Pono catches my eye and nods solemnly. When he speaks, his deep voice carries across the assembled crowd. “We come from the Islands to honor a brother who showed us the true meaning ofohana,” he begins, and I have to grip Lani’s hand to keep from sobbing. “Hurricane proved that family isn’t just blood. It’s the people who stand up for each other, who risk everything for what’s right, who love without boundaries.”
His words rip through me, because they are true. Hurricane wasn’t just my husband. He was the man who fought for everyone, who carried the weight of the world for the people he loved. And I was the lucky one who got to love him back.
Pono’s voice rolls deep, carrying like the ocean itself. “I keia la, we gather inaloha. In our way, when someone we love leaves this life, they do not vanish. Theirmana, their spirit, flows back intothe ‘aina, the land, thekai, the ocean, themakani, the wind. Hurricane will live on in every tide, every breeze, every mountain that stands against the storm.”
The words are a balm, seeping into the cracks in me. I want to believe it, to feel hismanain the wind on my face, in the crash of the waves.
And for the first time, I do.
He isn’t gone.
He’severywhere.
Pono kneels and sets the hand-carved wooden bowl before the crowd. Water glimmers inside, carrying orchids and ti leaves, sacred symbols of protection and purity. Pono takes up thelei, lifting it high with both hands. “He po?ai haki ?ole,a circle unbroken. Thisleiis ouraloha, our promise that Hurricane’sohanawill never forget him.”
My throat burns, but I lift my chin. The circle isn’t just about memory. It’s about love, unending, unbreakable.
Ours didn’t end with death.
Itcan’t.
His voice lowers into a chant, rhythmic and reverent.“Aloha ?oe, aloha ?oe, e ku’u ipo aloha…”The melody rises and falls, carrying the weight of farewell and love. The gathered crowd bows their heads, silence stretching except for the chant’s echo. The feeling of home floods over me as a silent tear slides down my cheek.
The song holds me, steady and strong.
A goodbye, yes.
But also a promise.
Hurricane loved me fiercely, and that love hasn’t gone anywhere.
It’s in me.
It’s mine to carry forward.
Pono places theleigently into the bowl, the flowers spinning slowly with the ripples.
“Ha’alele ‘o ia i ke kino, aka, e noho mau ana kona uhane…he has left the body, but his spirit remains.”
I squeeze Lani’s hand and breathe in deep. It hurts, God, it hurts, but it also fills me. Because if his spirit remains, then I amnotalone.
I never will be.
The orchids drift as though guided by unseen currents. The hush deepens, thick with reverence, and I grip Lani’s hand harder, tears burning hot. This isn’t just grief anymore. It’s a connection.
Hurricane isn’t gone.
He is in the ocean mist on my skin, the wind curling around my face, the earth solid beneath my feet.
He will always be with us.
And I don’t just believe it—I feel it.
His strength is in me.
His love wraps around me.
My husband, my heart, is still here.
