Some people who have broken up once in their lives know what it means “to let go”. Especially if you are on the receiving end of a break-up; the “letting go” becomes ever more challenging. How each person navigates and lets go depends on a myriad of variables. But what if letting go was simply trying to banish a persistent memory that just refuses to subside?
I do not have a lot of friends; some say it is because I am an introvert; some simply say I am downright anti-social. I have a slightly different view; I care deeply for those who are willing to put in the same effort that I do. So I treasure the few that I have more then those that I could potentially befriend. Acceptance is also a very important aspect; that my friends care for me because of who I am just as I do in accepting them for being who they are.
Since moving to Geneva, the one thing I have been able to do is to break the vice that seems to prevent me from going out of my way to meet my fellow Solomon Islanders. I have been more proactive and made many life long friends with those who have been able to visit this beautiful country. Simon Fuo’o was one such person, a promising young diplomat who had been instrumental in setting up the Solomon Islands mission to the UN and Switzerland.
Simon was murdered in 2012, the victim of a callous act of violence in Honiara, Solomon Islands. Simon had often spoken about fate; his near-death experience in Australia but I would imagine on that fateful morning when he stepped out of his car to face the thugs, he would have never imagined it would have been his last. He spoke of being “inomae”, the child who gave up so much for the women who singlehandedly raised him up. I cannot imagine the pain those closest to him have had to endure. For me the difficulty lies in how we have often parted; that there was always a conscious acknowledgement that we would see each other again. But the day we said goodbye as I took my family home for holidays in December 2011 was the last time we saw and spoke in person. Fate would not allow us to meet again, we only managed to speak on the phone with him always starting each sentence with “brada…” or “bro blo me…”!
So to this day, I still struggle with accepting his demise! There are days whenever I am at home or retrace our steps in Geneva, I genuinely believe Simon is still here. We barbecued by the lake, we climbed up the Swiss alps, spent evenings on my balcony, ate whatever we could cook at the dinner table and drove along Lac Leman on too many lazy Sunday afternoons. By day, Simon was the consummate professional – well dressed, dedicated to his duties and quietly navigating the daily demands of his job. Outside of it, he was my dearest friend; a person with whom I would spend hours talking about home and sharing our life experiences.
My greatest fear of letting go is simply that I will forget! But life goes on and we move on! Rest in peace my friend. Today, I accept that you are gone but the memories, I will not let go.