✨For anyone who’s ever had to carry on when the world stopped for them.✨

I don’t usually post things this personal. But this one has been sitting in my mind for a long time. If this helps even one person going through something similar, then it’s worth it. Consider this a signal: life goes on – even when it doesn’t look or feel anything like before.

In March 2021, I became a widow.

Ari – my partner of almost a third of my life – got severely sick, and two days later, he died of a sudden brain hemorrhage.

He didn’t even remember his siblings at the hospital.

He passed away one day after his 40th birthday.

We had been planning a big joint 40th birthday party with his best friend. Instead of figuring out playlists, I had to choose the clothes for his final journey.

And all this happened during the harshest part of the COVID-19 restrictions.

No visitors allowed.

No friends able to say goodbye.

No hugs, no ceremonies, no rituals.

I had to call each of his close friends personally and let them know he had died.

The funeral was family only.

But months later, when restrictions eased, we held a remembrance party filled with Ari’s favorite music, memories, speeches, and the kind of atmosphere he would’ve loved.

This is from Berlin. My first trip outside of Finland after his death. There was so much sorrow and heaviness, but it was also the moment I noticed I had started collecting the pieces of my life again. One of the images I look at when I need to remind myself that I made it through hell.

Who Ari was

Ari had a sharp sense of humor, a big heart, and a deep love for music – he played drums in a rock band and spent most of his career working in finance and insurance sales. He was the kind of person who could talk about cars, airplanes, politics, and art all in one breath. His favorite movie was Top Gun, and one of my favorite memories is him blasting 80s soundtracks while driving me to work.

It still makes me sad that he never got to see the Top Gun: Maverick sequel – he had waited for it for years, and its release got delayed because of COVID. He didn’t just love movies and music. He loved talking. Debating. Thinking. Laughing. He was intelligent, kind, fun, and one of the most deeply loved people I’ve ever known.

Some of the songs from that remembrance night:

• Enjoy the Silence – Depeche Mode (our song)
• Lovesong – The Cure
• Wind of Change – Scorpions
• Every Breath You Take – The Police
• Bridge Over Troubled Water – Simon & Garfunkel

🎵 His Favorite Bands: U2 & R.E.M.

Ari had many interests, but two bands stood above the rest: U2 and R.E.M.

They weren’t just music to him – they were mood, mindset, identity. The soundtrack of everyday life, arguments, long drives, and soft moments.

At the remembrance party, we played a setlist that reflected who he was and what he loved. Here are some of the songs that filled the room that night:

From U2:

• With or Without You
• One
• Beautiful Day
• Where the Streets Have No Name
• I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For

From R.E.M.:

• Everybody Hurts
• Losing My Religion
• Nightswimming
• The One I Love
• Man on the Moon

We didn’t just listen. We remembered. We cried. We smiled.

He would’ve loved the vibe. It was emotional but full of life, just like him.

His death announcement in Helsingin Sanomat (”Helsinki News”) included lyrics from Nothing Else Matters by Metallica. Because they mattered.

If your friend ever becomes a widow…

Don’t tell them to move on.

Don’t push them into falling in love again.

Don’t say “at least you had time together” or “you’re still young.”

Just be there. Ask about the person they lost. Say their name. Sit in silence if that’s what they need.

Because when someone’s whole world is gone, words won’t fix it. But presence might.

Don’t ever judge someone on how they had to carry what broke them.
You weren’t there. You didn’t feel the weight. You don’t know the cost.

Back then, it felt like I was the only person going through a war, while the world was already in crisis. I’m not proud to admit this, but when people said, “COVID is so hard, I can’t travel,” I silently rolled my eyes. I thought, Sure, let’s trade places. I’d give anything to be stuck inside with the person I love.

I was stuck in a different kind of lockdown.

One where silence was the only visitor.

What helped me survive

💜 Friends who are my family

👩‍💻Work that gave me structure and belonging

✈️ And the idea that one day, I’d travel again

Six months in, I started to feel tiny shifts.

– I joined a widows’ grief group for 10 weeks

– I walked 5, 10, even 20 km while listening to audiobooks

– Forests became my therapy

– I started taking photos again

– I hosted small gatherings – and got invited too

– I focused more on sleep and nutrition

– I moved to a new apartment and gave it a full redecoration

– I cried less

In the beginning, I cried every 10 minutes. At best, every hour. My eyes physically hurt from crying. Months later, I realized I didn’t cry weekly anymore.

A word about widowhood during COVID

It was hell.

I promised myself:

As soon as the airport gates open, I’ll travel again.

And I did.

I took few solotrips. Something I never thought I’d be doing.

I ignored all predictions that it takes “several years” to travel again. That “you’ll never be the same.”

👉 I muted those voices. Focused on healing. Prioritized my own well-being.

I stayed away from news. Not because I didn’t care but because I cared too much.

That’s a form of self-protection I can’t fully explain.

From widowhood to a new chapter

Eventually, I met someone. It wasn’t forced. It felt right.

We got married on 14th July 2025.

It was a kick-ass bohemian wedding.

I wore a pink dress. He wore a burgundy velvet tux inspired by Hugh Hefner.

Our wedding beer was brewed by a friend.

We walked down the aisle to Toto – Africa.

No boring program. We had an 80s-style AI-generated rock love song and a trivia/music quiz for the guests – teams formed by tables, not about us.

Because love doesn’t replace love. It adds to it. Because joy doesn’t erase grief. It grows beside it.

How widowhood actually changed me

People ask, “How did widowhood change you?”

Here’s the answer:

– I don’t stress over small things anymore

– I don’t go to parties if I don’t feel the vibe

– I don’t please people out of habit

– I say what I think – I’m more direct, more honest, more me

– I use my time and energy on things that actually make me happy

– I don’t spend time with people I don’t like – life’s too short for polite misery

Grief didn’t just break me. It rebuilt me, on my own terms.

This is how I made it.

This blog is for the ones who’ve seen too much and still believe in joy and for anyone rewriting life without asking permission.