Remembrance

Whenever I travel, or have the opportunity to experience fortunate events, I wear Sean’s bracelet.  It serves as an active visual reminder to be present every moment.  It reminds me exactly how fortunate I am to be experiencing the things I am, as well as how precious life is.  Sean never had the chance to live his dreams fully – to let his destiny materialize and unfold.  His early passing has encouraged me to truly live life to the fullest; to not hold back on things I wish to achieve; for one never knows how much time they may have left to be a ‘doer’ instead of just a ‘talker’. 

The week before leaving I was able to visit the memorial cross on the highway where Sean was killed.  Even though the third anniversary of his death had just passed, I had never before been able to drive to that spot.  I had come close on a couple of occasions, but was overwhelmed, and had to turn back.  The reality of the situation was most present for me there, because it was where he took his last breaths.  Sitting on the sunny patch of grass, under the cross erected for Sean and Blake, I reflected on how wonderful of an opportunity I was embarking upon, and how I must never take it in vain. 

Shortly after arriving in my host families abode here on island, I learned of the passing of their young son.  He had died of a heart condition in 2007, as the family was not able to pay for him to be flown to Hawaii where better treatment could be provided.  He was 11 years old.  It was impossible not to be affected by this, seeing the sad, distant look in my host mother’s eye as she struggled to find the English words to tell me of his tale.  His name was Stuark (pronounced ‘Stark’), and his memory is not forgotten.  I was very conscious of Stuark’s passing while staying in their home – afterall, he is buried in their front yard, under a white concrete tomb with a small headstone.  A photo of his face is etched in the headstone, and it is decorated with leis. 

Every night before going to sleep in the bed provided to me by my host family (which only after moving out did I realize was their own bed, they had given up for me), my host parents would wish me a restful night sleep.   They would tell me ‘We wish for you to have good dreams’.  Each morning, they would ask me “Mey La Nie, did you have any bad dreams?”.  I would always reply that I hadn’t, as I strangely never remembered a single dream while sleeping in their home.  The smiles about my nightmare-free rests were increasingly large with each passing morning.  Finally, one morning my host mom shared with me that they believed that their son Stuark had been looking over me, and would never allow bad dreams to “enter my body while sleeping”. 

One day, I noticed a calendar on the wall, that hadn’t been changed since 2007.   June 4 was circled in red, with Stuark’s name written on that date.  That was the date of his passing.  I stood staring at that calendar, in awe of the closeness between the date of his passing, and of Sean’s.  Given that the day skips ahead at the international date line, June 4 here in the South Pacific, and June 3 at home, are the same day.  This means that on the day we mourned the one year anniversary of Sean’s passing at home, my host family was mourning Stuark’s death. 

I felt shivers running up and down my spine looking at that calendar, and when I told my host mom about the dates, she began to cry.   “That is why you came to us, Mey La Nie.  I am all alone, with my children moved to the States, and Stuark dead.  He doesn’t want me to be alone.  So, he sent me you.  Sean helped him.  Sean and Stuark sent you to me so I wouldn’t be alone.  That is why you are here”.  It was a very emotional moment for both of us.  One of the rare moments in life where you are truly touched, and moved deeply.  Words can’t explain the emotion of that moment.

Having been out of my host family’s home for 6 weeks now, I will admit, I do not think of Stuark every day.  I do not see his grave every day as I leave the house.  But, from time to time, I will see my host mom and she will tell me that she is “very sad and homesick for Mey La Nie, and Stuark”.  She misses us. 

Three weeks ago, I received a phone call from my host dad.  There was a contentedness in his voice I’ve learned is reserved for special occasions.  He said he wanted to share some news with me.  His niece had just delivered a baby boy.  His niece is not married, and commonly when this happens here, the child is adopted by extended family.  My host parents have made arrangements to adopt the baby, and are through the moon with excitement.  Their niece has asked their permission to name the boy Stuark, in honour of  their passed son.   This is an honour for them, and my host mom cried many tears of happiness at the news.  

They called me to share the news, but also, to ask me a question.  “We want to name the baby something that will remind us of you”, my host dad shared, while my host mom asked in her native tongue “How do you spell the name of her cousin who passed away the same day as Stuark?”.  I was so overwhelmed, I wasn’t sure I could state the 4 letters that make up his name….

Sean Stuark Arney Jonas, was born on, September 16 ^th, 2009. 

In case this wasn’t an enormous enough honor, my host parents proceeded to ask me for another name, “.. an Irish name, so we can think of you”, for their unborn grandson, as their daughter-in-law on Hawaii was expecting.  I made a few suggestions, somehow still managing not to choke beyond the point of coherence…

Liam Stuark Tarnell, was born this morning, October 11, 2009. 

( photo: children on makeshift coconut tree raft, Tafunsak )