Helena Strömbrö Ershag, editor-in-chief of Norran, died on Sunday.
This will be my last column in Norran. After emergency surgery for a perforated stomach ulcer, additional complications have arisen, and I find myself hospitalized in the surgical ward waiting for... Godot? Well, more than anything, I'm waiting for the certainty of what comes next.
Having hovered between life and death, I now have a one-way ticket to "don't know when, how or where, but I'm coming."
Incredibly, I've been granted enough time to talk through a lot of things with many of the people that I love. We've been able to say things that usually go unsaid in everyday life.
Throughout all this, I've thought a lot about spirituality. Or what should I call it? Astrology, healing, and nature mysticism have never been my cup of tea. I lean more towards the traditional.
I'm not a particularly spiritual person, really. But I've gone through a period of intense pain that has drained me physically and mentally, and then, of course, there's the whole process of preparing for my own death.
When I've shared selected parts of this experience in my columns, I've received an incredible outpouring of love. People rally around me. There have been calls and encouraging messages, flowers, small gifts, warm greetings, a virtual wave of love and support. And there have been prayers.
It's very touching. Those who call for a supreme being to intercede are sometimes mocked. "Pray for Gaza." No, that won't help anyone. Do something instead! Demonstrate, send money, sign a petition, use your voice and take a stand.
Yes, maybe. But in some cases, when cancer is growing in someone's body, and you can't exert an influence on that in any concrete way, what can you do then?
Some people kindly offer to cook or clean for my family, making our daily lives easier. A former colleague of my husband's, someone I've never even met, sent me a beautiful bag of carefully chosen stones and crystals, each believed to offer various benefits.
Offers have poured in: visits with shamans, advice to try a celery diet, and deliveries of health products. While not everything chimes with me, the underlying impulse to help has warmed my heart.
I grew up in the EFS church (the Swedish Evangelical Mission), and even though, as an adult, neither the theology, nor the actual practice of religion quite made sense to me, I can't deny it has shaped me socially and culturally.
People praying to God doesn't strike me as unusual. I find solace in it myself. When I feel powerless, it's a comfort to have someone to reach out to, to hand over the situation to, until I can reclaim my fighting spirit. Prayer in moments of desperation might be a very human response, even for those who wouldn't consider themselves particularly religious.
Love, care, and prayers from the hospital bed.
But many Christians I know go further. They have a structured approach to prayer. Prayer is a communal effort for them, with dedicated times for evening prayers at home and group sessions in their congregation. Here, they methodically intercede for all those they think need support. I'm pretty sure my grandmother diligently prayed for all her children and grandchildren every night of her life.
Thus, I sometimes receive messages or greetings from people I don't even know, saying they are praying for me.
There are prayer groups from Austria to Gothenburg to Piteå where people completely unknown to me devote their time to try to activate the highest power they know of, for my sake. They pray for miracles and healing, but mostly for me to have the strength to handle the various situations I must face and which sometimes overwhelm me. Recently, I've been the focus of many powerful entreaties via intercessory prayer — it's really a very comforting feeling.
But how do I respond other than to say thank you? Even though my faith in God is shaky, I do actually believe that there is an energy or force that permeates the world, perhaps divine, and all of us humans are a part of it. I think the energy can possibly be influenced. People have different ways of trying to have an impact on this force, whether that's balancing chakras or targeting prayers.
I'm also afraid of getting too tangled up in mumbo jumbo. I would never abandon traditional medicine, for example. I am incredibly grateful for everyone caring for me, from my oncologist and surgeons to all the nurses and caregivers. Their dedication to my comfort is total. They are amazing people!
But it's nice to have something else to lean on, even if it's just a thoughtful tradition that offers solace, and nothing more.
I have a favorite hymn that has stuck with me: "Blott en dag" (Day by Day). It's known as a funeral hymn, but it's really about strength throughout life. In fact, we sang it at our wedding. “As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure”, it says. A promise from God.
For me, it means that every day I get the strength to deal with all the problems I face. Perhaps it even means we won't be burdened with situations beyond our capacity to endure.
Reality, of course, often proves harsher. Many face burdens that far exceed their strength. And for me, "Blott en dag" will now serve as my funeral hymn as well.
But until then, to everyone who offers support and care, in whichever way you choose. To all who pray for me.
Thank you.
Helena Strömbro Ershag was not only an excellent journalist, but was also very kind. She will be deeply missed.