'So long as the memory of certain beloved family and friends lives in my heart, I shall say that life is good.'
- Helen Keller
Sometimes people come into our lives and leave before we have the chance to let them know how much we truly appreciate them. Last week I lost one of my closest friends - a woman with the most beautiful soul who lit up any room she entered and made everyone feel loved and special with a mere smile. Though we knew one another for just under a year and a half, Linnea Romelsjo became my family in the UK, my support system during hard times, and she was one of the most incredbile people I have ever had the privilege of meeting.
Linnea was a gorgeous, intelligent, kind, hilarious, sweet, positive, talented person who taught me so much about living in the moment, being gracious, and looking for the best in people. She introduced me to Swedish gingerbread cookies, taught me to say 'I love you' and other important phrases in Swedish, and shared ridiculous experiences like hitchhiking to Nottingham and trespassing in Sherwood Forest (woops!). This was a woman who interned in Brussels, spoke several languages, built an igloo under the northern lights, and ran a marathon. She may have hated bell peppers and loved cheesy pop music, but those were miniscule flaws when considering the many achievements and merits she possessed.
We became fast friends after being introduced in September 2012, and soon we were spending plenty of time together, going on hours long walks, getting lost in both intellectual and trivial conversation, and dancing many a night away. Our two-woman tea parties were the highlight of many long laborious weeks where I felt exhausted from university and work, and she always managed to find a way to make me feel better when I was having a difficult time. She was a bright light in the dismal Birmingham winter, and her passion for people was constantly inspiring as she never forgot a face or a name and always had a kind word for everybody.
The last time I saw Linnea was in December 2013 the day after our Masters Graduation. She had returned to Birmingham from Sweden for the week, and though she had a cold she still made time to see her many friends. She admitted to feeling in a rut as she hadn't been able to find a job that utilised her studies in International Relations, but as we were all floating in post-degree limbo none of us thought much of it. In January, I had hoped to visit her for a weekend, and again she said she was having a tough time and wasn't up for it so I respected her wishes and dropped the subject.
I could never have imagined I would no longer have the chance to see her, hear her infectious laughter, or be squeezed into one of her warm, heartfelt embraces. (She gave the best hugs!) To think that the world is no longer blessed with her presence makes it feel a large, cold, and empty place (though that feeling could also be partially due to the frigid Canadian winter and the fact that I can't seem to find enough layers to take the edge off), and I wish that I could have had one more chance to tell her how wonderful she is.
'Smart and beautiful,' she used to taunt me in the words of my creepy former boss, but that phrase is one that absolutely applies to who she was. Beautiful from the very core.
I love you, Linnea. You touched so many lives, and I will miss you forever.
