Knowing that our ʻaumākua are there for us.
I’d like to talk a little bit today about the passing of a loved one. My kid sister Penny passed away about a week ago on Friday morning. I had flown over to the Big Island to spend time with her while she was in the hospital but she was pretty far gone by that time. I went every single day and spent a couple hours every day with her making sure she was comfortable, talking with the nurses, giving her light and love the whole time and even though she was mostly unconscious she heard every word I said and I actually raised smiles from her even in her state.
The thing that I say today is that one of the greatest honors and finest things that one can do in this finite life, is to be with someone especially a loved one when they pass over onto the other side of that veil, into the next part of their life. And I was very fortunate to have been able to be there with my sister.
I spent those several days with her in the hospital comforting her and speaking with her even though it seemed like she couldn’t hear me, but I assure you that indeed she did and she appreciated me being there. She stayed with us for a few days waiting the arrival of her daughter from out of state, and within three hours of her arrival, Penny passed into the next realm knowing that her daughter was with her.
Now, being the eldest in my family, it falls to me to be able to lend comfort, hope, and quell fears of the younger ones in my family. So for the next week that my niece was there, we spoke about wonderful things that her mother had done for everyone and how independent she was. We talked about the beautiful places that we had been together and with her children, and things that they’d done. We looked at photo albums and thought of wonderful and happy moments. We addressed the grief; we addressed the anger and disappointments in ourselves that we had not been able to do more for Penny. But primarily what we talked about was the beauty of life and the beauty of the next part of our life.
You see, no matter what you do while you’re on this planet No matter how much you do your best and no matter how you try to live pono, there will be disappointments. Disappointments in yourself, disappointments in others and of course those other people’s disappointments in you thinking that you should have been better or done more. None of that matters. Not when you pass. What matters is the wonderful memories that you leave behind and the way that you treated people while you were alive. We talked about all of these things my niece and I, and after her brother arrived, we got to talk more about those beautiful memories.
In my culture, the culture of my family and my ancestors, we write an OLI or a chant or a poem about our loved one. We call it Kanikau. That is a story which doesn’t necessarily use the person’s name but it uses memories and thoughts of the wonderful things that we had done together, places we had been in our lifetime and the things that we are reminded of when we think of that person who has left us. It can take some time for that story or oli to develop. It doesn’t always come quickly. But it is there, in your heart, in your love and in your memory.
This is when we ask out ‘aumākua to help us remember. Our ancestors will help us through the grief. They remind us that now, our loved one is with them and that they too are now ʻaumākua. That they are still with us and still send their love to all of their loved ones and decendents. This is what they do. Our ʻaumākua do not want to see us suffer, so they lend us pleasant memories to help us through our grief.
Aloha Nō
