If I had only known how very painful this season of my life would be, I would have begged God to spare me, just as Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane. Three weeks ago, one of my close friends suddenly passed away. When her mother called early one morning, I thought to myself, ¨what a pleasant surprise -- she surely has a special event in mind for when we get out of lockdown.¨ Alas, it didn't take long to relay the news and I will never forget the feeling of utter despair and immense shock that immediately flooded every part of me. The days that followed were a blur of calls and text messages, accompanied by a myriad of questions. During the first week, I found myself suddenly waking up in the middle of the night, only to realize I had been crying in my sleep, and I began to wonder if things would ever be normal again.
¨Blessed are those who mourn,
For they shall be comforted.¨ Matthew 5:4
Losing a loved one is never easy, but the isolation of the corona pandemic made it all the worse for me. I\d already been spending way too much time by myself, and now I was alone with all my thoughts and questions. I quickly discovered that not all well-meaning friends and acquaintances make good listeners and I spent more energy assuaging others' fears than actually managing my own grief. I eventually learned to turn off my phone and kept in touch with a select few who patiently allowed me to express my sorrow openly, without feeling the need to respond with platitudes.
About a year ago, another close friend passed away from diabetic complications after four months in the hospital. I had hoped beyond all hope and prayed fervently that she would recover and I was devastated when several days after being released from the ICU, she died. I spent the next couple of months depressed and angry at God -- here was someone who spread joy and laughter and had the best sense of humor, and whose presence would be very much missed here on earth. It didn't make any sense to me at all. I finally came around when I realized that I could rely on God's character, even if I didn't understand His ways. I still don't have any answers, but because the Lord has shown up time and time for me, I know I can still trust Him, even in the midst of the fiercest storm.
The good news is that the lesson that I learned last year has remained with me up until the present time, because although I don't think I have ever cried this much in my (adult) life as I have in the past three weeks, I know I can still completely trust God's character and that He knows what He is doing.
My last phone call with Niina was the week before her death. Due to the pandemic, we'd already been talking on the phone more often than normal and on this particular day, we'd first exchanged several voice messages (a habit we started a long time ago, possibly due to both my busy schedule and general reluctance to write in less-than-perfect Swedish). We'd been talking about opening one's heart, and what it means to learn to love and somewhere in our voice messages as a side note, I mentioned how God doesn't see our past mistakes, because when we decide to allow Jesus into our lives, He forgives us completely. Niina called immediately and thanked me for the words I'd said -- they clearly meant a lot to her. We proceeded to talk about our life dreams -- articulating them seemed foreign to me, but not for Niina, who loved planning and always saw the positive in everything. It certainly did not occur to me then that this would be our last phone conversation, but I think God knew and orchestrated it perfectly.
Two days before her death, Niina and another choir friend went to the cherry blossom park near Niina's home. The weather was warm and we brought snacks, a blanket and a bottle of light sparkling wine. We took plenty of pictures. When evening came and we parted ways, despite the pandemic, Niina and I hugged. I never knew it would be our last, but I am glad this was our final memory together here on earth.
I've heard that dealing with grief comes in layers, and I am experiencing that right now. I've already caught myself numerous times thinking that I would call Niina to ask her opinion on something. A couple of days ago, a friend sent a mystery sound clip to a group I was part of, and I immediately recognized my own choir -- and Nina's strong alto coming through.
Despite the pandemic, Niina's family very graciously invited me to the funeral. I think it hit me then that we wouldn't be sharing any more choir rehearsals, trips to the park, bus rides across Finland, dinner parties or late-night telephone calls here on earth. We sang one of Niina's favourite songs that so aptly captures her relationship with her heavenly father:
¨I love Your voice
You have led me through the fire.
In darkest night, You are close like no other.
I've known You as a father
I've known You as a friend.
And I have lived in the goodness of God.¨
I knew in my heart when the corona lockdown began, that I would not come out the same. I knew already then that God wanted our attention, our hearts and even our tears. I didn't know that this fire would hurt this much, but I have also seen very clearly that if we allow God to love us, He holds us in His almighty arms -- and that not even sickness, loneliness, natural disasters, political unrest nor death can separate us from His great love.
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