#99

This is my ninety-ninth post. Numbers provide satisfaction in my life. The number 99 gives me the feeling of symmetry, something that Janne and I had in our lives. This number also gives me a sense of incompleteness, about almost making it, just like Janne’s life. This will be a much longer write-up about what I learned during the last three months, during more than a year of cancer, and during almost (just 16 days short of) 20 years of knowing each other.

I have learned that grief is personal. No one can tell you how you go through it, and how you will survive it. I have also learned that grief is everywhere. Too many people around me have experienced it in different ways. There is no “right” way to endure it. There is no way to just move on in spite of what people might tell you.

More than that, I have learned that grief cannot be cured. The old adage of “time heals everything” doesn’t apply to it. The reason is simple: grief is not a disease. Instead, grief is just the manifestation of loving someone who is not here anymore. If you loved, you grieve. If you loved as much as I loved Janne, grief is infinite. I would need several lives just to get used to it.

I am also clear that grief cannot be avoided. The harder I fight it, the more pain I will feel later. If it shows up unexpected, I invite it in for one, ten, sixty minutes and I just am with it. I offer my tears and my heartache until it is satisfied. Then it vanishes. I feel undoubtedly stronger after each visit.

Not everything is lost though, because I will still keep growing around my grief. In my life journey, I am in a place in my life where I am growing much faster than before. I know who I am. Ironically I found that out when trying to cope with Janne’s diagnosis. Because of that, I owe her and our boys the best effort I have ever done. You are witnessing it. I have seen the initial buds just starting to blossom in my life.

My grief for Janne is my fuel to continue.

I have learned more about Janne even though she is not here anymore. Janne was a fearful person. She was afraid of being alone, of being abandoned by people she loved, of losing what meant the most to her, of being forced to do what she didn’t want. Unfortunately, I witnessed several instances when all of those fears came true. Yet she grew out of those to start becoming a stronger person.

Cancer gave her the chance in the last year of her life to start becoming herself. For the first time in her life, she decided to be intentional in learning who she was. She revisited periods of her life which were hard for her. She thought about past experiences that she tried to forget, but that were at the back of her mind. As a therapy, she wrote about what that meant for her and how she should have coped with it. It takes great strength of mind and character to do that.

I found out that she was stronger with an incident that happened between us in April. As I have mentioned, Janne didn’t really like the violin even though she played for several years. She never played it for me. We had lots of jokes between us teasing each other. One of them was that as soon as I would see someone in TV playing the violin, I would say, “you see, she says that she can play the violin, but she actually plays”. I did this joke for almost 19 years. On this occasion, she just exploded and yelled, “I don’t like that joke!” I froze. How is it possible that she had never told me that?

Next day, we talked about it. I apologized and told her that I didn’t know what jokes I should not make anymore. That could potentially erase a lot of our interactions. She replied with a very cool head, “I’m sorry for my reaction. I just don’t like the joke. I just feel finally strong to tell you what I don’t like”. This was one of the best moments we had. I understood that she was breaking through her inner barriers. I could see the best version of herself. I’m sure that I was likely the only or one of very few people witnessing this.

Nevertheless, she kept a lot hidden deep down. Just a few days ago, a friend at work was telling me about a conversation she had with Janne at a work party. Apparently it was a good and a long one. This party was after I had been working in Norway for five months so a few people wanted to say hello. My friend even told me that she asked Janne how she took that I had a queue of people wanting to talk with me. She replied just by saying that she was used to it. Janne never told me any of this, but I’m glad this friend told me. It added a little piece to the puzzle of who Janne was.

I always intended to get to know her the best I could. I was not always successful though. Sometimes when she was quiet, I would just ask, “what are you thinking?” She had trouble telling me in many cases. Once she just replied, “I was thinking on what to tell you when you asked that question”. However, the longer we were together, the easier it was to answer that question for her. Eventually, she would just start telling me stories or what she had in mind without my prompts.

I particularly recall the last time we went to her home town of Pärnu. I went to visit a good friend of mine whom Janne didn’t know. She made an effort to come with me as her energy was dwindling down. I met my friend and her husband. Janne met the last new friends she made. When we were driving back, I took a different route. I wanted to remember the place where another close friend had proposed to his now wife, a meaningful moment for us too. We didn’t find it. But then, Janne just started telling me lots of stories of that area that I hadn’t heard of, about how she had felt then, and also about how she was afraid of being alone that one time when she was a child.

Janne was finally free even if her body was trying to hold her hostage.

I have learned at how much I grew in the 20 years since I met Janne. Although our beginnings were not typical, I saw something in her that drew me intensely. I couldn’t resist it. The best part is that I can see that we grew together throughout these years. We were taking steps in tandem to find ourselves while we were finding each other.

At this stage, my love for Janne should be evident to everyone. Knowing how Janne kept everything private, I expect that people in her private circles didn’t know much about our life together. Also, people probably didn’t know that Janne had such a rich inner life and strong drive that would manifest only on her most private moments. I need to tell the world about it, but mainly I need to write it down for Trevor and Daniel. They will know where they come from.

I have always felt creative. I just had to push it deep down for whatever reason. Janne was probably one of the few people who knew me well and encouraged me. She didn’t mind my intensity in trying things. Actually, she encouraged it. This is why you are seeing these words now.

I have also found a new tribe of like-minded people. I am also making new friends by the day. It’s funny how I used to think that I was shy, while in reality I can make friends anywhere.

I understand now that I’m not alone in this world. Even though I was very lonely my whole life until meeting Janne, my realization after she departed is that I have such a rich circle of friends far and close. Yesterday I was talking with one of my best friends on how my mind has been blocking me from seeing this. It is clear to me now. Every small message via any medium, short call, long conversation over a meal or a beer, I don’t take them for granted. I feel just lucky.

I have several plans of what I want to attempt in the future. These writings will become a book. I could even describe the level of the detail in my head down to font and colors I’d love to use. I want to help others and am coming up with some practical ideas. The high price we have paid with Janne’s life, I have to make it worthwhile.

Janne freed me.

I have learned that Trevor and Daniel will be Ok. My biggest worry was that I was not going to be able to continue raising our boys well. However, people have reached out to tell me their story. For this, I am eternally grateful.

They have the capacity of adapting and are doing it everyday. They have become more independent. School is going very well, much better than you would expect with their loss. They have their social circle with friends who care for them. Their teachers have been empathetic. My friends have helped. They will make it.

Sometimes, I can see a glimmer of sadness in their eyes, but I don’t let that go without talking about Janne. They bring her up themselves too. We talk about how Janne used to do things, about how she smiled, about how she joked and did things in the house.

I am discovering together with them what they are made of too. Trevor continues intensely attracted to his new hobby of astronomy. If only Estonia didn’t have so many cloudy nights, but perhaps that’s the reason he is attracted to it. He compensates by playing a game that simulates the universe and has a projector gifted by one of my closest friends to light the room with pictures of constellations. I can see myself in him.

A week ago, Daniel had the assignment to come up with a Christmas poem on his own for his Estonian lesson. I was thinking on how to help him as Estonian is a difficult subject for me, but I like poetry. He just told me not to worry. He sat in front of his iPad, opened a writing application, and started writing the poem from his head. He was done in less than a minute. He drew a minimalistic picture next to it. My eyes just teared up as I could see myself in him too.

I see Janne in them every day. This is the true meaning of immortality.

I have learned how much Janne’s loss has touched so many people. Everyone has to deal with their own private grief in their own way. I acknowledge that even though I’m the most affected, I am not the only one who has had a loss. If someone reaches out, I try not to make it about me, but about us together.

A few friends say when telling me about their problems that they feel guilty to share them with me as it can’t compare with what I’m going through. I try to put their mind at ease by saying that everyone has a mountain to climb in this life. Some have a small mountain like the 318-meter (1043 feet) Suur Munamägi in Estonia. In my case, I have the Everest. When you are at the bottom and look up, both mountains look the same. We just have to start climbing together.

Something that fills me with comfort is how many people around the world are with us. Friends from so many countries, continents, religions, climates, traditions have been with us in this journey. There is something very special about that.

Janne’s soul was too big for a small place. She needed the whole world to contain her.

Thanks for reading. I have still tens, hundreds of stories to keep telling about Janne. I will try to continue every day, but maybe one day I will take a break here and there. If you worry when you don’t see a daily post, just message me. You bring comfort into my life.

Janne, I miss you. However, you live through these stories, through me, your boys and your friends all over the world.

Love cha. 😘