Grandmas Love: Fifth part in my Memories of Grandma

Aloha My Family and Friends...

I should name these stories the “Airport Diaries.” Im sitting in the Newark Airport in New Jersey waiting for yet another flight. Another Severely Delayed Flight. I am on my way back to Hilo for Grandmaʻs Services. I hate having to write that. It is as if these journals have become my painful proof of my Grandmothers passing. By writing this all down I am assuring that I didnʻt dream up some nightmare, Itʻs not just another story that I need to write. It is my story.

I like to write fiction. This is not fiction. Non-fiction. The characters are real. The plot isnʻt some well-conceived drama of my mind. It happened. The feelings that drip and flow onto the little pixels of my computer are true. 

Thank you for reading my truth, my Family and Friends. Thank you for reliving these moments with me. I need you. I need you to read. You may not understand, you may not agree or you may not grasp everything fully… Or you might. Either way… thank you. If you haven't already please read these other blogs in the order listed. Its just better that way.

1)Grandmas Voice
2)Grandmas Hands
3)Grandmas Smile
4)Grandmas Strength

…

Grandmaʻs LOVE

Grandma... You weren't perfect. I have written that you were honest but sometimes your honesty was too biting and sometimes just plain hurtful and wrong. Anyone who was ever on that side of your wrath knew how it felt to be choked by your love. 

Love isn't always beautiful. You taught us that sometimes you can love so hard that it blinds you. Sometimes, out of love, you can hurt. Your lessons were not always filled with hugs and kisses... In fact, I know of a few times (especially in my college years) where you told me where to stick it. I know of a few times where you'd let your family and friends understand the YOU WERE NOT HAPPY... And you wouldn't keep it to yourself... you'd let others know that fact as well.

So what. You were not perfect. And neither are we. I'm not going to pretend you were. This is not why I'm writing about you. I want everyone to remember you as the highly stubborn, insanely loving, highly volatile, colorful woman that led our family.

I love you Grandma. I can only pray to one day have half the attitude you had.

…

And talking about attitude… since this is going to find itʻs way onto Facebook minutes after I post it on to Blogger… Let me discuss briefly about FACEBOOK. My Grandma, OUR GRANDMA, was famous for her Facebook posts. Especially the ones in which she scolded, berated, angered, chided… you name it… she said it! My favorite was posts in which she would let everyone know that I hadnʻt called her back. I loved those. I remember once I was able to call she would remind me that I hadnʻt called. I told Grandma, “Yes, I know. I saw it on Facebook.”

So in my last blog I spoke about the “NEWS” getting post on our lovely Facebook BEFORE the immediate family was able to contact everyone. THIS WAS ALLOWED. One of the “higher ups” said it was okay. No harm was done and I donʻt think anyone inadvertently found out because of it. 

If you go back and read Grandmas post of the last month… you can see where here mind was going. She was going to God. Her posts were celebratory and full of love. I think she knew something was going to happen. 

I just wish I had paid attention more. Lesson learned. Pay more attention. Love a little more… even on Facebook. Like it or not… Facebook has become a venue in which we can all share. There are somethings that should not be shared, of course. But I think, in cases such as this one… it is better to tread with love than to create another bad memory.

…

Love.

I love you, my family. 

My brother is weeping in my arms and if not for my Fathers and Sisters added support, both physically and emotionally, I would have fallen.

We all tell Kepa, “You are here. You are in Hawaii and you can still say goodbye to Grandma. She knew you were coming…”

I see Jason drive back up to the side walk and I gather my family to meet him there. More hugs ensue and I take the keys from Jason. I need to drive. I need to do something that will distract me from the turmoil in me.

We arrive at the hospital and rush upstairs to room 330. Everyone is walking out. They say Grandma is being taken to the Chapel there in the hospital. I donʻt want to follow everyone there. I want to see my Grandma. I want to wake her up. I want her to look at me with the unfathomable love that shown through her eyes. I want to feel the warm love in her embrace. I want my Grandma to be vibrant and healthy and…

I donʻt argue. My mom and her sisters are in the room. They will wake up Grandma. They will give Grandma the love and care she needs. I will see Grandma soon. 

I hug and kiss family as we tread downstairs. I see Aunty Sweetie, my Grandmothers first Daughter… her Sweetie. My Aunty gives me the biggest hug and hands me Grandmas pink and orange blanket. I hold onto that blanket as if my own child were wrapped in it. I put it around me and imagine that my Grandmother is holding me even as I walk into the chapel where she lies.

To explain, to write, to lay down everything that happened in that moment… that last hour in which we all would be able to feel our Grandmother warmth, to see her in her last moment… that would be near impossible. And I will try to remember.

The first thing I remember is the amount of love that vibrated with in that little chapel. It was filled with FAMILY. There must have been at least fifty people there. This had all just happened and already we were in the embrace of so much family. 

The second… is laying Grandmas blanket back on top of her. She looked so colorless in her hospital gown and white sheet. I lay that bright pink and orange blanket down and kneeled so that I could lay on her chest. I thought I might hear her breath. I thought I would feel her heart beat under my ear. I listened and broke. The little hope that I had held in my heart broke…

…I know that through out these memories I have said time and time again that i wish Grandma was here. Or that I feel as if Iʻm going to receive a phone call at anytime. But I know thatʻs not going to happen. I just donʻt want to believe it. So please… leave me to my dreams, lies, imagination… whatever you want to call it…let me have them. Please.

It was in this exact moment that I had hoped beyond hope that Grandmaʻs heart would still be beating. I tried to infuse the love within me and within everyone in the room back into her body. She was still warm. Still soft. Her mouth was slightly open as if to take a breath. I held onto her for as long as I could. I would hold on until I could hear her heart beat. But It didnʻt. Her heart was silent. She was not breathing. She did not respond to my touch, my plea.

Please wake up Grandma. Please.

There is a blur of music and memories. Kahanu and I, The eldest Grandson and Granddaughter… we say words. Heartfelt words. We toast to Grandma with the drink of the Nathaniel Family.

Crown Royal.

I canʻt take mine so I pour it into the Hawaiian Salt water that my mom is mixing to bless everyone. Yep… If you were there, you were blessed with Crown Royal. I think that had been Micah or Keanuʻs idea. Heh... maybe it was mine...

Another memory that stands out… My Grandpa. Heʻs sitting by Our Grandmaʻs side. He is silently supporting Our Grandmother, like he always has. Our Grandfather… I sit on the ground next to him and of course someone tells I shouldnʻt be on the ground. They are right. My belly is making it impossible for me to be comfortable in positions that were once second nature for me to sit in. I just wanted to feel like his little Granddaughter again. To feel the strength and love of my Grandfather. I sit in a chair and I hug him.

He looks at me a smiles a watery smile. He asks, “Pili, you think Grandma going let me sleep in tomorrow morning.” He laughs a little. The sorrow that radiates from him is thick. My Grandfather is trying to fight it right along with the rest of us.

I smile up at my Grandfather and I tell him, “Probably not.”

He laughs.

…

Grandma was never afraid to speak her mind. She complained about us all. I want to say it was because she loved us, but I donʻt think that is exactly right. She complained because she had HOPES for us. She had needs and wants just like all of us. She wanted you to pay attention to her and learn. She wanted to talk to you. She wanted to cook for you and wanted you to do the dishes. She wanted you to live in her house and in her love FOREVER AND she wanted you to get your own love, life, and home. She didnʻt complain because she loved us… HER LOVE WAS STEADY and NEVER WAVERING NO MATTER OUR INDIVIDUAL FAULTS… She just had hope for us. Hope that we would all continue to grow and become the better, loving, courageous, extraordinary people she knew we could all be.

As I said before… Our Grandmother wasnʻt perfect. Not perfect. Thatʻs boring. In her cookbook she actually describes herself pretty well…

“All in all, I know I am a good and kind daughter, sister, mother, grandmother, Aunty and friend. There are a lot more stories to be told, but Iʻm at a stand still. Maybe someone else will write another page or book. Till then, Aloha 

Lovingly,
Ma, Grandma, Aunty, Aunty Grandma and Violet”

Love you Grandma. I will write until I am also at a standstill. I will be good and kind... with attitude. 

Love you all,

Happy Nathaniel

PS… I think the next Memory will be of “Grandmaʻs House” but… I might change my mind and start writing about … well … whatever I please. Like Grandma. 

Grandmas Strength: The fourth part of my Memories of Grandma.

My Family and Friends… I am really tired. These journals are hard. Every moment I delve back into the memories I feel weak, ripped raw and my poor computer receives a Hilo Rain flood of tears. But after I put the final edit and find a few pictures and click the “post” button I feel this overwhelming sense of gratitude. I am thankful that I am here and that I can share my stories of my Grandma. Thank you for reading. If you haven't already… check out the first three blogs in this series of memories. 

I know I said the title of this piece would be Grandmaʻs House or maybe Grandmaʻs Love… but itʻs my blog and I can change things if I want to. And… after I started writing I realized that the title didnʻt fit. I will save that title for another day and another story. Instead this chapter will be titled…

...

Grandmas Strength

...

I really just want to crawl into bed right now. I want to curl up next to Jason and close my eyes and…

APRIL FOOLS!!! Itʻs about 1:30 AM on April 1st, 2014. I canʻt sleep. I close my eyes anyway and wake up a few hours later to the sound of my phone ringing. I look at my iPhone and a picture of my Grandma and Grandpa, smiling, pops up on my phone. Itʻs my Grandma calling to tell me this has just been one big April Fools Day Joke. I laugh and tell Grandma, “Good one.”

This wish is definitely foolish. 

Instead of foolish wishing… back to March 15th, 2014:

…

I let go of Jason and search for my sister. It is almost time to pick up my Dad and Brother from the airport. 

I donʻt know how I am going to tell them. I donʻt know how I am going to tell my little brother that our Grandmother is gone. Passed. Expired. What words will I use? How will it come out? This is a memory that I will create for him that will be burned into his memory and how can I possibly do that to my little brother.

Then my Mom walks out of my Grandfathers room. 

My Mom has just told her Father that his wife has passed away. My Mom had the strength to deliver to my Grandfather that painful, soul-shattering truth. In that moment I am faced with the incredible strength and powerful love of my Mom. I realize that as hard as it will be for me to tell my brother… telling someone… telling your Dad that his wife, the woman he chose to love and cherish… the woman who cared for him… the woman who gave him his children… telling your Dad that his wife has died…

I cannot even fathom finding those words within my heart. But she did. I heard her. I will never forget the love and strength my Mom had in that moment.

My Mom walks out of Grandpaʻs room and I let her know that Jason, Leimaile and I are going to get Dad and Kepa. We discuss it and decide it is best for us to tell them at the airport and drive directly up to the hospital after.

All of a sudden tensions rise in the house. Someone has posted on Facebook. Everyone is LIVID. Not everyone knows. My BROTHER doesnʻt KNOW!!! I can only hope that the post was after he got on the plane and that he doesnʻt check when he lands. 

If you have ever been on the receiving end of a scolding by Grandma on Facebook… you understand what the words TOUGH LOVE mean. She was brutal. And we were too. Aunty Lorie called everyone to try to get this taken off Facebook. 

It was a very bad mistake that was soon rectified. 

A few more things are discussed and we are all look… lonely. In these first few moments I think we were all alone in our individual loss. The loss of Grandmaʻs love left us all cold and wandering. I saw that in the depths of us all. I felt it in my heart. Even with the strength of our family around us… there is a sort of loneliness in grief.

I give my Mom a hug and kiss. I look to Kaeo. Both he and my Mom with the help of Aunty Lorie, Uncle Scotty and Kristian will care for Grandpa. I want to care for my Grandpa as well. I want to go up to the hospital to wake up Grandma…

Instead, I hand the keys to Jason so that he can drive and with Leimaile we head to the Airport. We will rush over to the hospital after.

It takes five minutes to drive to the airport from Grandmas house and we are early. I speak to my cousin Daniel. Daniel canʻt speak. He can hardly form words and our call is short. I speak with my Aunty Kathy Babayan. She will tell that side of the family as well as our friends at Hale Lokahi, one of the churches that my Grandmother loved. My eyes hurt as I scroll down my contacts list looking for people to call. 

Kepa texts: “Weʻve just landed.”

I look at Leimaile and ask Jason to drop us off at the front of the airport. I walk toward the receiving area. I was in such a daze that I donʻt remember where Leimaile went in these first few moments. I feel strangely alone. I look up and see my Dad strut up to me with a big smile.

He looks at me and I think he knows. He hugs me and I tell him immediately. 

“Grandma passed away this morning.” 

His everlasting always smiling face falls as he gathers me in his arms. I want to cry on my Daddyʻs shoulder… but then I remember the strength of my Mom. She held on until she told her father. 

Over my fathers shoulder, I see this tall thinly muscular long-haired Hawaiian bound over to us. I let go of my Dad and put a smile on my face. Kepa is so excited and happy and bright. I was to live in his world. A world where our Grandmother is still with us. A world of light. I look at my Dad as Kepa bends down to kiss my belly. In my eyes I think my Dad sees what I am trying to convey. 

I will tell Kepa.

Leimaile appears and we talk and walk to a more secluded spot. Kepa raps on about lots of things… but I canʻt concentrate on anything except him. He throws his things onto a bench and he finally looks at me.

“Kepa…”

“No…”

More words are said... but words really do not matter in this crushing moment. Leimailes arms wrap around our brother from behind as he keels forward into my arms. I feel my little brother as if he was the little baby I raised. I feel the little boy sob in the heart of the man he has become. My little brother breaks in my arms.

My Dad wraps his arms around us all and we are all kids again. 

…

Tuesday, April 2nd, 2014. 12:08 AM… I am slowly coming to the realization that my Grandmother has died. Slowly. I was there and so were you. You saw her. She was still warm. Still soft. So much so that I thought she could have been sleeping. I think Iʻve put it into my head that she is just sleeping. She will wake up and call me... 

But it is no longer April first and I am not a fool. I must put foolish thoughts aside and have the strength to carry on. Strength my Grandmother would have wanted me to have.

Earlier today, as Jason and I were driving to our ultrasound appointment, I almost broke. I looked down at my ever-expanding belly and I began to tear. Our baby will never know my Grandmother. Her voice. Her hands. Her smile. Her amazing capacity to LOVE. Baby will never know how it feels to be held by her. To have her tell a story of her youth. To have her smile that brilliant smile. Baby will never know how strong my Grandmother was.

… IF I do not teach.

Our Grandmother taught us all. She taught my Mom and her sisters and in turn I was also taught.

I must teach our baby how to tell a story.

I must teach our baby to SMILE just to show the world your gratitude for LIFE.

I must teach our baby how to have an OPEN, LOVING HEART.

I must teach our baby that HANDS were made for CREATING.

I will teach our baby what it means to be STRONG.

Strong like my Grandma.

One of my favorite pictures of our Grandmother.

Have Strength, my Friends and Family. 

Aloha,

Happy Nathaniel

PS... Here is something for your hands to create... It goes great with the Sweet Bread Recipe I posted a few days back. 

PORTUGUESE BEAN SOUP

2 cups red kidney beans - canned or dried
1-2 lbs. ham hock or canned ham - cut into bite sized pieces
1 medium round onion, chopped fine
2 cloves garlic, chopped fine
1 stalk celery, chopped fine
2 quarts water or more if needed
2 to 2 potatoes, cut into 1 inch cubes
1 large carrot, cut into 1 inch cubes
salt and pepper to taste
1 tsp allspice
1 can tomato sauce or paste
1 cup macaroni

If using dried beans, wash and soak beans in water over nite.

Boil ham hocks in water (2 quarts) until tender. Take ham out and cut into bite sized pieces. Put back in pot and add onions, celery, garlic, beans, tomato sauce, allspice, salt and pepper and simmer for 15-20 minutes. Add carrots and potatoes. Cook for about 15 minutes then add macaroni. Cook until macaroni is cooked. If seasoning is needed, add. Any type of vegetables may be added.

When using canned ham, and/or canned beans, boil everything together.

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.