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Nearly four years after her longtime partner’s death, Michelle Murphy still wakes in a panic, imagining that she forgot to help him breathe. At 61, Jeffrey Senne was diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), also called Lou Gehrig’s disease. Murphy had become his main financial support and caregiver in their woodsy Northern California home. She ended up devoting 11 years to looking after him. As the disease progressed, Senne, who Murphy says once looked like Harrison Ford, grew bald and frail, lost control of his bowels and could no longer speak or swallow. To prevent him from suffocating, she would have to wake up at least every two hours to suction the saliva pooling in his mouth. “I was terrified that he’d die on my watch,” she says. (Ellison, 9/27)

The global death toll from COVID-19 is approaching 1 million people, and in the last week the number of dead in the United States alone passed 200,000. Out of every 100 people who have been killed here by the disease in the United States, around 70 are aged 65 or over. These staggering statistics mean that families are now missing tens of thousands of grandparents who were alive six months ago. More than 80% of Americans 65 and older have one or more grandchild, Pew Research shows here, and two-thirds of those have more than four. (Brice, Young, Caspani and Hay, 9/27)

The only constant now is loss. More than 200,000 people are dead from COVID-19. We’ve all lost time, routines, jobs, connections to others. But the grief has not been evenly distributed. Grief in this country has always had an equity problem, and 2020 has only amplified the issue, as Black deaths have come in back-to-back blows, from the coronavirus, police brutality, and the natural deaths of those we look up to most. Each new death, each new example of an old injustice, renews our grief, sending little shock waves of sorrow. We are in the middle of a Black bereavement crisis, and we do not have the privilege or time to grieve. (Evans, 9/27)

By the time the pandemic fully swept over New York City this spring, Electric's employees were already in mourning. On March 18, days after the tech startup closed its downtown Manhattan offices and asked its 145 workers to start doing their jobs from home, one of their number died suddenly and tragically—not from the coronavirus that was swiftly becoming real to New Yorkers, but from an unexpected heart problem. James Stepney, a 32-year-old senior customer-support technician from the Bronx, with a kind smile and an easygoing warmth around the office, had wanted to get in one last workout before New York’s gyms closed. He collapsed at the gym and was rushed to the ICU, where he died a little over a day later. “He was an incredible person. It was a huge hit,” Jamie Coakley, Electric’s vice president of people, says months after his death. Then her voice catches: “I’m going to get emotional here.” (Aspan, 9/27)

As the United States crosses 200,000 deaths from COVID-19, grief has become the biggest risk facing U.S. employers. Most have absolutely no idea how to handle it—or how to avoid the billions of dollars it costs in lost productivity. “We always think grief is all about time off—and of course it’s about time off, and we don’t give enough time off,” says grief expert David Kessler of Grief.com. “But it’s also about how you handle it.” (Aspan, 9/27)

A nationwide increase in depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts and attempts followed the spread in the virus in the United States. The dilemma of securing and promoting resources for mental health had already been a priority for officials in Montana, which led the nation for years in suicide rates. While the number of suicides in the state has not increased substantially during the past nine months, outreach to its crisis services has spiked. (Hamby, 9/27)

Some Californians may have an easier time accessing treatment for mental health conditions like anxiety, PTSD and addiction under a bill Gov. Gavin Newsom signed into law Friday. The measure, Senate Bill 855, requires insurance companies to cover all mental health and addiction treatment deemed “medically necessary” by a doctor. (Bollag, 9/25)

The pandemic, which has disrupted so much of our lives, has shaken up health benefits, too — and sometimes for the better. Over 150 million Americans, including nearly half the population of Texas, get health coverage through an employer. And next month, many workers will select their health benefits during open enrollment. They’re likely to see a big increase in coverage for virtual care, most commonly used for smartphone visits with doctors and other providers. While virtual care has been available for years, the approach took off after the pandemic forced many practices to lock down in the spring. (Schnurman, 9/27)