Aloha Oe

My mom died two years ago on Mothers’ Day, at the age of 90.  She had been telling us for the past 10 years of her life that she was “ready to go.”  She missed my dad.  And as Alzheimer’s slowly and steadily stripped away at her she seemed only to become more “ready to go.”

Mom was the oldest of four kids in her family.  She and her sister Elaine, the second oldest in the family, were two years apart.  And in virtually every other way imaginable they were together.  They were the best of friends growing up.  Elaine entertaining Mom during a lengthy bout with scarlet fever when they were little girls.  Mom protected Elaine and the others during the hardships and uncertainties of the Great Depression. 

As teens and young adults they double-dated, often sitting up late at night visiting about the things young girls visit about.  Harmonizing on the popular songs of the day.  And giggling into the night.  In fact, it was Elaine who set up Mom on a blind date, with Dad.  So it was fitting that a year or so later they were married, Mom and Dad, and my Aunt Elaine and Uncle Carl, in a double wedding. 

In the early years of their marriages they both ended up moving from the Midwest out to Washington state.  Still close, geographically and emotionally.  They would get together frequently, kids in tow.  And while the cousins played the two sisters would sit at the kitchen table and visit, often breaking into song.  Their songs and visiting punctuated with giggles.

Elaine and her family moved to Hawaii for a few years while we were all kids.  The two sisters kept in touch with handwritten letters, and the very rare long-distance phone calls.

I was nearly a teenager when they moved back to Washington state, closer to our family.  Oh gosh, the excitement at our house when that was announced!  And over the next years, once again, when our two families got together we kids would each pair off with our same-aged cousins, and the two sisters would sit and visit, often breaking into song.  Their songs and visiting punctuated with giggles.

The last time they saw each other, Elaine had come up to Alaska on a cruise ship to visit Mom in a long-term care facility.  Mom recognized her younger sister, but wasn’t able to do much other than hold Elaine’s hand.  And Elaine spent the day sitting next to Mom, holding her hand, catching her up on what was happening with family near and far.  And singing some of the old songs which Mom could still recognize and hum harmony on. 

Then a year or so later Elaine came to Mom’s celebration of life.  My cousins brought her.  By then she was beginning to develop some of the same symptoms we’d seen years earlier in Mom.  She knew who we all were, kind of.  Although it was hard to be sure because her gracious and friendly spirit hid any confusion we might otherwise have recognized.  She told me several times that she was sorry to hear that my mom had passed, and that she sounded like she’d been a wonderful lady. 

Just as we were beginning the brief service, Elaine stood up near the front and began to sing. It was a spontaneous gesture.  She was moved.  So she stood and sang a song she’d learned during her years in Hawaii.

 Aloha Oe. 

Some of our cousins looked uncomfortable.  I think maybe worried that their mom was disrupting.  Interfering with what we had planned.  Not sure how best to intervene.

And I thought it was perfect.

Perfect!

In that very moment I could see Mom again.  Standing somewhere nearby.  Once again young and beautiful.  Glowing.  Loving all of us.  Smiling lovingly at her younger sister, who even through the confusion of dementia might just have had a clearer understanding of what this celebration of life was all about than any of the rest of us.

“Aloha Oe,” she sang.  Until we meet again.

And I’m just guessing, but I’m pretty sure Mom reached out and took hold of Elaine’s hand while she sang.  Smiling at her.  Loving her.  Honored by her song.  And enjoying once again her sister’s beautiful gift of singing. 

Other people said touching things, sharing memories and stories for Mom’s celebration of life.  The whole afternoon was a loving tribute to our mom.  And we were surrounded by loved ones. 

But my Aunt Elaine’s song stands out the clearest to me now.  It has become one of my most precious memories of that day.  Of Mom’s celebration of life.

And I imagine that the day is not too far off when Mom and her younger sister will be together again.  Both once again young and beautiful.  Together, holding hands.  Visiting and singing.  Giggling into the night.

Until then, “Aloha Oe.”  Until they meet again.

Postscript:  My Aunt Elaine passed away a few weeks ago.  Like Mom, hers was a life well lived, and much loved.  And I really am pretty sure that Mom was there to take her hand and bring her along.  Eager to catch her up on everything.  I can almost hear them.  Singing and giggling.  Together again.