Connie & Toni

January 2009

Dear Family and Friends,

Thank you for your thoughtful cards, letters, and photos this Christmas season. Digital technology is getting more sophisticated and refined among many of you – bravo! Whatever the mode, we always treasure your news.

Our holiday plans were unfortunately derailed this year when on December 12 my mother Grace Katsura suffered a minor heart attack, which precipitated a rapid decline.

Four days later, my sister Patti Rollins arrived from Minnesota, and sensing that the end was near, we decided to move our mother back to my home. The move was seamless, thanks to a fabulous team from Heartland Hospice. The next day, she rallied enough to speak briefly to all the grandkids by phone. But she was no longer eating, drinking, or opening her eyes and soon relapsed into an unresponsive state…or so we thought.

That evening Patti and I grabbed our ukuleles and songbooks and serenaded her for two hours with all the Hawaiian songs we had learned growing up in Hilo. At midnight we decided to get some sleep, but as we were leaving the room, we were surprised by the somewhat melodic groans of protest that came from a previously quiet Grace. Taking the initiative to translate, we asked if that meant she wanted us to stay and continue singing.

We were surprised by her response: an emphatic “uh huh.” And when we asked for a request, we were utterly stunned when she hummed the first four notes of “Silent Night.”

Thus followed two more hours of singing, this time all the Christmas carols we knew, and it was then that we decided, with Toni’s help, to maintain a 24-hour vigil.

For three days her valiant heart beat steadily, though rapidly, because she had a fever.

Then at the height of the winter solstice, December 21, she died…..just three months shy of her 100^th birthday. When her breathing became labored that afternoon, a little morphine relaxed her and soon her breaths came intermittently, with long, even intervals in-between. I seem to remember ten of these because it seemed that with each one, she was releasing a decade of her long, well-lived life. The last one was soft, gentle, and peaceful, as if to whisper, “Yes, life was good and now I’m ready for my final rest.” My sister, Toni, and I were profoundly moved to be there at the end.

Turn-around time was very short. Patti left the next morning to join her expanding family for Christmas, and Paul and his family arrived from Philadelphia at mid-day. Renée and Grant barely got out of snowbound Portland, arriving the following day. So you can imagine how we scrambled to give a semblance of normalcy to Christmas, esp. for Claire and Julia. We decided to have a Celebration of Life ceremony for Grace here at home on Dec. 30, before everybody left. And so began a collaborative flurry of activity that helped with the healing process. Renée scanned old photos into my computer to start a biographical slide show; Paul, upon his return from the MLA Conference in San Francisco, added titles and music; Alison prepared a lovely program; Grant manned the kitchen and made sure we all took time to eat his nutritious concoctions; and the girls worked on an illustrated timeline of 100 years (world events running concurrent to Grace’s life). We wanted to show our local friends what her life in Hawaii was like and how active she had been since most of them only knew my mother after she came here at age 90. We displayed her varied and perfectly executed needlework, her meticulously arranged photo albums, scrapbooks she kept of her world travels and of all major volcano eruptions on the Big Island. We shared stories and sang her favorite songs. Claire and Julia told our friends about their idea of Planet Peace, a paradise where people go after they die, and where they still love everything that they had loved on earth.

During the past month I have been oblivious to the passing of calendar time and have paid little heed to world or national events, which so dominated our radar screen before the election. Instead, I have immersed myself in memories of growing up in Hawaii and reflected on the status of my children and grandchildren, who are continually evolving and maturing in gratifying ways. (Renée and Grant’s baby is due in mid-July!) I have meditated on the concept of “mother” in all its complexity and find it difficult to adjust to the idea that, as my children put it, “you’re the kupuna now.” So long have I thought of myself as “youthful, naïve, and gullible” that it’s terrifying to now take on the role of “the elder,” and the “standard bearer of wisdom.” Perhaps it starts with physical aches and pains, which I can certainly claim already. I do find some solace in the thought that perhaps my mother’s serene stoicism in aging and her graceful dying contain hidden lessons that will reveal themselves to me as time goes on.

Toni and I just spent three restful days in a cabin by the river in Big Sur. He’s had his share of stress from his side of the family. His ex-wife, who lives nearby and is a good friend, is suffering from end-stage ovarian cancer and

is desperate to stay alive for her first granddaughter. Toni’s son Matt and partner Erica had a premature baby (Alma) who was born 3 months early in August, weighing in at 1 lb. 6 oz. She is now over 8 lbs. and doing well after a long stay at UCSF Hospital. Alma is a survivor who embodies a strong will to live, and offers us much joy and hope.

This has been a landmark year of beginnings and endings in more ways than one. Soon we will celebrate a momentous beginning for our country, and indeed, the world, with the inauguration of our new president. In November, Grace voted for him and created a little chant, as she often did with the names of those she loved: “Obama bama bama! Obama bama bama!” she would intone in her melodic soprano voice.

Thank you for letting me express my cathartic ramblings this season. Toni and I send our fondest aloha and best wishes for a year filled with sanity, good health, joyful times, and economic recovery.