Just days after her son was put on a ventilator at a Twin Cities hospital while battling COVID-19, Valerie Laidlaw tapped out a letter to him on her cellphone.
Her 43-year-old firstborn, Kyle Roos of Little Canada, was fighting for his life. More than 200 miles away at her home in Moorhead, Laidlaw felt geographically disconnected but also frustrated because she couldn't visit her son in the midst of the pandemic.
So that's how it started: "Dear Kyle," she wrote.
Laidlaw recalled in that inaugural letter that she posted on her blog the determined wail her son let out when he was born, his bountiful swirl of curls, his determination to scale countertops and the family's Christmas tree, and his command of the alphabet, songs and books at a young age.
"You were a strong, determined little guy," she wrote.
All told, over the next month, Laidlaw penned 28 letters to her son — a single dispatch a day. Often, she'd sign off: "You've got this Kyle! Love, Mom."
The COVID-19 pandemic has upended all rituals around illness, death and dying, including those involving how we communicate with one another during difficult times, said Frank Bennett, senior teaching fellow at the Earl E. Bakken Center for Spirituality & Healing at the University of Minnesota.
"Everyone is basically on their own ice floe," he said. "You can sort of wave to each other, but you can't have that [physical] connection. Having a ritual to re-establish that connection is really important, even if it's not physical."