Commital...

With the passing of my Father, this past December, I was able to have his body taken care of at the mortuary, by a beautiful Hawaiian woman, who cremated him, but left his iwi, or bones, unpulverized. Much like my Mother, it allowed me to take care of his iwi much like the multitudes of ancestral burials, in the thousands, that I have had the honor of taking care of over the past twenty-one years. Instead of holding the bones of an ancestor who I pondered about their life, I knew exactly about the life, and the person, I was holding. I wasn't sure if I would be getting a rare ground plot at Punchbowl or a more common niche, just days before the planned interment. I have had my Mother's remains, in an 'eke lauhala, sitting in a favorite chair of hers in my living room, since her passing in 2010, awaiting my Father.  

I took my Father and Mother's remains, in their own individual pū'olo lauhala, and the koa and cedar urns, with me down to the ocean, just as night began to fall, on the eve of their service. It was getting dark fast as I sat on the beach with them. As the last of the people on the beach packed their belongings to escape the night, I began sifting through their remains and sorting their larger intact bones. My hand quickly covered with the accompanying ash as I strained to see in the fading light what I was doing. 

I thought I would converse with them, but found it hard to. I remained reverently silent. Holding my Mother's ribs, I thought about the incredibly Beautiful Heart they protected. Holding her hands, I remembered how she held my hands to comfort and reassure me so many times. So many memories flooded in as I carefully assembled her Earthly remains into her urn. My whole Life with her, reduced to the last fragmented pieces of her. I knew it would be the last time I was able to hold her in this Life. 

My Father's remains were equally somber to hold as I recollected on the time we spent together over the past year. Putting his strong hands back together, the hands that  protected me and comforted me. His arms, that lovingly picked me up and carried me away from harm. The bones that began to ache and fail him towards the end of Life as the ravages of Dementia set in. Lots of thoughts and memories entered my mind, words wished to pour forth from my mouth, to tell them both so many things, that seemed too little too late. So I remained in reverent silence. 

The wind picked up and some of my Mother and Father's ashes took to the wind, and in the fading light, I could barely see the swirling freedom of a Soul. I knew that I wanted to keep their iwi with me, because it was comforting, but I knew that I had to let them both go. 

After I was finished filling their urns, with their intact iwi, and then cremated ash, I had leftover ash from both of them. So I approached the water and before entering, humbly asked Kanaloa for permission to place some of my parent's remains with him. The wind picked up and the chilling water warmed around my feet.

I entered up to my waist, and pulled the handfuls of ash, spreading them out and scattering them into the water where they sprinkled across the surface, like seeding the night with Love. Little puffs of ash swirled in the wind. I stood there, in the darkness, releasing my Mother and Father, with quiet Love. Remembering so many things about this quick and ephemeral Life together. Humbly grateful that we had this time together. Sorry for the things I did to disappoint them. The hurt I caused at times. But also grateful for the deep expressions of Love we shared. Grateful for the sacrifices they made for their children. Even the deep suffering and heartbreak in their marriage. So I could be the person I am today. Forever humbly grateful. Forever in Love. With them...