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My father died on the evening after Shiva Asar b’Tammuz, the start of the traditional three-week period of collective mourning until Tisha b’Av. In a normal year, that should have made my immersion into mourning (aveilut) a little bit easier because everyone would be sharing some of the restrictions of mourning with me for at least a brief period of time. But, 2020 was not a normal year. It was a year like no other, one that will be highlighted in bold font in history books of the future. This was the year of COVID-19