Sunday, June 29, 2014


When I first picked my Father up from the Care Home on the East Coast, that early morning in May, I honestly wasn't sure if he would recognize me. It had been seven months since I saw him and I wasn't sure how far his cognitive abilities had deteriorated. Sometimes he would painfully ask others "Is Kai dead?" He had seen me in Queen's ICU when I was in a coma and on Life-Support in July of 2012. It was hard for him back then to comprehend what he was witnessing. He doesn't really comprehend that my beloved sister, Nalani, who passed away last year, is now gone. 

When he first saw me, early that morning, he had a blank thousand-mile stare as he sat in his wheelchair and the staff brought him to me. It wasn't until we loaded him into the rental car and we embarked on the long trip to the airport, that he slowly and laboriously reached over, grasped my hand into his, held on tight, and wouldn't let go for the whole journey. It moved me to tears.

Now, sometimes when he falls asleep, he struggles to reach over, and hold my hand, with both of his hands, before he passes out. It is security for him. A familiar face in an increasingly unfamiliar and frightening World. I can only imagine how I must have done the same when I was a frightened and confused toddler and in his strong presence. I am humbly grateful that I can return the Love. For him. For my Mother...