On the flight, I remembered the competitive "Mathlete" that I loved – Chrys would crack open the laptop and pull out his nearly perfected spreadsheet for the “Halfway to Hawaii” competition. A passenger of the flight could win a bottle of wine if he or she could pick the closest time (to the second) of when the plane passed over the geographical mid-point between San Francisco and Hawaii. The pilot gives the passengers just enough data (speed, headwind, time of departure, etc.) to make an educated guess, but they never give enough data for an exact calculation. For years, Chrys gathered the data from all his previous trips, and created a spreadsheet and regression analysis that would give him the best range of times to choose from. On one trip, Chrys told me to pick a number between 1 and 30 (he already calculated the time down to the minute, and he wanted me to guess the seconds). I picked the number 43 – just to be difficult. Chrys jokingly pouted and scowled at me for a second, then wrote down the calculated time on my card (ending in 43 seconds). On his card he wrote the same hours and minutes, but with the guess of 23 seconds. We turned in our cards and waited for the results. My card won... No matter how much I insisted that HE had actually won due to HIS own calculations, Chrys refused to recognize my winning number for what it was – his hard work, and my dumb luck. Instead, Chrys just beamed with pride as they presented me with a bottle of wine (and he even congratulated me for trusting my “instincts” by guessing a number outside of the range of choices he presented). Chrys always had a way of making you feel special – even if you didn't quite deserve it...

I’ve never been to Hawaii without Chrys, so everything I saw reminded me of him. Exiting the plane, I saw the bar (Stinger Ray’s) where Chrys would sip on his “Tropical Itch” drinks… Every time he went to Hawaii, Chrys would save the bamboo backscratcher that came with the drink… Only in the last couple years did he start labeling them with the date of the trip. On my way home, I was sure to continue the tradition… I now have a backscratcher labeled “Maui 2007” hanging next to the five other - nearly identical – backscratchers above our refrigerator.

Our trips to Hawaii were filled with traditions… First there’s the obligatory liquor (oh, and food) run to Safeway, where we would acquire all the ingredients for a proper tropical cocktail (including pineapples and paper umbrellas). I nearly had my first breakdown in Safeway when I couldn’t find any type of umbrella or cocktail decorations… I wanted to make this trip a close to perfect for Kent, Eric & Jack as Chrys would always make it for me, Andy & Vicki. I then decided that, this being a somber weekend, pineapple wedges and bendy straws would just have to do… Though, I continued to search for some sort of cocktail decorations at every liquor, grocery or ABC store that we came across the entire weekend. Safeway didn't have any cocktail decorations, but fortunately they did have a Yahrtzeit candle.

The next tradition that Chrys would try to observe is to “Never Miss a Sunset”. We would always try to be at the beach (or at least outside facing west) with a cocktail in hand for each and every sunset. The only time I remember Chrys missing a sunset in Hawaii was when we made the hike to Waimoku Falls (near Hana – on the east side of the island). He was fretting about missing the sunset at first, but afterwards Chrys raved that the hike was SO worth it – (more about that coming up).

So after I made a Safeway run and got set up in the condo, I mixed myself a single cocktail and walked down to the beach for the first sunset of the trip. I really didn’t feel like drinking, nor did I want to watch a sunset alone – a sunset in Hawaii would never be the same without Chrys by my side. When I got to the beach I turned on some Hawaiian music on my headphones and stared out to the cloudy sky. Then I remembered Chrys’s favorite phrase at sunset in Hawaii– (how could I forget it!) – I could almost feel Chrys leaning in to me and whispering: “Cue the Whales”. As if by magic, every time he would say that, whales would breach, splash, or blow a spray from their blowhole off in the horizon. And this sunset was no exception. In fact, I’ve never seen a whale breach so high in my entire life. With rays of sun cutting lines through a partly cloudy sky as a backdrop, I saw a whale breach so high, that at least 75% of her body was out of the water before she belly flopped sideways. It was truly more spectacular than any postcard or nature show on TV has ever captured. I just wish I had my camera ready. It felt like a “sign” from Chrys – the first of many during this trip.

A Side Note about Feelings, Memories & “Signs”

I wanted to “feel” Chrys during the entire trip -- much like I feel he’s “with me” in my thoughts every day. I’m not a religious nor a spiritual person, so I don’t expect to get communications or “signs” from the afterlife. Instead, I always think about “what would Chrys say” or “how would Chrys react” to this or that – it gives me comfort that I know Chrys so well, that I can continue to feel him and love him as time goes on - as if here were still here. I know which performers on American Idol would cause him to tear up, what movies he would have enjoyed, and how he would react to certain life events…

For example, when I was saying goodbye to Chrys in the hospital, I promised him over and over that I would make him proud. Every time I go to the gym, I think about the day seven years ago before we were dating (during one of my previous “get fit” kicks) when Chrys “noticed” me again for the first time – he commented on how I was looking good, squeezed my bicep and gave me a flirtatious “Well, Well, Well - Look at You!” smirk. The memory of that smile keeps me motivated at the gym – much like the rest of my “What Would Chrys Say” thoughts keep me motivated through the rest of my life. Now that I’ve lost 80 pounds, I appreciate the “you’re looking great comments” from friends and family, but it the “Chrys would be so proud!” comments that are most meaningful...

Now, as someone who doesn’t believe in “signs” from an afterlife, I must say that my faith (or lack thereof) was tested during this trip. Because I lost track of how many times I got goose bumps and shivers each time I experienced what felt like a “sign” from Chrys during this trip.

After sunset and dinner, I picked up the rest of the gang at the airport… Thanks to his Wikipedia-esque knowledge of the airline industry, Kent was able to get the boys a new, direct, flight to Maui after their earlier, non-direct, flight got canceled… You rock, Kent!

The next morning we headed to Lahaina to shop, eat lunch, whale watch, and schedule a snorkeling trip. We ate lunch at Lahaina Fish Co. – and I got treated to a couple other happy Wurm memories… Our table got visited by what Chrys dubbed “French Fry Birds”. When Chrys and I were at the same restaurant a couple years ago, this one bird sat and stared at us for the longest time with a giant French fry hanging from it’s beak. After lunch, Chrys and I drove 20 miles back to our condo in Kihei. When we pulled out of the parking lot, Chrys noticed a praying mantis holding on to the windshield of our car. Chrys started rooting and cheering for the praying mantis, “Hang on Buddy!”, “almost there!”. Even when we drove at close to 40 miles per hour, the praying mantis held on tight! It was one of the most enjoyable drives of my life – listening to Chrys giggle and cheer with glee the entire time. When we got to the condo, Chrys carefully lifted the giant bug off the car and placed him on a nearby tree. When we went inside the condo, Chrys noticed more “French fry birds” -sans French fries- bouncing around on our deck. Chrys proclaimed “Yay! The French fry birds followed us home too! Yay!” I had vividly remembered the praying mantis (I even got Chrys a crystal praying mantis from Maui Crystal for his birthday a few months later), but I had forgotten about the French Fry birds. The little brown bird sitting next to our table was a great reminder of happier times.

When I went whale watching for the first time about 4 years ago with Chrys, Andy and Vicki, I thought to myself – “don’t get your hopes up – just be happy to have a lovely day out on a boat – if we get to see a whale, it will be a nice treat, but don’t expect them to come right up to the boat.” Boy was I wrong! Chrys and I both got splashed with blow-hole spray when a whale splashed around our boat. It was awesome! Well, I didn’t want to get my hopes up again with Kent, Eric, and Jack. But, once again, the whales did not disappoint! One whale kept swimming back and forth under our boat and would pop up to entertain the crowd over and over again… More happy memories… Another sign from Chrys…

Of course, we didn’t miss the sunset.

On Saturday, February 3 – the one year anniversary of Chrys’ death, I knew that I either had to zone out in order to make it through the day or completely focus on some random task. Then it hit me… a day at Big Beach. Chrys loved a day-long trip to Big Beach, and I liked to make sand-sculptures at the beach while everyone frolicked and played in the water. When he saw my first sand sculptures, Chrys was so excited that he got me sculpting lessons for my birthday – he was always so thoughtful! I figured that making a sand sculpture would occupy my mind on that difficult day – which it did. But it also brought back memories of Chrys standing next to me and complementing me, encouraging me, taking pictures, and laughing hysterically when I added a jumbo sized penis to a sculpture. So as Kent, Eric and Jack boogie boarded, swam, and lounged in the sun, I worked on my sculpture “Two Naked Boys Cuddling”. Although Chrys and I were usually wearing our work clothes (rather than our birthday suits), this was the “cuddle position” that Chrys and I would take when either of us would declare “cuddle time” after a hard day at the office. Also, we’d usually be petting a couple schnauzers (but I figured that rugby shirts, khaki pants and schnauzers would be too difficult – and weird – to incorporate into the sculpture.

As sunset approached, we hopped into the car and headed back to Kamaole III Beach (across the street from our condo) and Kent mixed cocktails for the group. They were strong. Very Strong. They were “Chrys would have been happy” strong! I was on the phone with Lisa as I took my first few sips. Within a few minutes, Lisa noticed that I was already getting tipsy… After sunset, Kent, Eric, Jack and I waded out into the water with a bag of Chrys’s cremated remains. We each took turns saying a few words about Chrys and poured some of the ashes into the ocean. It was beautiful. And Chrys would have gotten a kick out of the fact that we were all tipsy from our sunset cocktails – Yay Kent.

The next morning we went snorkeling at Molokini Crater. It was a fun day out. The tour “conveniently” started and ended at the Pacific Whale Foundation gift shop. A few years earlier, Vicki went crazy over a cute (and way overpriced) stuffed turtle at the same gift shop. Andy later made a special trip back to the shop to pick up the turtle as a Christmas gift for her. It was like a sitcom watching Chrys and Andy trying to hide the turtle from Vicki before Christmas. Vicki kept asking “What’s in the Box?” about 1000 times over a 2 day period and she searched the condo relentlessly trying to find the gift. Well, much like the turtle, I fell in love with a giant cute (and way overpriced) stuffed humpback whale at the same gift shop. After hours of rationalization and a little internet research to confirm that the Pacific Whale Foundation is a real non-profit organization, I made a special trip back to get the stuffed whale for myself.

After snorkeling, we walked around Iao Valley state park and then drove back to the condo to get some pool lounging time in before sunset. The pool brought up a number of memories (good and bad).

The last time I went to Maui with Chrys, we stayed at the same resort – Maui Kamaole. In fact, the condo Chrys and I stayed at was just 2 doors down from where we were staying this time. Near the end of our stay, Chrys was excited to discover a second swimming pool at the resort (complete with a cheesy fake waterfall – the waterfall drowns out the sounds of kids screaming). Chrys and I hung out the pool together thinking that we had 2 more beautiful days together in heaven. But that night, I got a frantic call from my mother. My dad had gotten in a motorcycle accident and they weren’t sure if he was going to make it through the night (fortunately he recovered remarkably well). I left on the next flight out and Chrys stayed behind for the last couple days to pack up the rest of our stuff and to try to enjoy whatever time he had left in Hawaii. Who could have guessed that it was the last time we would be in Hawaii together, and that he would spend his last 2 days there alone? Chrys tried to make the best of it – he took a bunch of pictures of himself making drinks, and toasting the sunset (even though he spent most of his time calling me over and over to make sure everything was ok).

As I sat and watched the fake waterfall at the pool, I realized that I too would be spending my last 2 days in Maui alone (the boys were flying out early Monday morning, and I was flying out late Tuesday night). As I dropped my friends off at the airport the next morning and said goodbye, I was genuinely happy to have another two days to lounge in Maui – but I soon realized how difficult it is to be in paradise and not have anyone to share the experience with. It felt like a kick in the stomach. I can only imagine how hard it was for Chrys worrying about me and my family when he was stuck in Maui two years earlier…

But I made the best of it – and here’s when I really started to feel Chrys’ presence….

After dropping the boys off at the Airport, I stopped to pick up the stuffed whale, and then went back to Big Beach for the afternoon. At sunset, I saw a group of 4 whales swimming together – like synchronized swimming - they even sprayed their blow-holes at the same time - awesome.

That night I packed up and prepared for a road trip.

Originally, I had planned to scatter all of the ashes with my friends at sunset on the one year anniversary. But the evening before, I changed my mind. We scattered about half of the ashes at the beach, but I saved the rest for Waimoku Falls (near Hana).

On our last trip to Maui, Chrys and I took the 4 hour winding drive to the Seven Sacred Pools past Hana. We had read that there was a beautiful hike up along the Pipiwai Stream to the largest waterfall in Maui, Waimoku Falls, but I still had a bad knee and had not completely recovered from my second knee surgery, so I wasn’t sure how far I could make along the 2.5 mile uphill path. Well, the absolute breath-taking beauty of the hike made the knee pain seem minor (and walking uphill is always easier on my knee than going downhill), so Chrys and I made it all the way to the waterfall. We were both blown away by the view. On the way down, my knee had totally given out. Chrys and I were covered in mud up to our knees, and with every steep step downward, I had to wrap my arms around his neck (quasi-piggy-back style) and lower myself down sloooowly. It took us twice as long to get back down the hill, but Chrys and I were ranting and raving about how we have never seen such a beautiful place on Earth! The entire trip back, Chrys and I were dumbfounded with the beauty we experienced. I remember commenting that I finally understood people who hike – as long as all hikes end with a 400 foot waterfall, that is.

On my last day at the condo, I packed up, checked out, but I stopped by the condo two doors down where Chrys and I stayed on our previous trip. I figured that with two days alone, Chrys certainly would have taken the time to sign the guest book (after I left early due to my dad’s accident). Fortunately, a kind older man was there. When I explained why I wanted to take a quick look at the guest book he invited me in and informed me that he recently lost his grandson to Leukemia – what a small, and unfair world.

As if I needed any clearer sign that I was doing the right thing by taking some of Chrys’s ashes to the waterfall, I got it. In the guestbook, Chrys wrote “Hiking the Pipiwai Trail was the most amazing, magical experience of my life. Wow!”

The word “magical” resonated with me. The entire road trip to Hana and the entire hike came to life, magically. I could hear and feel Chrys the entire time. I stopped by the cliff-side lookout where Chrys and I had a picnic in the pouring rain. It was one of those poignant memories that never leave. We were carefree, getting soaked in the rain and it didn’t bother us because we were so happy and so in love and completely soaked to the core. While it didn’t rain this time around, I think enough tears rolled down my face to soak the stone picnic table we sat at two years prior. As I passed the “garden of Eden” (a tourist trap, but nice garden), I saw peacocks and was reminded of how they chased our car the last time we were there.

When I got to the park, I was the memories and emotions kept coming. I could remember almost every photo stop along the way (not just due to the strong memories of that magical day we spent together, but also due to the hours I’ve spent staring at pictures we took together). The sad realization hit me that, rather than leaning on Chrys the entire hike this time around, I was carrying him in a satin covered box.

The first part of the hike is very “enchanted forest” – the ground is rippled with a network of interwoven tree roots, to the right, there is a cliff with pool after pool fed by crashing waterfalls, and there is one of the most amazing banyan trees I’ve ever seen.

After a while, you arrive to a grassy field. Last time we were here, Chrys and I saw (and were less than 5 feet away from) two cows grazing. It seemed like such a strange place for cattle! After the grassy field you come to almost a mile long trail of bamboo forest. The trail through the bamboo starts out wide and narrows as you go up. Even in the middle of the day, the bamboo is so densely packed in that it looks like nightfall. Chrys and I both took separate “tinkle-breaks” in the bamboo forest and we had to holler “Marco!”, “Polo!” to find our way back to the path. Once you get through the bamboo, you get your first glimpse of the waterfall.

And, once again, I got a magical sign from above… Of the 400+ songs shuffling on my iPod, “Somewhere over the Rainbow/What a wonderful World” by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole started playing just before I got within sight of the waterfall (this is one of the last songs that I played for Chrys in the hospital, and one of the songs that I included in his memorial video).

I walked up the side of a hill and had a beer in honor of Chrys.


Some friendly hippies offered to take my picture. After they found out what was in the box, they decided to give me some privacy. I don’t know if it was “magic”, coincidence, or if the friendly hippies had something to do with it, but as I approached the base of the waterfall, the 20+ people who were hanging out and taking pictures all left at about the same time. I suddenly found myself alone, with Chrys’s remains in the most magical, beautiful place on Earth.

There’s no way to describe what happened next without sounding cheesy or overly dramatic. And yet, no matter how elaborately I describe it, nothing can do justice how overwhelming the experience was. I don’t know exactly what I was expecting – but when I scattered ashes at the Great Wall, they didn’t exactly “scatter”, and when we scattered ashes at sunset, it was too dark to see the effect in the water, but this time was different – it was magical. I started pouring the ashes in the water and immediately, I could see a water undergo a dramatic color change to a milky-white – duh, I know, not exactly magic. But the way the color slowly expanded and lingered in the water. For almost 10 minutes could see the water all around me change – even down stream – even as the water snaked down some rocks and down a couple “mini falls” I could see Chrys all around me. I had felt Chrys around me the entire time, but to physically see him around me (for as far as the eye could see) was “amazing” and “magical” and overwhelming. I sat bawling for a while until I noticed the water was starting to get clearer, so I started a semi-frantic chase down the trail to see if I could catch a glimpse of Chrys as he moved downstream. Of course I continued to see him everywhere from that point on, but I’m sure the water was probably getting far too clear for a rational, objective person to see it. But then I was no longer a rational, objective person. I had witnessed too many “signs” and seen too much magic to ever let Chrys go.

To see more pictures from the Maui 2007 trip, click here.

Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. We anticipate
(we know) that someone close to us could die, but we do not look beyond the few
days or weeks that immediately follow such an imagined death. We misconstrue the
nature of even those few days or weeks. We might expect if the death is sudden
to feel shock. We do not expect this shock to be obliterative, dislocating to
both body and mind. We might expect that we will be prostrate, inconsolable,
crazy with loss. We do not expect to be literally crazy, cool customers who believe
that their husband is about to return and need his shoes. In the version of
grief we imagine, the model will be "healing." A certain forward movement will
prevail. The worst days will be the earliest days We imagine that the moment to
most severely test us will be the funeral, after which this hypothetical healing
will take place. When we anticipate the funeral we wonder about failing to "get
through it," rise to the occasion, exhibit the "strength" that invariably gets
mentioned as the correct response to death. We anticipate needing to steel
ourselves for the moment: will I be able to greet people, will I be able to
leave the scene, will I be able to even get dressed that day? We have no way of
knowing that this will not be the issue. We have no way of knowing that the
funeral itself will be anodyne, a kind of narcotic regression in which we are
wrapped in the care of others and the gravity and meaning of the occasion. Nor can we know ahead of the fact (and here lies the heart of the difference between grief as we imagine it and grief as it is) the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of
meaningless itself.