Grandmas Smile: Part three of My memories of Grandma

Aloha, my Family and Friends. As I have mentioned previously... you can read my chaotic brain scribbles in any order that suits you but if you want to see how the dots connect, Please read my other two blogs. 1) GRANDMAS VOICE and 2) GRANDMAS HANDS. 

Conrad and Violet Nathaniel. My Grandpa and Grandma

Grandmas Smile.

2:58 AM - Friday, March 28th, 2014: Iʻve become a little afraid of opening my computer these days. Just a little flutter of unease. Or maybe thats just the little baby in my tummy wiggling in my uterus. Either way, writing has become a tinsy bit harder. 

I donʻt know what is going to come out. Last night, I thought about what I might write today and how I might start. I thought about my Grandmother and her beautiful smile. Do you want to know what came out?

Selfishness. Anger. Resentment. All the things Iʻve been telling myself that I did not feel. 

I RESENT myself for not being there more while she was sick. I HATE that I wasnʻt there. I HATE that my life choices took me away from her. I wish I could have made more time. That even when I did live on the Big Island I hardly got to see my Grandma. I HATE myself for not making more time. 

I am ANGRY that she left. If I ever see the stupid doctors that gave her those pain killers I will hurt them. There will be no painkiller strong enough to shield them from my ANGER. I BLAME THEM. I BLAME GOD. I HATE that God decided it was time for her to go. I Hate that she couldnʻt pull through like she ALWAYS DID. I hate that her body gave up. I hate that her BODY wasnʻt STRONG ENOUGH to STAY. SHE WANTED TO STAY AND WHY DIDNʻT YOU LET HER!!! HER MIND WAS SCREAMING TO STAY!

I am so SELFISH. I want my Grandmother. MY Grandma! She was MINE. She was YOURS. She was every bodies. AND SHE WAS MINE! I want her to hold me, to hold ALL OF US and tell us that she loves us. I am so selfish. I want to sit with her and talk and have her teach me ONE MORE THING. I donʻt care what. I miss being taught by her. I am so so very selfish…

This is all wrong... I know that this is all the worst things I could possibly say. But as Grandma would probably write  "If you donʻt like how it tastes... MAKE YOUR OWN!

I want to see my Grandma smile. Please. Just one more smile. Maybe if I had had that, this would have been easier...

…

Grandma. 

We all went to bed that night thinking the worst but hoping… praying for the best. I knew you would wake up the next day. I knew that Leimaile would sing a “Maile Lei for Your Hair” and you would wake up. Your arms and hands would lift to the sound of the music and you would dance in bed for us. You would smile at all of us. I knew you would pull though. 

I know you didnʻt want to leave. I know you fought. I know you were trying to ask us to help you and we tried. We all tried. The Doctors and Nurses. They tried. Your Brothers. Your Husband only left your side to sleep and eat. Like you would have wanted him to. The rest of the time… he was there… Trying. Your Daughters. They tried. Your Grandchildren… tried so hard. Your Great-Grandchildren, Cousins, Friends. We all tried to help…

…

March 15, 2014. We got the phone call. Aunty Lorie had tried to call my mom and I but finally got a hold of Leimaile. As soon as I heard her phone ring I was up. I didnʻt move from my curled up position in the comfort of the hotel bed. Maybe I could pretend that the phone call hadnʻt come. I could close my eyes and fade back into happier dreams.

Leimaile answers and gives the phone to my Mom. My moms voice is calm, giving nothing away. She says something about it being her responsibility to tell him and hangs up. I didnʻt really catch the conversation. I didnʻt really want to catch it. My momʻs voice rings over me, Leimaile and Jason.

“Grandma expired a few minutes ago.”

Expired. Thatʻs not a word my Mom would use. It must have been said by the doctor, the nurse. I can feel itʻs usefulness as I type. That word is so much easier to say than all the alternatives. It gives everything a mechanical baring to it. Sterile. 

Expired. Much easier to say than Passed or Died. 

Expired.

I curl into myself. Expired. I will the pain as far away as possible. Jason puts his arms around me, trying to protect me from the onslaught of sorrow. I sob. It feels so good in his arms… but he canʻt protect me from what is already inside. The Pain recedes enough for me to stand and go to my sister. I hold her for a bit and turn to my Mom. My sister, Jason and I all gather our arms around her. 

My Mom says she woke up at 4 AM with the feeling that she should go to the hospital. She knew something was wrong. I tell her she couldn't have known. None of us believed this would happen. She is in a state of … shock? No… responsibility. 

She says she has to tell my Grandfather.

We all click into work mode. The sorrow comes in tides. Ebbing and flowing but we need to keep our feet grounded in the black sands on the Big Island. We cannot afford to lose ourselves.

I think it hits both of us at the same time. Leimaile and I look up and have the same thought.

Dad and Kepa are due to arrive in less than two hours. Kepa was supposed to be another surprise for Leimailes birthday.

Leimaile says, “Didnʻt anyone tell Grandma that Kepa was coming.” I think maybe Leimaile thought that Grandma might have stayed a little longer knowing that her youngest Grandson was coming. I let her know that Grandma was told… and that at least we are all here now.

The decision is made. We will go to The House and Mom will tell Grandpa. Mom will take grandpa to the hospital. Jason and I will go get Dad and Kepa. I look to Leimaile. “Would you like to come with us to go get Dad and Kepa or go with Mom to the hospital?”

Leimaile decides to come with us to go and get Kepa and Dad. 

We get into the rental car and drive to the house. Words are spoken. I donʻt remember any of it. I hope Jason drove because I cannot remember getting to the house. I was on auto-pilot. Mechanical. 

Kristian is outside sitting on a bench. She is listening to something. Music? Her face is tear streaked and my heart opens a little as I hold her. I canʻt break yet. I cannot Expire. Not until I help my Mom do what she must. I hold Kristian for as long as my heart can take it. I let go and go inside.

Kaeo. He almost made me crack. His eyes are full of sorrow and the weight of knowledge. He knows and he cannot tell our Grandfather. I hold onto Kaeo. I want to swallow his Pain into my own. What I failed to realize is that in that moment… our pain is universal. Tapped and sent throughout all who our Grandma touched. I look at him and steel myself once again.

Moments pass… I am following my Mom in to my Grandpas room. It is still before 7 AM and he is sleeping soundly. I almost grab my mom to ask her not to tell him. Give him this last moment of relative tranquility. But that is selfish. That is wrong.

My Mother says, “Dad?” And my Grandfather wakes up immediately.

What happens next and the words that followed are too vividly painful for me to type. I donʻt want to remember - but I do. Every moment. I remember every word. The change in my Grandpas face. The moment my Mom began to weep. I crawled into bed on the other side of my Grandpa. I could feel the waves of sorrow drowning us all. Aunty Lorie and Kaeo come into the room. They bend over my Grandfather. We all want to shield him from the torrent, the onslaught of sorrow. But, again, how do you protect someone from that which resides and grows from within.

You canʻt. Not really...

I remember my Aunty Lorie saying, “Pili, you need to take care of yourself. You need to take care of your baby.” It feels like I am lying by my Grandfathers side for eternity. I donʻt want to move. I give my Grandpa a kiss. I tell him how much I love him and that I am there. I look at my Aunty and tell her to take my place by my Grandpa. She should be by his side. I stand and give Kaeo a kiss. I squeeze my Mom. I walk out of the room.

Jason is there and I hold onto him.

...

I am selfish. I want my Grandma to be here, with us, smiling. I know what you are going to say. I was saying it too. Grandma is in a better place, free of pain and drinking Crown Royal with our family up above. You might even get angry and tell me to grow up and stop my pity-party. To any of the responses I say… YES… you are right! But please do not tell me that do have not, are not, did not feel the same.

Because you would be lying. You are resentful, angry, and selfish. You wish you could have done more. You WANT and NEED to see Grandma smile without pain. And thats okay… cause I do too. 

We have each other, my Family and Friends. People never really Expire as long as we keep their memory and more importantly the HONEST feelings and reactions we associate with every single moment.

Baby is moving around in my tummy right now as if to remind me that there is love and joy and that I need to take care of myself and my family. I need to wipe my face, close my computer and sleep. I need to take care of myself. 

But, before I put my head down to sleep I ask again, How do you protect someone from that heart-wrenching sorrow that comes from within?

My answer… You canʻt Protect them but you can envelope them with 

Love 

...and maybe a smile.

Love you,

Happy Nathaniel

PS... "Grandmas House: Part four" will be next in this line of memories that may or may not end. Oh and... She did teach me one last thing in the last year of her life...

SHE TAUGHT ME TO FIND THE STRENGTH WITHIN. 

Grandmas Hands: Part Two of my Memories of Grandma

Grandmas Hands

Note: Please read these memories in any order because chances are that I will fill these stories with so many tangents that it will not matter. But if you want to follow some semblance of a time line start with “Grandmas Voice: Part One of Memories of Grandma.” Follow this link… GRANDMAS VOICE … then come back.

…

Iʻm at the Honolulu International Airport. Iʻm watching people flow in from the just landed airplane, their faces excited to be in Hawaii on vacation or business. Some look relieved to be home. At the gate, there are kids running circles around their parents. Hopefully they are running enough that they will tire out their little selves and fall asleep on the plane.

“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” the littlest one exclaims as he climbs a chair like it is Mauna Kea.

Hilo Airport circa 1982-ish. 

I can vaguely remember a time when I was that age, the world and all its goodies were mine to conquer. I remember playing in an airport much smaller than the one I sit in currently. Hilo Airport (before it was "International")used to have these orange and white blocks for passengers to sit on while they awaited their plane. If you go there some of them are still scattered around. They couldnʻt have been larger that four by four feet but to a toddler these awesome slippery blocks were well… awesome.

I remember playing on them with my cousins, Kahanu and Kehau. Sliding around them on our butts like it was the greatest ride ever. I remember my Grandfather and my Aunties watching on, making sure we didnʻt hurt ourselves or each other. Mostly making sure Kahanu didnʻt sit on me or his sister. 

I remember my Grandmothers hands lifting me up to hold me tight while I squirmed and giggled.  

I remember her hands caring for me when my body was flush with fever. I remember how she would wrap me in ti leaf.

I remember how her hands would lomi my opu when I had a sore stomach.

Grandmas hands were helping, loving, working hands. She has an entire cookbook of food she has made for all of us, written by her beautiful hands.

Aunty Stacie, Kalei, Aunty Lorie and Aunty Kecia... pounding the masa. Making Sweet Bread.

Yesterday morning we pounded the masa and made Portuguese Sweet Bread using one of Grandmas many recipes. Aunty Lorie measured the ingredients like Grandma would… partially from the recipe but mostly by the look and feel of the masa. Kristian pounded the first batch with Auntyʻs help and the second batch was mostly done by Aunty Kecia, Aunty Stacie and Kalei… but we all got our helping hands into the masa. We blessed the masa the way Grandma would and said a prayer over the final product. The bread was ONO. Grandma would have been proud.

A blanket I made for Jason.

I remember Grandmas hands teaching me to crochet blankets. Aunty Lorie said that one of the last things that Grandma said was that she needed blue yarn so that she could make a baby blanket for the little one yet swimming around in my tummy. The nurse had asked about the level of pain she was in one being the lowest and ten being the highest, and she said:

“TEN! TEN!!! But I need BLUE YARN!!! I have to make Piliʻs babies blanket!!!”

Even in pain, all our Grandma could do was give.

…

I love you Grandma. That is why you had the foresight to TEACH ME. I will take up my crochet needle and make your blanket for your Great-grandchild.
…

At the hospital… March 13, 2014... that first night I was in Hilo less than two weeks ago… you were sleeping. You didnʻt look like you were in any pain. Just sleeping. We all made a joke about how you were FINALLY SLEEPING! After a lifetime of insomnia you finally got some rest.

I squeezed your hand and let you know that I was there and that I would be back to see you the next day. I asked that you please wake up for us. Jason, my Mom and I left for Hilo Seaside to sleep. 

Day two March 14, 2014: We came the next day and you were still sleeping. The Doctor began to talk nonsense about how we should be prepared to accept that this Might Be It. Aunty Rocki let us know the details. But we were all still optimistic. We knew this could not be it. You had only fallen! A little bump to your butt! 

Aunty Rocki let us know some of the details about the pain treatment that you had been given. I have no words for the pain and helplessness you must have felt. Seeing you like that in the hospital made me feel helpless. But WE ALL pushed through because you were still with us. You were still fighting. WE WOULD FIGHT TOO.

We fought with laughter and love. We talked with you and tried to wake you. I took your hand and placed it on my tummy. Baby had just started kicking on the way over. I wanted you to feel your Great-Grandchild.

I really wanted you to be able to hold your Great-Grandchild.

I left shortly to pick up Jason and get some food. My baby was hungry. 

I knew it would happen. You opened your eyes while I was gone. I got the texts from Jastine and Leimaile. You opened your eyes!

Jason and I rushed back as the nurse was testing your reflexes. She did something that hurt your hand. I wanted to slap that nurse. You closed your eyes. You must have been in such pain Grandma.

You swallowed water and made some noises… I asked if we could give you anything else besides water. I asked Kehau and Aunty Rocki. Kahanu and Kehau agreed with me that you needed something to help you. They were still sending you that god-awful hospital food... so why not Pedialite or gatorade... something. Although internally I was frantic to help I think I asked calmly. I hope I did. I did not want to step on anyones toes... but the doctors said no. That you needed to take in more water and wake up a little more before they tried anything else. I couldnʻt... I wouldnʻt argue. Not with those who have been taking such amazing care of you. But as I looked at my cousins Kehau and Kahanu... I think I lost a little fight inside me.  It wasnʻt resignation, it was the knowledge that if you were going to pull through this... you would have to do it, somehow, on your own.

We could only help with our love. Grandpa sang for you. Leimaile sang for you. We all sang for you. We danced for you. We laughed and cried and shared with you. We tried to keep you up.

Before leaving that night, I held your hand. Your arms were swollen and unmoving. I asked you to please squeeze my hand. You couldnʻt. You didnʻt squeeze my hand, Grandma. Your hands were limp in mine. Still, Your hands were warm and loving and the same as I will always remember them. I gave you a kiss and said "A hui hou. I will be back tomorrow Grandma." I placed your hand once more on my tummy and left.

…

So… my plane is boarding and the other passengers are beginning to give the crying pregnant lady strange looks. I will continue to write until my hands can no longer move. What good can come of idle hands. I will put my hands to work to build, love and care for my family. I will use mine to tell stories, like my Grandma. 

I miss my Grandma. I miss holding her hand. Will you please hold the hand of someone you love. Hold it tight and feel their strength and love. Hold them please because one day you will not be able to. 

I want to hold my Grandmas hand again. But I canʻt. I want to giggle like that toddler in the airport and take my Grandmothers hand as she smiles down at me. But that time has passed. I can only believe that her spirit guides me and holds me tight. I can hold her memory close in my mind and on this page. Even though I canʻt hold her hand, I can always remember what those hands taught me.

Much love and aloha,

Happy Nathaniel

PS… Here is a recipe that my Grandmother shared straight from the pages of her first cookbook in 1999. I edited it a bit for spelling but I did not mess with the recipe. It is her mothers recipe for Portuguese Sweet Bread. Make it with your family. 

GRANDMAʻS SWEETBREAD

4 pkg yeast
3 c. water
5 tbsp. sugar
1 sm. mashed potato (or grated, up to you)

Mix in a covered 2 qt. pot until mixture rises.

10 eggs - beaten
5 lbs. flour
3 c. sugar
2 tbsp. salt
3 blocks butter
1 handful Crisco (yes, handful, thatʻs how she did it)
1 can Carnation milk and water to make 2 quarts of liquid.

Mix flour, salt, sugar, butter, Crisco, eggs and yeast mixture in a very large bowl. Add milk/water mixture a little at a time when kneading dough. Knead for about 15-20 minutes. Sprinkle a little flour and cover. Let rise for 2 hours. Pour dough into greased loaf pans. Let rise for 1 1/2 hours. Brush tops with milk before baking. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes. Makes about 6 loaves.

Note: There are a few things missing from the directions of this recipe. There are also a few things that are different in other versions of this SAME recipe. But... THIS is how she wrote it in her first book... so this is how I will share it. I will make this recipe one day on my own, with the hands that my Grandma helped to shape. Until then... 

Next blog: Grandmas Smile: Part three of my Memories of Grandma.

Grandmaʻs Voice. First part.

Grandmaʻs Voice.

I am sitting on my brothers bed listening to the sound of my Grandmotherʻs voice. I have about a dozen or so old messages dating well into 2012. In most of the messages she is just calling to check on me. In some of the messages she tells me briefly about something that is happening within the family. In all the messages… she wants me to call her back.

I wish I could call you back, Grandma.

A few days before Jason and I were to fly to Hawaii from New Jersey to surprise my little sis (Leimaile)for her 21st birthday I received a text from my Aunty Rocki:

“Ma in Hospital. Slipped yesterday. Small Fracture to coccyx. Doing ok. Morphine for pain & PT (physical therapy). In good spirits. Just sore ass. Hard to move. Will be in at least a week. At least she can communicate her needs well enough that I donʻt need to stay… Luv u.”

After dealing with a rare blood disease for sixteen years plus multiple heath problems including a dead spleen, I thought this was a piece of cake in the life of my Grandmother. I also knew that if this was serious, my Aunty would have not left her side and would have alerted me immediately. I was not worried as I dialed up the hospital and asked for Katherine Violet Nathaniel.

My Aunty Rocki picked up the phone and after a few words to assess the situation with her she gave the phone to Grandma.

I could hear the pain in her voice and tried desperately to ignore it so that I could keep my voice light and cheery. I joked with her about falling on her butt and how even I had a bigger butt than her. I heard her laugh a little. I tried my best to cheer her up. I even let her know that I would be coming in.(Even though you all know Grandma is probably one of the worst people to tell a secret to) I told her that Kepa (my brother) and I were coming in and we would visit within the next week. She seemed a little calmer as we spoke and I would have continued but she had to go into physical therapy. So I reluctantly let her go and after letting Aunty Rocki know that I would be there soon, I hung up.

That was the last time I got to speak with my Grandmother.

We arrived in Honolulu on March 11th 2014. That night my mom receives a series of phone calls letting her know that, somehow, Grandmaʻs condition has taken a bad turn. We donʻt really get any otter information besides that. Really, I did not want to hear anything worse and I am fairly certain that my family in Hilo did not want to give it. Worry is beginning to set in but I KNOW that my Aunty Rocki or someone would say if it was REALLY BAD.

The next day I called Kehau. 

Kehau is my Aunty Rockiʻs eldest daughter, my cousin, and before 1993, the closest thing that I had to sister when we were kids. She is the one who bit me and played Barbie with me and learned all the crafts from Grandma with me. She is the one that got all the pink stuff and Strawberry Shortcake while I got the purple stuff and Rainbow Bright. She along with my Aunty and Uncle and her brothers and sister became a part of the primary care of my Grandma.
So I called Kehau.

She explained the situation. Grandma had been given an assortment of drugs to deal with the pain and because of that, she wasnʻt waking up. Kehau said to get on a plane and come to Hilo.

We booked a flight for the next evening.

Arriving in Hilo at about 730 pm I called Kehau as soon as we landed. She said that visiting hours closed at 8pm but to tell the Security that my Grandmother was TERMINAL.

TERMINAL. That was the first time I had heard that word said to describe Grandmas condition. My Mom, Jason and I rushed over to Hilo Hospital to plead with the security to let us in. We saw my Aunty Cori as we walked across the street. She said to tell the security that Grandma was TERMINAL. 

At this point I wanted to stop and have someone explain to me why they were using that word. But there wasnʻt time. We dove into the doors of the Hospital and were greeted by a very long line of FAMILY. It took a good ten-fifteen minutes to kiss and hug family members I had not seen in months. The security let us in without question. I think he knew that if we were not allowed in, then heʻd have to deal with a group of about 30 irate Nathaniels.

We found Grandmas room. I saw Grandma. At that moment, no one needed to explain what terminal meant. Her face was devoid of the vivacity it usually had. She was skinny and gray. But… there was still hope in my heart and in the faces of my Family including that of my Aunty Rocki and my Grandpa who greeted us as soon as we walked into the room.

I tried to talk with my Grandma. She would not get up. She had not gotten up for two days. She had not eaten anything for two days and because her arms were swelling… she could not even take an IV. 

…

I really want to call you right now Grandma. I want to hear that youʻre, “taking it one day at a time.” I want to hear you laugh about something…Argue and complain about something or someone else. I want you to ask me how I am doing. I want you to tell me how cold it is on the mainland… even though I know… because I live there. Please Grandma. Please call me.

Iʻll try to write more tomorrow. I just cannot write anymore tonight…

I love you my Family and Friends.

Aloha,

Happy Nathaniel

PS… If there is someone… especially your Grandma or Grandpa… who you haven't called, visited or talked with for awhile… Call them. Old voicemail messages are a poor replacement for the real thing.