Last day in Hawaii. Headed out to the North Shore for breakfast at the famous Kono's Beach Cafe, where you'll get a discount if you are kama'aina, or a local or long term resident of Hawaii. Molly and James are trying to get their Hawaiian licenses for kama'aina perks. Me, I could probably pass off as one, given that my skin has been tanned golden to a crisp in the last six days. Not to mention I'm Asian.
We spent the rest of the morning sitting on the North Shore beach, mouth wide open in awe of the majesty of the waves as they crash into shore. Here on the North Shore are some of the biggest waves I've seen on the island. Perfect for experienced swimmers and seasoned surfers. I was quite happy watching people get tossed around, thankful that that wasn't me.
Today is exactly two months since Justin's passing. It seemed like it happened so so long ago but has it really only been two months? They say time flies when you're having fun, which was how this past week had been. Time is only relative. I remember vividly everything that happened two months ago. From the time of David's call, to my excruciating drive home from Charleston. From waiting to hear from the police to the never ending line at his wake. Time had stretched out to infinity then.
I'm still waiting to hear from the medical examiner. Why does it take so long? Do they always make families wait like this, in the dark abyss of the unknown? In agony? Can somebody explain the process to me to justify this wait? 60 to 90 days is a damn long time to put a grieving family through hell. Is this me in the second stage of grief then? Is this anger? Am I then past denial, and do the stages work in a linear way?
Let's try to turn this entry around again. As I sit here in my seat on the plane, let me perhaps quietly list in my head all the things I'm grateful for.
And guess what, nobody is sitting next to me on this flight either.
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