Mahalo: used to express gratitude (mainly in Hawaii)
Last month out of the blue, I was contacted by a Navy buddy (Lyle) who I had not heard from since our discharge in 1979. We talked on the phone for about an hour and caught up on our lives. It was great.
I asked if he heard anything about some of the other guys we worked with including Henry and Sully who were close friends to both of us. Both Henry and Sully were native Hawaiian, from the Big Island. I had been trying for years to locate them.
Henry was an easy-going soul. We spent many occasions on the shoreline; He playing ukulele and singing Hawaiian folk songs and I enjoying the moment.
Lyle heard Henry had passed but was not 100% sure. I was deeply saddened and realized that for the past forty years, I held to a memory of what used to be. And now seemed that for all those years, I had been hoping and trying to contact a “dead” man. I was unsettled with the uncertainty and not knowing. I renewed my Internet search to include Hawaii obits. Still, no luck with either Henry or Sully.
I was about to give up until I found a pictorial of our squadron that showed Sully’s first name: James. By a stroke of luck, perseverance, or holy happenstance, I came across a lead that connected me to James. Bingo!
If it wasn’t for one picture on his FB page from his younger days, I doubt I would have recognized him. We both lost our youthful head of hair, in our mid 60’s, and aged. A far cry from the young kids who were experiencing the good and not too good this world offers. Regardless, my decades-long search had ended.
James and I spoke on the phone and caught up on the past forty years. It was a surreal experience for me and great joy. After reconnecting with a long-lost friend, I could now let go of unanswered thoughts of what had become of long-lost friends who shared experiences in both work and play.
And yes, Henry had passed; some thirty years ago. So, in memory of an old friend and the good but outdated memories, I say to you, Henry: Mahalo.
And to James, the old friend of many years ago I am grateful that we’ve had a chance to talk again and to hear of your life these past forty years and the worthwhile things you are doing these days. I sensed once again, the same friendship from our past and a degree of surprise of our shared spirit of the present.
On the day I was discharged, James, along with Henry, and Nelson (another sailor and native Hawaiian) drove me to the Honolulu airport in a red VW bus for my flight home.
I asked James about Nelson. Nelson also passed away about fifteen years ago with Leukemia, leaving a wife and young children.
Of the four of us in James’ VW bus that day, two have passed. Two remain alive.
My day of passing will certainly come, yet it makes me think and contemplate, why Henry and Nelson and not yet me?
This recent episode surfaced a great Maholo (Gratitude) within my person. It refreshed lasting memories of long ago- to the present. And that (my) our passages through the light and shadow of this life – have perpetual worth and sacredness in the present. Not only to me but also to others – long after we are gone.
Amazed and too easily afraid
The mosaic piece (above) was inspired by writings from Kathleen Dowling-Singh’s book: Unbinding; The Grace Beyond Self.
These three great tasks seem useful markers for where I am in life. The Greek symbol Omega signifies the “end of something.” There is always an “end of something.” One day it will be the breath of life; yet not the end of spirit or soul. Keeping mindful of this can make a whole lot of things in our lives – seem very small.
ps. I’d love to hear any comments you are willing to share about confronting mortality, stilling the mind, and opening the heart.
Thank you for introducing me to the word “Mahalo”. Your prompting invited me to ponder on those people in my life that have left footprints in my heart.
I was particularly drawn to your mosaic. It drew me in and allowed me to ponder on Kathleen Dowling-Singh’s quote on the three tasks of human life. All these 3 tasks: confronting our mortality, stilling the mind, and opening the heart are challenging me to go deeper. I pray that with God’s grace, I can move deeper in this direction.
I am grateful to walk with you
Your true story of the four once-young-men who believed they would always remain so is very tender and deep . Thank-you for sharing this, Guy. It’s a mystery why some of us journey here for a short time and others of us seem to stay and stay. Why them and not us? Why us and not them? The amount of time we each receive is truly a mystery. I remember youthful friends on the beach, too, when we all believed life would remain just as it was in those golden moments. We couldn’t begin to fathom it changing and certainly not ending. Then cancer came for Jane, cancer came for Carrie, and AIDS came for Tim. Not one of them made it to 44. And, I’m still here. The rest of us are all still here. In the continuing, yet waning, daylight of my days it seems a turn toward home is coming. I don’t know when. I don’t know where. I don’t know how. I don’t think it matters. What matters is Jane’s talent, Carrie’s enthusiasm for Christ, and Tim’s passion for life. If I can honor them, if I can carry their gifts forward, if I can honor who they were by how I live, it’s all good. And the daylight of my days will continue to wane, I’ll start bumbling around like my Mom, and my friends will start to wonder if they should do something with me. And, I’ll be okay with all of it because I have a lot, many more than named in this little ditty, of people waiting for me. I just want to make them proud in the interim. That’s all. I just want to do a good job on their behalf because their time was short changed. That’s my offering.
Your reflection has brought tears to my heart. And now I feel your sisterhood. I am grateful