When he died on April 28, his death was just a speck during a giant storm of numbers defining the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic. To the planet , he was just another number added to the tally recited daily by governments and news organizations.

To his family, he was the teenager who struck out for the us from the Dominican Republic to form their lives better. He worked at a grocery , at a barber shop, and as a handyman. He used the cash he earned to rebuild his mother’s home, and his children visited visit her nearly every summer.

As the us exposes , Jose’s family agreed to be photographed and interviewed because they thought their gut-wrenching reality might help save lives.

“I desire some people are failing to know that this is often serious,” said his daughter, Jessica Holguin, 25. “This is real. It’s literally killing people. It’s killing our communities, our loved ones, our friends, our relations , moms, dads, brothers, sisters.”

“Don’t take your life without any consideration . Wear your masks,” said Jessica. “Take precautions.”

It’s a wierd thing to let a journalist document your grief. It means as you crumple on the ground next to your dad’s casket and pray, someone’s snapping an image . It means when your dad dies, you tell a stranger about what he left unfinished.

Jessica said she felt a requirement to talk out. Jose’s other daughter agreed to pictures but wasn’t able to mention how she felt.

The us is predicted to pass a toll of 100,000 deaths from the coronavirus in coming days. a few third of these are in ny state. Its biggest city – ny City – has broken its data down by race and ethnicity.

As a Latino, Jose was 40 percent more likely to catch COVID-19 as his white countrymen, that data shows. He was quite twice as likely to die. The infection and death rates are similarly grim for African-Americans.

City officials say that’s because these groups hold more of the low-paid, essential jobs that can’t be done remotely, are more likely to measure in crowded apartments, and are more likely to possess underlying health conditions due to existing healthcare inequalities.


Just before dawn on Easter, Jose wasn’t feeling well. He had cancer so his partner of a decade and a half rushed him to the hospital.

He tested positive for the coronavirus, then his heart stopped – twice. a minimum of one among those times he was without oxygen to the brain for quarter-hour . As hospital staff fought to revive him, his ribs broke. He was intubated and placed on life support.

When it became clear he was unlikely to survive, ny Presbyterian said three relations could have five minutes each to mention goodbye. The hospital gave them yellow suits with gloves, hairnets, masks and face shields.

“It was a touch bit longer than five minutes because they understood. We just broke down crying,” said Jessica. “I just remember my mask being filled with tears.”

Jose had wanted to be buried where he was born but the family didn’t have the cash to ship his body back to the Dominican Republic . His partner didn’t speak English so all of the arrangements ran through his daughters.

As sick as he was, Jessica never actually expected Jose to die.

He was loud and happy. He liked music. Sometimes he would drink beer and dance bachata. His family would joke that his belly was so big that when it entered an area , it might take another ten minutes for the remainder of his body to follow.

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It was weird that his viewing was so silent, said Jessica. it had been weird that her dead dad said absolutely nothing.

It took a short time for her and her sister to screw up the courage to seem at him within the casket. They started at the rear of the chapel and slowly inched their way forward. It took an hour of the two-hour viewing for them to form it to the front row of chairs, then finally forward.