Alan, it bears emphasising, did not die from COVID-19; he did not fall victim to the deadly virus that has claimed the lives of millions around the globe and upended ordinary life as we know it, revealing so much of what we once took for granted.

But he was, like his family and so many thousands before him and so many still to come, a COVID-19 casualty.

Absent in Alan's final moments was his second daughter, who - after testing positive to the virus a week prior - was not permitted entry into the nursing home to say her last goodbyes.

"I keep thinking over and over, if only I could have held a phone up to dad's ear, maybe she could have come to the window and talked to him that way," Jenny said, almost concealing the tremble in her voice.

"But it didn't happen that way; you only ever think of these things in hindsight, you really do."

For so many people, the impossibility of final goodbyes with loved ones ranks among the most unforgiving of indignities COVID-19 has forced upon them.

But equally if not crueller is the way in which nursing homes - in a nod to the sheer transmissibility of the deadly virus - have been compelled to strike an uneasy balance between protecting their residents from infection and residents' visiting rights.

"One of the things I'm finding is residents get distressed and families get distressed because they can't have any sort of visit during lockdowns," said Fr Graham Reynolds, who looks after the Skipton and Beaufort Anglican parishes.

"Now at least there are exceptions, such as end of life, but when these places are in lockdown, families just aren't allowed to visit."

The consequence for aged care residents, said Fr Reynolds, was loneliness distended; bearable for some, but overwhelming for others.

Some 18 months before he died - just prior to the state's deadly second wave - Alan lost his wife, Joyce, who'd succumbed to complications after suffering a serious stroke.

But a confluence of Alan's advancing dementia and an extended lockdown meant he never fully grasped why his wife - his rock - was no longer in his life.

"We buried mum, and then the state went into lockdown completely," Jenny said. "It was nine weeks before we could go and visit dad."

"Dad is blind, was blind, and with dementia and very, very hard of hearing, so he couldn't understand and I couldn't go in and sit with him to tell him mum was gone.

"That made it terribly difficult and distressing for him. I just felt so absolutely helpless that I couldn't do what I needed to do to help him cope."

It's unclear whether the isolation of nursing home lockdowns is worse for residents, like Alan, who live with dementia; who are unable to comprehend the logic behind those extended periods in which no one visits them.

Or, conversely, whether it is worse for those residents who fully understand the threat posed to them by COVID-19, but in so doing also wake up every morning understanding the absence of any clear end to the pandemic, or their loneliness.

It might be a moot point; either way, the fact of the pandemic's unrelenting existence has led to growing calls for a different approach to residents' visiting rights.

Last month, several aged care providers and industry bodies, led by the Council of the Ageing (COTA) Australia, endorsed a revised visiting code, which, in short, provided that residents ought to be permitted one "essential visitor" at all times, regardless of COVID outbreak status.

The policy, by design, was intended to avoid a return to the early days of the pandemic where aged care residents could be confined to their rooms for weeks or months on end, with no visitors.

But the unprecedented spread of Omicron infections within the community, coupled with the slow booster rollout in aged care, staffing shortages and low supply of rapid antigen tests, has - in the view of some - made the code's ready adoption difficult, if not impossible.

"The reality on the ground with all the challenges that aged care services have had is that it's been very difficult to facilitate that level of access for families," said Paul Sadler, chief executive of Aged and Community Services Australia.

"So, while we believe it's important for older people to have access [to visitors] where they can, we need to do it safely."

In Fr Reynolds view, however, the challenges occasioned by Omicron should not stand in the way of a change in approach; one that affords residents dignity and returns meaning to their lives.

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"There needs to be a better balance," he said. "For so many elderly people, Facetime on the phone is next to impossible; they're just not able to cope with it."

"In the end, what's the difference between a fully vaccinated visitor dressed in PPE who's taken a rapid antigen test and a staff member who's taken the same precautions?."

"COVID has created very harsh boundaries which don't take into account the emotional, mental wellbeing of older people enough; we've got to learn to weigh the risks, because the prolonged isolation can be as cruel as the disease."

It's a sentiment shared by Jenny, who said her painful memories of walking by residents' rooms, catching glimpses of desperately lonely residents one after the other after the other had left a lasting impression of a need for change.

"I never knew whether they didn't have anyone because of the lockdown or because they didn't have family; it was just so very sad," she said.

"There just has to be a better way in aged care; I don't know what it is, but I know there just has to be a better way."

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