Their romance spanned two countries and nearly 10,000 miles, dreams of life together nurtured with nine years of telephone calls, emails and the rare visit when he saved enough to travel from Portland to be with her in Africa.

Finally, after filling out reams of paperwork and providing proof of financial support to U.S. governmental agencies, she was allowed to come to Portland this past summer.

Married on Sept. 8, they made up for lost time. They lived in his Northeast Portland apartment and figured out the best school for her 11-year-old son to attend. She went to community college to learn English and hoped to one day be a nurse. He worked two jobs to support them and talked about getting into the welding trade.

He died of a heart attack days after Thanksgiving.

He was 44.

They were husband and wife for all of 78 days.

What determines the quality of a relationship?

The length of time together?

The intensity of that time, no matter how brief?

“He was gone so suddenly,” said his widow, Annabelle Aseka. “No time to say goodbye.”

To cope, she prays and draws on the support of her in-laws. In quiet moments, when she’s alone, she thinks of John Aseka and what he wanted for her, taking comfort in what she feels in her heart.

“I loved him,” she said. “Such a short time. Happy time.”

***

You need a road map to understand how this all connects.

It began in 1982 in Africa with another couple and another love story.

Kevin Thelin of Portland had joined the Peace Corps and was sent to the Democratic Republic of Congo.

He spent nearly eight years there and fell in love with Francisca, a single mother raising three children. They married and together had two more children. They returned to Portland, bringing the younger children with them.

But John Aseka, Francisca Thelin’s eldest child, was too old. He couldn’t get approval to stay in the United States, she said, so he lived with relatives, finishing high school in Africa.

Finally in 2009, John, then in his 30s, received approval from U.S. officials to come to Portland.

He had to leave behind a woman he’d fallen in love with.

Once in Portland, John earned his U.S. citizenship and kept in contact with Njiba Anne Tshibola, known as Annabelle. He worked as a security guard and at a packing company and began the long process to get the visas needed to allow Annabelle, then 29, and her son, Goodwin, to move to Portland.

Annabelle arrived with her son in August. She married John the next month.

“The night my husband died he said he was tired,” she said. “He woke up in the middle of the night. He told me he was fine, and I should go back to sleep. He began sweating and made noises. Then he was quiet.”

Annabelle called her sister-in-law, a nurse in Portland, who came to the apartment. After checking on John, the nurse called for an ambulance to take John to the hospital, where he later died from what was determined to be a heart attack. After a church service and burial, friends began showing up at the Thelin home.

“Prayers and songs,” said Francisca Thelin. “In the Congo, people turn to each other in time of grief. This was our therapy. Day after day we had hundreds of people in our home. They made us dance and smile. They were the voice of God. They were angels.”

She has already experienced much loss during her life.

“I am the oldest of 12 children,” Francisca said. “I lost seven of my siblings in the Congo because of war and natural causes.”

She said she thinks about her son daily.

“Every moment I feel he is around me,” she said. “That makes me feel good.”

Francisca was a rock for her new daughter-in-law, Annabelle said. “She gives us great love,” the younger woman said.

Annabelle plans to remain in Portland and will be working with immigration authorities to make sure her husband’s death won’t change her status. Her in-laws plan to have her live with them.

Francisca said her daughter-in-law’s mother passed away when Annabelle was young.

“She has no memory of her,” Francisca said. “John was everything to her. The person that brought her to a new country and a new life is gone. I cannot take away her pain, but I will be her mother. My son loved her so much. Now we will show her that love.”

Christmas in the Congo is celebrated differently than it is in the United States.

“There are no gifts,” Francisca said. “Our gift is time together. Next week, we will go to church, come home and eat and share the stories of family and love.”

--Tom Hallman Jr.

thallman@oregonian.com

@thallmanjr