These photos depict my family's grief as they experience the loss of Betty Russell, my grandmother. A selection of these photos published in The Washington Post. 

​Alice Carter, center, cries, as she is surrounded by Cyndia Miller, left, Bobbi Kuhn and Lori Daum, right, in Dunnellon, Fla., on Jan. 10, 2021. Carter cried as she was talking to her mother, Betty Russell, on the phone who kept on asking when she was coming home from the hospital because all she thought she had was sinus infection. Betty, my grandmother, would never come home. She was back in the hospital for the second time with coronavirus during her annual winter trip to Florida to stay with my father, Willie. Cyndia, my aunt, flew in from Fairbanks, Alaska while Lori and Alice, my aunts, and Bobbi, my grandmother's daughter of the heart, drove down from Buncombe, Ill and Goreville, Ill. "I felt lost and heartbroken, because she did not know she was dying," Alice said. "It was really hard telling her she wasn't coming home."

Betty resided the majority of the year in Buncombe, Ill, a small rural town in Johnson County in Southern Illinois. These are framed photographs of Betty and her husband, Charlie Russell, throughout the years on Jan. 22, 2021. They met Betty’s senior year of high school and married the summer she graduated from high school. Betty was so in love with Charlie that she wanted to drop out of school to marry him. He told her no and that he wouldn’t marry her until she graduated from high school. Charlie was forced to drop out of school to help his father on the farm, so education was very important to him. Charlie passed away in 2018 from leukemia. ​​

Lori Daum, center, holds the phone as Willie Russell, left, Bobbi Kuhn, Dawn Russell, my stepmother, Alice Carter and Cyndia Miller talk to Betty Russell over FaceTime outside of the West Marion Hospital in Ocala, Fla., on Jan. 10, 2021. Betty was in high spirits when speaking to her children. None of her children were allowed in the hospital to visit Betty that day. The following day, the doctor on staff allowed one person to visit my grandmother. They collectively agreed on sending Cyndia. "As the oldest sibling there, I felt like I needed to do it, but I wasn't going to ask for it," Cyndia said. "They were so selfless in letting me do it. I will always be thankful to my siblings for this." ​

Lori Daum speaks to her mother, Betty Russell, over FaceTime outside of the West Marion Hospital in Ocala, Fla., on Jan. 10, 2021. My grandmother Betty was in the hospital for the second time with coronavirus. "When I walked away from the hospital the last time we FaceTimed her, I was looking up and I didn't want to leave her there," Lori said. "I knew that was going to be the last time I saw her."

Willie Russell, my father, breaks down after telling his brothers that Betty would likely pass away in the next few days from coronavirus. Betty was admitted to Hospice care that evening but never left the hospital. They gave her morphine and slowly reduced her oxygen. She passed away shortly after that. "I felt guilty because it (her death) happened on my watch," Willie said. "I was supposed to be taking care of her and making sure nothing happens to her and she up and died on me."

Willie Russell hugs his wife, Dawn Russell, while he and his siblings wait for updates from the hospital in Dunnellon, Fla., on Jan 10, 2020. It was Betty’s wish to not be put on a ventilator and to not be resuscitated. "I lost my mom," Willie said later on about her death. "I lost my best friend. I could talk to her about anything."

Betty Russell passed away from coronavirus at 2 a.m. on Jan 12, 2020. "I told her I'd see her soon and goodbye for my brothers who weren't there," Willie Russell said as he gives his mother one last kiss before she is cremated at Baldauff Family Funeral Home in Orange City, Fla., on Jan. 13, 2021. The loss of his last living parent hit my father hard. He always considered himself closer to his mother. I've never seen him cry as much as I did over the loss of her. My father not only resembled his mother but also took on many of her character traits such as having a calm temperament, never taking sides in family arguments and his uncanny ability to forgive everyone.

​Willie Russell is hugged by his sisters and wife as they say their goodbyes to their mother, Betty Russell, outside of Baldauff Family Funeral Home in Orange City, Fla., on Jan. 13, 2021. Her ashes would later be shipped through the mail back home to Buncombe, Ill for her funeral and burial. ​

​My grandparents, Betty Russell and Charlie Russell, lived in this house my grandfather built with his own hands since 1991. Now that they both have passed, it belongs to their daughter, Lori Daum, who lived with them and took care of both of them as they grew old in age. Part of the house will likely be torn down as the interior of the house is falling apart. My grandparents lived in poverty but as my grandmother always said, they were rich in love. This was taken the day I left Buncombe, Ill on Jan. 24, 2021.

Lori Daum stands in the entryway into the living room of the home she shared with Betty and the late Charlie Russell in Buncombe, Ill., on Jan. 22, 2021. Willie Russell, left, looks at old photographs and Jon DiMeo, my husband, and Alice Carter sit in chairs across from the couch. My grandfather, Charlie Russell built that home with his own hands in 1991. The house is in disrepair with cracked walls and mold growing in one of the bathrooms. "When we first got back from Florida, it (the house) felt so empty," Lori said. "We'd have our first cup of coffee together in the morning. We'd watch the news together. When I first came in and saw that chair, I thought can I do this?" 

Willie Russell takes down a photograph of myself, my brother, T.J. Russell, and sister, Victoria Russell, in the house my grandparents shared together in Buncombe, Ill on Jan. 22, 2021. My grandparents were religious and my grandmother always believed God was going to take care of you and he wouldn't give you anything you couldn't handle. The framed newspaper clipping is of the public sale of the farm my grandfather was raised on. My grandfather did want to become a farmer so his mother, Della Russell. 

Cyndia Miller, Mike Carter, Alice Carter and Alice Winchester look at a slide show of photographs of Betty Russell throughout the years at her funeral at Bailey Funeral Home in Vienna, Ill. on Jan. 23, 2021. Alice Carter was in such emotional pain from the death of her mother that she almost didn't attend the funeral. The funeral had a walk through ceremony were friends of Betty could come and pay their respect, but the funeral service itself was private and only open to family and certain members of the Eastern Star organization. "I was shattered. I'm still shattered," Alice said about the death of her mother. "When you get the phone call and you didn't get to be with her, it's fucking horrible." 

​Betty Russell’s ashes sit at the front of the room during her funeral at Bailey Funeral Home in Vienna, Ill. on Jan. 23, 2021. The funeral ended with the playing of “You ain't woman enough to take my man,” by Loretta Lynn, one of her favorite musical artists.

Willie Russell, Alice Russell, Lori Daum and Cyndia Miller embrace one another as they say goodby to Betty Russell’s ashes at Bailey Funeral Home in Vienna, Ill. on Jan. 23, 2021. Betty's other two sons, Wendell Russell and Joey Russell, not photographed, also attended the funeral service.

Family gather around the Russell family plot to honor Betty Russell as she was buried next to her husband, Charlie Russell, and daughter, Victoria Russell, who passed away in the late 1980s in Buncombe, Ill. on Jan. 23, 2021. "How did a virus take her? She was so strong," Alice said. "She'd been through so much. She lost her husband, her daughter and a grandchild. She was robbed at gunpoint. She raised all of her own kids plus half of her siblings. I only hope that I'm half the person she was."

Willie Russell, my father, lays a rose on the wooden box containing Betty Russell’s ashes at Pleasant Grove Cemetery in Buncombe, Ill. on Jan. 23, 2021. "Your grandmother lived a full life, so I see it as a celebration," Willie said. "Life itself isn't promised to anyone. I'm happy for her because she gets to be with my dad."