Hawaii

As far as I can remember, it was a place where I can truly always call paradise. Where warm fuzzy clouds await the command of your very own imagination. Where calm soothing skies are only describable by the word beautiful. Where the ocean breeze caresses against your cheek after the chilly sensation of sea water drips away from your nose. A little place or "island" I like to call Hawaii. Having days where I would be awaken from the sweet easing voice of singing birds and falling asleep to the comforting sound of ukulele strings was merely a daily routine. The delicacy of Hawaii's nature is unlike any other place I've seen. From pickle-like feet covered in sticky sand to the sweet sound of the ocean waves nothing beats a day in Hawaii. Raindrops were the last thing I thought about in the Aloha state. Not till the day I thought would never come.

The no where near fluffy clouds sailed across the skies of gray while the morning breeze was nothing close to relaxing. Once I stepped off the plane I knew things were far from normal. I wondered where the rainbows have gone, why I felt like Dorothy? There's no place like home, right Grandma? Its just not the same. The first couple of days my aunts and uncles picked up heartbroken relatives as I waited at home gazing at the raindrops flowing past the window. I would try killing the drowsy afternoon watching hours of countless movies but that only led to me falling asleep halfway through the film. Still, the idea that each day brought me closer to her funeral only made my day slower.

Monday, December 15 was the day of the family viewing. It is when close family members walk into a dull room where rows of chairs face towards the end of the room where her very open casket lies. Once I walked in, I found the closest seat and carefully watched as my relatives stormed to her body. I wasn't too close to my grandmother but the suffering I watched from my aunts and uncles brought me to tears. I couldn't watch them cry, it really broke me down. All the memories I had were pictures of her holding me when I was a child, or her playing the piano while she sang. In every picture, she had the same expression on her face. A expression that would bring joy to all. When they called us up for pictures, I knew it would be steps I would have to take again the next couple of days. Every step that drew me closer rose the beating of my heart until I reached the last step. A step that froze my heart. There she laid. Peacefully in her casket with her colorless hands wrapped in a rosary. Her make-up done poorly able to tell who she was, her long dark hair tied back and her dress, lovely yet the last she will ever wear.

Well if I am right, a video camera is used to record moments from the past to say "I remember that, that was fun!" or "I wish we can do that again!" What I don't understand is why my mother wanted me to record the funeral. I don't think I'll ever be able to watch that video. The last thing I recorded was the toughest three minutes I will ever experience. The drops of rain slowly faded away and all that was foreseeable was the gloomy open sky. Everyone watched the grave diggers unstrap the coffin cautiously hearing every single buckle unwind. Unexpectedly, when her coffin barely moved an inch, a burst of tears screamed out from the crowd. I stood in the corner recording every single cry, every shriek, as I struggled keeping my fingers on the camera. Recording every unhappy look as they watched her sink. After her coffin was safely ten feet under, I shut off the camera and grasped my fingers on a rose. Sending my last farewells, I released the flower below hoping she received every tear. Hawaii will never be the same without you. Goodbye Grandma, may you bring happiness wherever you are, just like you've done to us.

Victorina Ulep Abuluyan October 30, 1929 - November 21,2008