Sleeplessly she tossed through the night. Just as she thought she finally slept, she heard his voice as clear as if he was next to her saying, “Let Me Go”. Immediately she awoke, shaking it off as you would, the most fearful thing imagined (for me, snakes). Fear, uneasiness, a thumping heart, with foreboding questions kept her tired brain from doing anything more than just sit, and sit, and sit…. The phone call came about three hours later. “Can you come to the hospital. There’s nothing more we can do for your husband. He is projected to go at any time now. I’m sorry, there can only be two family members allowed”.

I was away in college when I got the news of my beloved mother’s passing ages ago. That was painful. This though was a whole different kind of pain.  Gut wrenching. Piercing. So so sorrowful. As people of faith, we talked about death, with each other, with our children. It’s the completion of our life cycle here on earth, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the heavens. A time to be born, and a time to die”. This however, was not the ending I contemplated of our beautiful life together. For everything that we went through in our life together, especially with his health, I was with him. We were inseparable. We were that pair that stood by for each other in all things. As anyone can imagine,  the tremendous pain I felt was unbearable. There was the pain of my children, whom I gave them the decision to decide on who to go in with me. There was the pain of our entire family, who kept vigil in hope and prayers. Due to covid restrictions, none of us could see him for the two weeks he was admitted, until they could not do anything for him. Oh the pain!!

Fono had the will. He was always iron clad in what he believed and loved. I know that he fought hard to win his battle. I imagine though the loneliness and fear without love, compassion, touch that every human needs as encouragement had a toll on his efforts. His letting me know, “let me go”, is that inseparable bond we had. He knew my pain, to say he’s okay to go, was the strength and calmness that gave me to get through that moment I finally saw him, to the rest that followed. When I finally saw him, I clearly realized with every fiber in my being how much I did want to see him rest. The only thing I could do was to whisper love and encouragement, that he did such a good job, and to hold him as I let him go.  The pain of feeling cheated of my husband’s last days will forever be my cross to bear. This is my Covid nightmare.

Fono and I had a beautiful journey together. No, not perfect as were such imperfect people. We were like in a revolving school, continuously learning from each other. We weren't a pea in a pod. Nope, we had quite a few differences in our viewpoints and lifestyles. My playlist can be pop favorites of the 70's and 80's. His could be strings of favorite samoan artists. However, we would totally jam together to Stevie Wonder's "I just called to say, I love you", and harmonize to "Leafaitulagi". We compromised well! The key  though to our bond was our equal love for God, and because of that, we stormed through life weathering every tempest and experiences of bliss sailing. The way his story ended is hard for me to accept so I share him, this remarkable human being, who saw himself only as a ‘servant of servant’.

I know that I am not the only one who have experienced loss, especially in the worst epidemic lived. Our lives take so many unexpected turns. Despite the pains, we get through it. We do. We must. We live on. However, our life remains significant. It can be a beacon of hope for someone else. Our stories must be told, lest forgotten. There's space here for yours. Let it be a light for someone else.