Remembering Charlie...

Today I was thinking about Charlie again. It has been about fifteen years since I met him. Each time, powerful emotions continue to well up inside of me. I was working with the Burial Sites Program at the time and I had come into work on a Saturday to catch up on some paperwork. I entered my building and passed a Hawaiian man on crutches standing by the building elevator. I smiled at him and proceeded past preparing to go up a flight of stairs to the mezzanine level where our office was. Something made me pause and I turned back around to look at the man. He was in his 40's and wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Hobbling slowly on crutches wearing socks, he looked like someone who had just gotten out of bed in his pajamas.

I walked back to him and asked him if he was okay. He struggled to pull out a piece of paper, unfolded it,  and read it. He then looked at my plaintively and asked me where the law office was. He said he was supposed to meet an attorney today. I asked him the name of the attorney, and he replied “Kevin.” I knew Kevin the attorney who also worked on the mezzanine level.

Looking at his pained condition, I offered to go up the flight of stairs and see if Kevin was in. I proceeded up the stairs and over to Kevin's office where I knocked several times but no answer came. The man watched me from below. I went back down the stairs and asked the man if he had an appointment with Kevin. He looked a little confused and answered that he was supposed to meet with Kevin today. I asked if he had Kevin's phone number and he looked again at his paper for a while and then said he didn’t have it. I suggested to him that we could go up to my office and use my phone to try and get a hold of Kevin.

I helped him walk towards the stairs. He hobbled along like he was in great pain. Slowly. Deliberate step by deliberate step. It took awhile to get up the stairs and I began to think that maybe I should have parked him downstairs and went up alone to call. But there was no place to sit in the lobby.

We arrived upstairs and I had him sit in an office chair while I retrieved the phone-book to look up Kevin's law office phone number. The man introduced himself. His name was Charlie. His last name was a well-known Hawaiian surname. I introduced myself and shook his hand. He thanked me for helping him. I told him that it was no problem. I looked up Kevin's number in the phone book and dialed it. I got an answering machine, which led me to a cell number as well. I left a message saying that Charlie was in my office on a Saturday morning and if Kevin received my message within the hour, to call me. I then called the cell and left the same message.

Charlie thanked me again and said that he didn't want to keep me from doing what I had to do. I told him to relax while I copied some files on our copy machine to prepare a case. He didn't realize that a few feet away, in a locked room, sat about 100 of our beloved Native Hawaiian ancestors' remains in boxes on shelves, awaiting reinterment and disposition. As soon as we reinterred some, new discoveries would take their place. I knew some of my ancestors were in there. I also felt that some of Charlie’s ancestors were in there too. I didn't think Charlie needed any other concerns right then and I didn't usually advertise to office guests their proximity to the deceased so I didn’t say anything as Charlie sat there gazing around the office. I knew they were watching us however.

I asked Charlie what he would do if Kevin didn't call back. He replied that he would probably catch the bus back home and try another day. I asked him where home was. He said Pearl City. I asked him if he was okay catching the bus because he looked like he was in pain. He replied that he would be okay and further explained that he had cancer. I didn't have the presence to ask what kind of cancer as my heart and stomach quickly sank at the sad news. As a Native Hawaiian, he suddenly represented so much of the disaster of our people. Suffering. Hardship. We hold statistically high cancer, chronic disease, and mortality rates. Looking for help. I immediately empathized with him in his simple honest answers.

As I was copying my files, I glanced peripherally at him and saw him discreetly pull out his wallet and open it up. Thumbing through what looked like about two dollars in bills, he quickly secreted it back into his front sweatpants pocket. I noticed that he looked really thin and gaunt. Cancer. That insidious disease that stole my grandmother, mother, sister and so many other beautiful friends and family.

I finished copying and made small conversation with Charlie. He told me that he was referred to Kevin for a divorce. I knew Kevin practiced family law so that made sense. I didn’t want to pry, but Charlie seemed to want to tell his story in a cathartic release. He said that once he was diagnosed with cancer, his wife immediately requested a divorce. I immediately thought that seemed like a cruel response to someone in need and thought about the marriage vows of "in sickness and in health."

Charlie seemed to spiral down into sadness and his voice became quieter as he spoke. He hung his head and looked at the table. "I love my wife. But she isn't happy with me now. I am not sure how long I have to live but she wants a divorce. I need to see Kevin to help me figure out what my rights are." His voice broke a little and I had to keep my spirit up to avoid pulling myself into his grief trying to prevent tears from cascading. I wanted to lift his Spirits. As we talked, I learned more about him. It seems he had a hard life. The diagnosis of cancer was just the worst latest addition to his life. And the pending loss of his wife seemed even worse than that.

We had been there for about an hour, and I told him I would try Kevin's numbers one more time and did so. After another twenty minutes of no return calls from Kevin, I let Charlie know that I could give him a ride home. He said that he would be all right on the bus and said that I had done more than enough for him already.

I looked in my wallet discreetly, with my back to him, and found a twenty, a ten and two fives. I pulled them out and walked over to him and put them on the table in front of him. I said, "Charlie, this is for you. I know you can use it. I’m sorry…I wish I had more right now." Charlie looked up at me in disbelief and said, "No, no, no...I can't take this. Thank you." I turned back to the copy machine and said, as I feigned being busy with buttons, "You take it. You can use it. I have a job right now. I'm fine. I have everything I need right now in Life." He protested again and said he couldn't accept my money. I turned and looked at him in the eye. I smiled. I said, "Charlie. Please take the money. It would mean a lot to me." And I turned back to finish my paper shuffling. I glanced peripherally at him and saw him slowly take the money and carefully and neatly put the bills into his wallet, and then back into his pocket.

I told him I was going to gather up my files and then we would get him down the stairs and outside to the curb. Then I would go to the parking structure and get my car and come around the block to pick him up so he wouldn’t have to walk so far. He again said that I didn’t' have to do that. I told him it wasn't a problem and that I insisted. I suggested that he call Kevin on Monday morning and gave him the phone numbers on a little piece of paper which he stuffed into his pocket. I told him that he could make an appointment during the regular work week when I often see Kevin in his office.

I helped Charlie up and we proceeded out of the office. I didn't say goodbye to my ancestors in the room openly as I usually do, but acknowledged our departure in my thoughts. Charlie and I made it over to the stairs and began our slow descent. I could tell by the way he stepped down and grimaced that he was hurting. Sometimes, his whole body shuddered, as if electrified, with every bend of the knee. I knew that he was indeed in serious pain. I held onto him as we slowly walked down each step. Thinking to myself how someone could be in such bad shape. I was so thankful that I had my health. At least at that time I thought I did.

When we got down to the bottom of the steps, Charlie turned around towards me unexpectedly and hugged me. As he embraced me tightly, burying his face in my chest, he said, "Kai. I love you." He started sobbing heavily and his whole body convulsed with each sob. I immediately burst out into tears as I hugged him. I said, "I love you too Charlie” and I sobbed. We both cried our hearts out on the last stair as we embraced. It was as if all the pain, sadness and Love of our ancestors flowed out of our bodies and spilled out onto the cold tile floor in the lobby. At that moment, I felt like I had known Charlie my whole life. Through my work across the islands, I had met so many Hawaiian people who were so beautiful. Gracious. Loving. Compassionate. Forgiving. People who had truly hard lives with so much heartache and pain, yet so remarkably full of Love and Aloha. I had so much pent up grief and sadness from reburying so many disturbed bodies of our ancestors, men, women, children and babies, that it all flowed out as Charlie and I embraced.

We finally came to slowly cease in our open affection. I remember the smell of his hair and neck. Charlie released me and turned around trying to reposition himself on his crutches. I gathered my composure and stabilized him on his back with my hand, as we continued our journey to the curb outside. We both felt a little embarrassed for our open sobbing embrace, and loss of control, in the hallway. I told him everything was going to be okay, even though, in my heart, I felt things were not looking too good.

We made it outside and I positioned him against the wall while I went to get the car. I exited the parking structure and went around the block to pick him up curbside. He had a little trouble getting into my Camaro, so I got out and helped him in. I know it hurt him to bend his body into the seat. I still convinced myself it was still better than a long bus ride.

We talked on the long drive to his home. He said that his wife was already seeing someone else and hardly comes home anymore. He had to cook for himself but really can’t cook or shop. He said he doesn't eat for a couple of days sometimes. His wife doesn't take care of him or help him anymore. I was horrified. He said that he couldn't be mad at his wife and she deserved someone who could make her happy, because he was so debilitated now. He felt useless. I knew there were always two sides to every story but I had no reason not to believe his emotional account. It made me feel awful. I talked about some options knowing a little about family law and divorces, and being an attorney, but not enough to render legal advice. He seemed to feel better just having someone to talk with. Just having someone to listen. I asked him if he wanted to stop by a drive through window since he didn't have any food at home. He said I didn't have to. I knew I had to. We did.

We picked him up extra food and then made it to his house following his directions. For a minute, I was worried his wife might be home and come out of the house to confront him or me. I didn't know how I would react. I already had a picture formulated in my mind of her. It probably wasn't fair to her, but it was embedded there nonetheless.

Much to my relief, she wasn't home. I got out of the car and helped get him to his front door and we embraced again, and held each other for awhile.  I gave him my phone number, scribbled on a piece of paper, and told him to call me if he needed anything, needed food, or if he couldn't get in touch with Kevin. I drove off back into traffic to head home as I was already late for other commitments. I really felt depressed about Charlie’s situation.

I was able talk with Kevin on Monday. He let me know that he didn't have any appointment with Charlie that Saturday. He said he did receive a referral from another attorney and had planned to schedule a meeting with Charlie but hadn’t as of yet. He was horrified when he finally heard my phone messages from Saturday and let me know how bad he had felt about it. I allayed his guilt and let him know that it wasn’t his fault at all.

I quickly became engrossed and overwhelmed in my own world of hurt at work and it wasn't until a couple of weeks later that I ran into Kevin on the way to the restroom. I asked him if he ever met with Charlie. He said he said that he did. My Heart blossomed and I asked if he was able to help him. Kevin said that Charlie was in really bad shape and his circumstances were really difficult. I said I knew a little about his situation and agreed that it was dire. Kevin said that he wasn't able to help him with his current caseload but he did refer him to another attorney. My Heart sunk at the news.

I never heard from Charlie again. I never had the energy, time, or willpower to check in on him again as I failed to get his phone number, only giving him mine. I think I remembered where he lived after all the twists and turns in the neighborhood to get there. I should have paid more attention. I didn’t see Kevin that often after that and failed to ask Kevin for Charlie’s number. I felt guilty for years as Life just catapults you forward and time flies by so quickly. I had my own personal struggles and challenges after that, one after another. I tried Googling Charlie every once in awhile over the years, but feared finding an obituary. I never saw one, but also know that unless a loved one places it in the paper, you won’t necessarily have one.

There is one thing I do know about about Charlie. That is, it is possible for two complete strangers to meet by chance, sometimes once in a lifetime. Passing by each other only once in Life. In an unforgettable and powerful moment of Pure Love. Pure Forgiveness. Pure Empathy. Pure Compassion.

And at the bottom of a stairway, on a quiet Saturday morning, to have two Souls truly share powerful Love for each other, in the presence of, and witnessed by, our Creator, and our ancestors. Maybe an entire Life of hardship, suffering and disappointments overcome by one ephemeral moment of unconditional Love. I still Love you Charlie…and miss you.

See you on the other side my beautiful friend. May Ke Akua and our beloved ancestors take good care of you in your time of need, and end your suffering, where the living so failed you. Until we see each other again…