Scheena Iyande Tannis cannot remember how many people she has seen die from coronavirus, but it is the manner of their departures that has stuck in her head.

When a patient begins to fade at Brookdale Hospital in New York’s Brooklyn district, alone in isolation, staff now arrange Facetime video calls for a final goodbye with loved ones.

At home after a 17-hour night shift, Ms Tannis , 40, replayed a conversation she had with a woman on a ward, unable to see her mother dying nearby, moments before the call.

“What do I say to her,” the daughter asked. Ms Tannis did not know what to advise. In the end the woman just repeated: “Mommy, I love you” over and over.

“Normally the families can be at the bedside and can have that moment of closure,” said Ms Tannis, who has been a critical care nurse for almost 20 years.

“The sad and the scary part is they can’t. They're not allowed to … I think that is what hurts us the most.”