A Year Ago Today…

…my mom suddenly took a turn for the worse and ended up back in the hospital.

A year ago today…

…I bought a plane ticket to California for the next day to be with her and my siblings.

A year ago today…

…I changed my ticket twice trying to get there sooner.

A year ago today…

…it appeared that mom was rallying, so I changed my flight plans till the next day at a much reduced price.

A year ago today…

…I got the call that it appeared she’d had a bad stroke.

A year ago today…

…my brother called to say things didn’t look good and that I should get down there right away.

A year ago today…

…I found out that the last plane had already left Portland and there would be no flights till the next morning.

A year ago today…

…I frantically threw the rest of my things in a suitcase planning to drive down as fast as I could.

A year ago today…

…my daughter Leilani offered to go with me that night so that Nolemana could stay home and run the business.

A year ago today…

…fireworks began to light up the sky.

…at almost the exact time that I’m writing this, I drove down the driveway, crying, praying, that I would get there in time to say goodbye.

A year ago today…

…as I drove through Damascus, crying, fireworks were going off right next to the road.

A year ago today…

…I watched the brilliance of the fireworks along the freeway.

A year ago today…

…I picked up Leilani at the Wilsonville rest stop.

A year ago today…

…together we marvelled at the array of fireworks’ colors going off in every direction along I-5.

A year ago today…

…we prayed together, crying, that we’d be able to get there in time.

A year ago today…

…we wondered how people could be celebrating. Didn’t they know my mother, her grandmother, was dying?

A year ago today…

…at 9:30 p.m., just as we got to Salem, my brother called and said our mom was gone.

A year ago today…

…Leilani and I went back to our homes with plans to start again in the morning, packed for a longer trip.

A year ago today…

…my mother died.

And fireworks are again lighting up the sky…

…and I sit out on the deck, remembering.

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6 Responses to A Year Ago Today…

  1. clare bear says:

    A year ago today I was thinking of you & planning Musubi’s trip to be w/you. Tonight as I am listening to the fireworks & having a not so good fourth, I am remembering your pain & sending my love through Musubi, who will always have extra hugs from me.

    Aloha my sista.

  2. Kim says:

    Hugs to you, dear.

  3. AFK says:

    A year ago, the fireworks marked your mother’s ascension to Heaven and release from pain. We’re thinking good thoughts for you, Moki-chan.

  4. Aloha Mokihana, My heart goes out to you, as well as, prayers. Thank you for caring enough to share your heart with us all. Mother / daughter relationships carry with them deep intense emotions, connections, and roots. I am glad that your roots are still connected with your Ohana, it makes you the special wahine that you are! The fourth of July will always have a double meaning for you, and your family. I will now look upon fireworks differently. Blessing to you and your family dear Mokihana.

  5. Grief is hard, and is as individual as the person who feels it, yet is a common bond with anyone who has ever loved long enough to lose someone dear.
    My husband lost his father when he was 12, and his wife of 10 years when he was 29. He says it isn’t something you just get over. That level of grief changes the rest of your life.
    The pain is huge, yet as your grief matures, you find your life takes on a deeper texture, you have a greater understanding somehow, and you gain tools that can help others cope with their own losses. It may take a long time to get to that place. Grief weighs like a mountain.
    {{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{Mokihana}}}}}}}}}}}}}
    I appreciate that you share your pain on this journey.
    As always, you are in my heart.

  6. Ah, my dear. Your line about people celebrating while your Mama was dying really hit me. It brought to mind my brother’s death, when he was just 35, and I couldn’t understand how the world could just go on, as if nothing had happened, when my world had stopped cold.

    I’m sending hugs, really big ones.
    Anitra

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