COVID-19 killed more than 4,600 Houston area residents in 2020 — and left a hole in the lives of many more
When Tony Searcy’s brother died of COVID-19 in September, it felt like he had lost his left hand.
Tommy and Tony referred to themselves as mirror twins, identical in almost all aspects except that Tommy was left-handed and Tony was a righty.
They had spent 45 years doing almost everything together, from switching classes in high school to see if teachers could tell to becoming firemen at the age of 18. Their first children were born only months apart, and they both rose to the rank of captain in the Houston Fire Department.
One of the only major life events that they spent apart was Tommy’s hospitalization, his month-long battle with COVID-19, and his final moments.
“That’s the side people don’t see — when people get sick, you assume you can be around them, take care of them,” Tony said. “That’s a lonely feeling, for him I’m sure. For us, we wanted to be with him, we wanted to support him.”
Capt. Tommy Searcy was just one of the 4,647 people in the Houston region and the 27,952 people across Texas who died of the new coronavirus in 2020.
As death tolls flashed across television screens almost daily, it became easy to forget that each represented a life, a person who was loved and left behind a family and friends. But for those who were left behind, the numbers serve as an ever-present reminder of the hole now left in their hearts.
Some of their names are better-known than others. Nationally, famed singer songwriter John Prine, 2012 presidential candidate Herman Cain, Broadway actor Nick Cordero and former Temptations lead singer Bruce Williamson were among those who died. And, days before New Year’s Eve, actress Dawn Wells — known for her portrayal of the lovable Mary Ann on the iconic TV show “Gilligan’s Island” — died due to COVID-19 complications.
‘Like a bad dream’
In Houston, those who died of COVID-19 came from all walks of life. Ernest Leal Jr., a 36-year veteran of the Houston Police Department, died in November at age 60.
Dr. Adeline Fagan, 28, was completing her second year of residency as an OB-GYN until she contracted the virus and died of it in September. After 3,800 people donated to a GoFundMe fundraiser launched during her fight to stay alive, the family said it planned to use the proceeds to support medical students with scholarships, medical missions for under-served populations and ECMO treatments for critically ill patients — “something that would make Adeline proud.”
Popular Milby High School chemistry teacher Erick Ortiz, who was 52, died on Dec. 6. After setting up a GoFundMe page to help cover his funeral expenses, his sister-in-law Laura Heredia said she was struck by the number of messages she began receiving from his current and former students.
“There was a year he taught at an alternative school, and even one of those students put up a comment and said Mr. Ortiz was the type of teacher who was so giving. Out of his own pocket, he bought chess sets for every student in his classroom,” Heredia said. “Those things impact lives as a teacher.”
The region’s Black and Latino populations have been hit particularly hard by COVID-19. In July, the virus claimed the life of the Rev. Vickey Gibbs, 57, a prominent Houston preacher and activist for marginalized Christians. Shortly before her death, she delivered a rebuttal against white supremacy during a vigil for George Floyd, the Black man who was killed by Minneapolis police officers last spring. Hundreds of people posted remembrances on a Facebook page dedicated to her memory.
The disease has had a devastating impact on individual families, such as when it claimed the lives of Alfonso Rodríguez, 86, of Fort Bend County; his wife, Porfiria, 87; and their son, Rudy, 55, in less than weeks.
“I just kept thinking it was all like a bad dream,” said Alfonso Rodríguez, Jr., 66, in a July interview. “A nightmare.”
While victims have tended to be older, younger people have not been spared. In October, Kevin Swearingen of Lumberton lost his teenage daughter Charlee, who was wheelchair-bound and nonverbal due to a preexisting condition.
“I will always love and cherish her for as long as I’m here,” Swearingen posted on Facebook after Charlee died in a Houston hospital.
Grief interrupted
People whose lives were affected by the loss of someone who died of COVID-19 also had their grief interrupted.
David Kessler, a grief specialist and founder of grief.com, said the difficulties start with the last goodbyes, which now often have to take place over video calls rather than by the dying person’s bedside. The idea of being able to say goodbye can affect people years later, he said.
“At the end of life, really the only thing we have for one another is our presence,” Kessler said. “And that’s been taken away.”
In Houston, Cristina Chipriano, Spanish program and outreach director at the nonprofit Bo’s Place bereavement center, said others are struggling to understand that their loved ones are actually gone because of the distancing.
“One big thing we’ve seen is people saying ‘It doesn’t feel real because I wasn’t able to see them, I wasn’t there. There was a screen, but they weren’t alert,” Chipriano said. “And the guilt of having their loved one dying alone.”
Apart from the actual death, normal mourning rituals have also been upended. Funerals have been limited, especially at the beginning of the pandemic. Even gatherings outside of those formal settings are difficult now, Kessler said, and so many people are struggling to get by that they may not be able to drop off a casserole or offer financial assistance.
For Tony Searcy, the outpouring of support after his twin brother died was among the only sources of comfort that he and his family could find. But he and his family would be devastated again soon after — his father died of cardiac arrest months later.
Even with the pain, Tony still gets up every day and finds ways to make it through. Much of his strength comes from lessons that his father taught him, Tommy and their older brother: believing in God and family, and taking care of others. The last lesson has felt especially poignant this year as legions of friends and family offered support.
“You feel like you’re on an island when something like this happens,” Tony said. “But still, people go out and take care of you. I don’t think we could have made it through this without all the people who reached out to us and helped us.”
