Kauai

By Mary Lu Everett

I see you sitting on the patio
Slouched back
Soaking up the sun and the morning
White floppy sail cloth hat
Worn tee shirt
Baggy shorts
Barefoot
Big Smile

Photo by Dan Mitchell

I see you sitting on the sand
At the water’s edge
Struggling to pull your fins
Over swollen feet
Standing awkwardly
Uncharacteristically unstable
In the strong surge as you wade deeper
You turn to smile at me before deftly snorkeling off

I see your thin but still athletic body
Flanked by strong sons on each side
Lifting you through the undertow and
Positioned for you to catch
A big wave at Shipwreck Beach

I spot your familiar upraised left foot
Cutting through the foam
Marking the path of your submerged body
Hurtling forward and washing ashore.
You arising battered, dripping, laughing.

I see you in a blue windbreaker
On a huge white Catamaran
Plying the NaPali coastline
Surrounded by beautiful bikini clad granddaughters
Running back and forth to bring you
As the vessel sways and dips 
And spinner dolphins dance around the prow.
You enjoying the day;
Enjoying your life.

I see you blowing out the candles on your cake
Which was concocted and decorated from scratch
With utensils and ingredients collected and pressed into service
By your granddaughters in understocked resort condo kitchens.

Your face is glowing
You request the assistance of your youngest grandson
To blow out the 90 candles.
I see you paging carefully through the memory book lovingly assembled.
Pages of pictures, tributes, writings, stories,
Created by each family member,
A collage from many perspectives
Blank pages at the end

Room for a life with still much to come
It was less than 18 months ago but
I felt the need to revisit this island;
This place.
I hoped to air out my packed sadness and grief in the island sun
I knew I would be remembering you, missing you,
I didn’t know that I would be seeing you everywhere
And be buoyed by the joie de vivre you left in your wake
It did not die with you Dad.
Aloha

Photo by Nancy Rubin

Mary Lu Everett
Born in 1945