North Star

38 | all my life

2011

Dad took every opportunity he could to tell us how proud he was to be surrounded by women—as strong as they were soft, and as confident as they were vulnerable. He didn't parade around his proximity to women like a badge of honor because he knew it would only serve to center himself under the spotlight instead of highlighting the very women he championed day in and day out, and he had also been a staunch supporter of women from before he started a family with one because that was how he was raised, so being an ally was something he recognized as the bare minimum. But I appreciated him for that.

Not every woman had that kind of father, and I knew I was lucky. As a woman, it wasn't always the easiest to find a man that made me feel safe to be around. Sure, I was only seventeen and had a lot of life to live through, but even now, I recognized the reality of what it meant to live as a woman in a patriarchal world. While being an ally and supporter for those who faced certain disadvantages in life was a bare minimum, that didn't mean I couldn't appreciate my father for the role he played in my life. He did his best to be the best father to his three daughters, and to make sure we felt comfortable, safe, and welcomed in this world. The values he instilled in me, as well as the sincere understanding of my worth and place in the world, were a result of my upbringing.

Even though I should have been working on my paper for class since it was due at the end of the week, I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. As someone who had known me my entire life, he never looked less like himself than he did then, yet I still recognized him as one of the people I felt closest to in the world.

I wasn't sure why tonight was so different. There wasn't anything special about it. Mom, Kanani, and Leimomi had all driven to the movies. I had almost gone with them, but not only was I tired from a particularly stressful day at school, I also had zero interest in seeing whatever movie they were watching. Something about a family who were supposedly descendants of Hawaiian royalty, except the entire cast was white. I had no doubt it was probably going to be a visually stunning film—anything set in Hawai'i was bound to be—but nothing appealed to me about stories set in Hawai'i that centered on white characters and actors.

Since Dad also decided he didn't want to go for many reasons, one of which was that he was too tired to sit through an entire movie nowadays, that also helped to settle my decision to stay home.

The night had mostly been quiet so far as he watched TV and I tried to do my homework after eating the dinner Mom made before they all left for the movies. Most of the food on both of our plates had been left untouched, but for different reasons. The less I thought about it, the better chance I had at not letting my mood plummet further than it already had.

I hated to admit how normal all of this had become. How easy it was to forget there was a time before it. I looked across the room at my father, slumped down on the couch that had become his favorite place to spend basically all day, every day since it gave him easy access to mindless entertainment, as well as not having to climb up the stairs. So many months had been spent actively trying to fight against his sickness being the norm that even thinking about it now felt as if I was being held at gunpoint by my own feelings.

Instead, I tried to remember what he looked like before. It should have been easier than it was because it hadn't even been a whole year since we were first informed he had cancer, but I sat there for a while trying to replace the image in front of me with something from my memory. A memory as familiar as the back of my hand, and yet now entirely foreign.

I thought about a fuller face and a richer color to his skin; clear signs he was eating healthy and to his heart's content, as well as a visible sign he was soaking up all that a Hawaiian sun had to offer. That was the man I had to remember, no matter what his illness turned him into.