The year 2020 was supposed to be epic, instead our supposedly short trip in March to the States was met with a pandemic lockdown that lasted two years of us being homeless in Indiana. This pandemic was a roller coaster of emotions for the world. Disease. Fear. Unemployment. Doom. Prejudice. Cancelled culture. Isolation. Millions of jobs lost. Community breakdown. Uncertainty. Death toll daily climb. Protests. Riots. The Unknown. How could someone like me from the islands in the middle of nowhere, possibly survive in a massive city during the pandemic? I could barely snag a roll of toilet paper at Costco. I felt the whole world on pause. Everything was closed and we spent the whole two years of lockdown staring at a screen and stranded in a strange territory. Had time stopped? 

The worst present I got for Christmas in 2019 was a 2020 planner from my sister, Quenjule. In fact 2020 was the worst year ever. Yup! That’s what I named it in my planner, all in caps, WORST YEAR EVER. To be specific one of the exact days was 11 November 2020 and I will never forget it. 

The day began bleak as ever. I inhaled anxiously as I joined the long line of mourners waiting quietly to enter a funeral home in the heart of Fort Wayne, Indiana on a cold, November morning. Death is never easy to talk about. It’s not that I hadn’t been to a funeral before, I have been to a few. But I have never been to one like this. It was so senseless, so unexpected, so cruel, so sad and so wrong.

I looked up and I could see big bouquets of white carnations, my legs suddenly felt weak. As I steadied myself for what I was about to see, my hands trembled as I tightly grasped a pink, warm, stuffed bunny rabbit. The coffin was white. Inside lay a beautiful mother of four, wearing a peach, satin dress. She was the same age as my mother. However her laughter, love, energy, hopes and dreams for her kids had been stolen by the villainous and grief-stricken virus, Covid-19. Countless lost to this disease. Covid-19 was no stranger to the news or to my life. This was the new norm.

I walked past the coffin to see her brittle, pale fingers folded. Her eyes closed peacefully as if she was in a deep sleep. With tears in my eyes, I clung to the bunny and kept moving past the coffin. The bunny was for her oldest girl, who was in my class. As I approached her, she looked at me, tears streaming down her beautiful face with a mixture of confusion and sorrow that pierced my already crumbled, broken heart. I gave her a hug and quietly handed my friend the bunny. Sluggishly, with my head down, I was crying do hard that I could barely see two steps in front of me as I struggled to find my seat.

After the service, I walked outside feeling once again defeated by sorrow and Covid. One of the hardest experiences during the pandemic was watching people I love grieve and suffer loss. I felt my knees buckle as I stumbled forward before catching myself from falling face down. Just then, I heard a voice in my head say, “Look up.” There it was! A beautiful rainbow in the sky despite that it had not rained. It was a definite sign  reminding me better days were coming. All I could think about was my friend, hoping she too would see the rainbow and move forward. That day may have started off the worst and that the road behind us may seem longer than the road ahead at times, but after that spectacular view of the rainbow I realised the WORST YEAR EVER itself taught me how to cherish my days with loved ones on a much deeper level and never, ever take them for granted again. What I would say to those hurting is, “When you ride the wave that brings change unexpectedly, find and embrace that moment of joy because my friends, this too shall pass.”

• The author Christina Slaven is a student at the Robert Louis Stevenson Secondary School (RLSS) and this short story entry won her 1st Place in the Year 10 English Category of the Samoa Observer Short Story Competition.