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This sure is turning out to be a big week of memories.
Seven years ago today I was sitting on the set at CNN anchoring breaking news coverage when the second plane hit the World Trade Center.
What was that like? Well, from a news anchor perspective, it's the kind of story you go to work for. No, not that you hope bad things are going to happen. It's more like, if they do, you want to be the one to tell the world.
It certainly didn't get much bigger than a day like 9/11. I remember it as a split-brain experince. On one side, I was focused on doing a good job with this breaking news. On the other, I knew my little sister, Kallan, had just moved to New York and was living not too far from all the destruction.
Every time I handed the coverage off to my then co-anchor, Leon Harris, I frantically tried to track down my sister. I knew I raised her well. Indeed, somehow in the chaos, she managed to get word to me that she was okay. Our family got the good news that day that so many did not.
Fast forward 6 years and one day. September 12, 2007. That's the day my mom called to tell me my dad had died. That's how I find myself in Hawaii on the 9/11 anniversary. I came here to honor my dad's final wish, to have his ashes scattered in Hawaii.
If you want to hear the kind of wild story of how this trip came together, then read my last blog entry, if you haven't already.
If you are up to speed, then I can share that my mission has been accomplished. Stu is at peace now in the waters between Oahu and Maui.
We had quite the day, Stu and I, did on Tuesday. My original thought was to release his ashes into the waters in front of the hotel. But when I looked at the ocean there, I just wasn't feeling it. That's okay. I knew what we had to do.
Road Trip!
I strapped Stu in the front seat of the rental car and we took off on a "beach shopping" adventure. Obviously, there are plenty to choose from in Hawaii. Still, it had to be just right. Many were pretty, but one had too many boats, one was too rough, one didn't have enough sand. No problem. It just meant we had to keep moving onto the next beautiful stretch of coastline.
When we got to the one with the riptides and heavy surf, I decided to ask an expert. I intercepted a cutie lifeguard before he was about to go surfing. I explained that I needed a beach to facing a certain direction with tides leading out to sea, but no riptides that would lead to my own memorial service. (After all, that would pretty much put a damper on this holy mission.)
His eyes lit up and he said he knew just the place. Told me to keep driving up over the hill and I would see just what I was looking for.
Clearly, this local lifeguard knew what he was talking about because I knew as soon as I came over the rise that this was the place. I think you'll see by the photo below how I knew.
Not that there weren't some challenges. There were still some strong tides that would keep me from going all the way in the water. Then there was the matter of the sign warning of an overabundance of stinging Portuguese Man of War jellyfish in the area.
I decided I would respect the tides by just going in up to my knees and told the jellyfish they would just have to give me and Stu a little space to do what we needed to do. Much gratitude to the jellies who did just that.
Then, it was time to say my prayers and blessing for my father. There were tears that had not come at his memorial service last year. And there was powerful inner force and release in turning him over.
As the waves and tide grabbed his ashes like a powerful hug, I pictured him taken into a loving and healing embrace. Something much greater than anything he was able to find in his lifetime.
And so my mission is complete. Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of his passing. In some ways, it feels longer ago. In some ways it feels like he never left.
When I get on the plane tomorrow, I do so knowing I did right by Stu. His ashes rest in the warm waters of the Pacific where he found much joy. My damp swimsuit is packed in my suitcase. My best memories of my Dad are packed in my heart.
Aloha, Stu. May your journey now bring you only love, peace, and healing. I know a piece of me was healed in this trip we taken together.
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