Geen’s Gone

 Before I check social media these lockdown days, my heart seesaws between anticipation and apprehension.  

I look forward to hearing from friends and family—about the exciting things they are into. And yet, I dread the bad news, which has been overwhelming: deaths, illnesses, financial woes, and mental anguish. 

Many of my dear ones document their struggles on their pages, asking for prayers, and suddenly, one day, you see a black empty frame or a lit candle on common friends’ pages. Collectively we mourn and lift each other up with words of comfort.  

But one friend, Geen, left without warning. She had always been a very private person and spurned social media. I like to think, however, that she was open with me—as I with her—when  we became co-teachers and friends in a university. 

Geen had awe-inspiring credentials earned from the business sector, where she had been a commanding force in a multi-national company. She brought her expertise and sharp mind to the university; these she shared with her students and me, in the faculty lounge, selflessly. No wonder she was loved by her students and had a fan in me.

Among other things, she taught me how to do systematic records so that nothing is left to chance. She would simplify strategies in plain diagrams, and interconnect even disparate syllabi. 

I knew we’d meet again, but she took off even before we could see the finish line of this crisis. 

Geen’s gone, but the things she left me are legacies of grace that will last till I, too, would be . . . well, gone.  

"Everyone who lives in me and believes in me will never ever die." (John 11:26 NLT)