We recently took a trip to Hawaii to celebrate our anniversary. The actual day is always bittersweet as we lost my brother on the same date. It’s a delicate balance of remembering him and celebrating us. The sting of grief is still there, after all these years. It can pinch and tug at my emotions, but so are the beautiful pockets of grace. I’m grateful I can usually navigate the tightrope between the two.
I wrote this during my daily walk on the beach. I often use the time to dictate thoughts and ideas for my blog and then edit them when I get home. My feet are bare. I carry my flipflops and a cup of fresh roasted Maui coffee. The frothy waves tease my ankles, and the sand gently exfoliates the bottom of my feet. The sun at this early hour is barely peeking over Haleakala. There are many people out doing the same thing, getting their morning exercise while communing with nature.
For me, it’s a time for reflection, a time to make new goals, a time to worship, a time to relax, a time to just breathe. Most everyone shares a smile. Some say “hello” or “good morning,” but the best moments are when strangers stop and chat. Invariably, the first comment includes something along the lines of “Isn’t it beautiful?” followed by “Where’re you from?” Our lives intersect for those few, brief moments, but the memories gleam bright for much longer.
I divide my time between staring at the horizon in hopes of seeing the whales that winter here and scrutinizing the beach for sea glass. Sea glass hunting is a bit like finding the prize in the crackerjack box. You never know what you’ll find or when it will turn up. I suppose, technically, broken glass is trash, but I find great beauty in the pieces I find. The sand and rocks wear away all the sharp edges as the glass is continually tossed against the shore. The motion of the waves acts somewhat like a rock polisher. Some types of glass turn out shiny, and some are dulled by the salt and endless pounding. But each is as different as a snowflake.
I think the process the glass goes through mirrors the process my emotions and memories have gone through since my brother passed. My emotions are tumbled and polished by the passage of years. Many of the rough edges that slice and cause pain are worn smooth. My memories of him are viewed through the cushion of time and bring more smiles than tears.
I’m thankful for the time I’ve spent in Hawaii this year. The aloha spirit is alive and well in nature and in the people I’ve met. The chance to talk story with the locals, the amazing food, the endless beauty, all have been pockets of grace amidst the sneaky wells of grief. It fills my cup for the upcoming year.
Happy Anniversary to my love. The years have been rich in blessings and sweet memories.
And to my brother, aloha, until we meet again.
I look forward to your blog posts! I can only imagine how difficult to share the joy and sorrow memories simultaneously. Your analogy to sea glass and memories is so true. Time does ease the pain, but the edge of sorrow is always there. Love the heart in the sand and I envy the joys of early morning sandy walks! Blessings to you dear friend!