Fosi and Delia: "Will You Be My Girlfriend?"

In honor of our 22^nd wedding anniversary, a short story from the page of our relationship book. Based on true events, but subject to slightly romanticized hindsight.

“Delia, will you be my girlfriend?”.

There it was. The question that I knew had been forthcoming for some time now. I anticipated it for weeks now with both excitement and trepidation.  I mean, what did I expect? We’d been hanging out together almost daily since he returned from his California mission in March. And here it was, already May, and we were practically dating without it being official.

Not that I didn’t want it to happen.  I mean, it was Fosi. The boy I’d had a crush on between the ages of 13-16.  I’d written secret letters to him as a wide-eyed schoolgirl and dedicated songs to him on Krater 96 during the love song hour anonymously. I cried when he went out with the first girl (ok so I helped set them up when she professed her feelings for him to me, of all people), filled in at the last minute as his Junior prom date because she cancelled at the last minute. I negotiated his Senior Prom date with the haole girl in the ward that he fancied.  To add insult to injury, I agreed to attend his Senior prom as his friend’s date, the short Korean guy who owned a really nice car and who Fosi promised to find a date for so they could go to the prom in his car. When Fosi started dating the haole girl’s best friend, I figured it was time to start daydreaming about someone more attainable, and considerably more available.

But we continued to be friends, attending church activities, walking home together from the chapel, chilling with our ward crew and hanging out at my house because he happened to be my brother’s friend, too.  Sure we flirted with each other and there were a few times where we got a little too close for friendship but nothing ever happened.  The years went by and I saw him off at the airport when he left for his mission, wrote him some letters and moved on to give my heart to someone else. 

The day he flew home, we all went to meet him at the airport, only to find out that we had missed him. A short time later, we filed into his KPT apartment where his family was holding a welcome home dinner. There he was, still tall, dark and handsome. He was dressed in his church clothes and wearing his name tag which bore the name of “Elder Ulima”.  When he turned to look at me, our eyes met and I remember catching my breath as a big smile came across his face and he walked over to greet me. “You’ve grown up, Delia”, he said. “My, my, my, Elder, so have you”, I thought to myself. 

The two years he was absent from my life had been extremely kind to him. He had filled out nicely and spoke differently. He said things like “ma’am” and “pardon me” now and he talked about his mission and the people he had met and the things he had learned.  The boy who I had fallen for, the one who wore jams and muscle t-shirts and liked popping and playing basketball was replaced by a young man who was starting college soon and spoke of future plans. Needless to say, I found all of this incredibly attractive.

And here we were, two months later, sitting on the wall at Ala Moana Beach Park. The single adults from our ward were holding a moonlight picnic and as they laughed and ate on the beach, Fosi had asked if he could speak to me alone.  We walked off a little way and found a quiet spot on the wall under the dim light of the street lamp. When he grabbed my hands and held them in his, I knew what was about to happen. He proceeded to tell me how he felt about me and how he wanted to be with me. And then he asked me the question that I had longed to hear, dreamt about hearing, for. . .years. 

“Delia, will you be my girlfriend?”

He said it softly, holding my hands and my gaze firmly in his. I felt myself begin to shake, the kind that comes on when you’re really nervous, really excited or really scared.  I felt my eyes begin to sting and my nose tingle and I knew that I was about to start crying. I couldn’t lose it, not here, not now. But I had to tell him, he deserved an honest answer.

“Fosi, I can’t be your girlfriend. Not yet. I’m still in love with someone else.”

And that’s when the water works began. I had previously told Fosi about the other guy, the one who broke my heart and who I hadn’t been able to get over yet. In that moment, I cursed that person for entirely different reasons now-for having to hurt someone I loved, for not being ready to move on.

Fosi listened quietly, never loosening his grip on my hands. He reached up to wipe away the tears streaming down my face with one hand, took a breath and proceeded to speak.

“Delia, I will wait for you. But, I won’t wait forever. You let me know when you’re ready to be my girlfriend.” And with that, he kissed me on the forehead, stood up, helped me to my feet and led me back to our friends on the beach.

. . .TO BE CONTINUED. . .

A Place in the Middle

Disclaimer: The views expressed here are solely those of this blogger and do not necessarily represent the views of my family, church, friends or dogs, for that matter-just plain ‘ole me!  There’s enough material out there in the universe for you to read up on regarding both sides of the same-sex marriage issue. If you were hoping for an in-depth theological, legal or social debate here, I’m sorry to disappoint.

Over the last couple of weeks, our peaceful little island community has been rocked by one of the most controversial issues of our time.  When Governor Abercrombie pushed for a special session in the state legislature to consider SB 1, a bill that would legalize same-sex marriage in Hawaii, there was no way to foresee the public outcry, uproar and emotional rollercoaster that would ensue in the ‘Aloha’ state.  I could review the chronology of events-the bill’s introduction, the key players, the committee hearings, the floor votes, the rallies, the sign-waving, the press conferences. I could regurgitate some of the speeches given during the record-breaking 57 hours of live testimony (the inspiring, the ignorant and the incredulous).  I could talk about the articles written, the commercials aired, the accusations made and the threats uttered.  I could commend the enormous show of civic participation, the political dialogue generated and the interest peaked in everyday citizens of all ages and backgrounds to obtain knowledge about the legislative process and the workings of their government.  I could go on (and on) about the deluge of Facebook posts, comments, threads, links, videos, pictures and overnight scholars that emerged on this subject matter.

I could describe the sights and sounds of the last two weeks. The rainbow lei worn by SB 1 supporters and the dark blue shirts worn by those in opposition.  The signs held by kupuna and children, men and women from all walks of life, stating their bearer’s position: “Save Traditional Marriage”, “Let the People Choose”, “I Support Marriage Equality”, “Love not Hate”. The Hawaiian flag, the rainbow flag floating gently in the Hawaiian breeze. The pleas, the prayers, the proposals.  And always, always in the background, the raised voices of the masses chanting at the State Capitol for hours on end, “Let the People Vote”,  “Let the People Vote”!!!  

After all is said and done and the silence of relief or resignation ensues, the images and sounds of this moment in history will not so easily be erased.  

I could mention the rift that seems to have divided our community in two. Today, officials literally divided the sign-wavers and capitol audience in two, so as to be fair in representation and safe in temporary segregation.  There have been relationships between family members and friends that have been damaged and it has felt particularly 'icky' around here lately. I fear that these memories will live collectively within the people of Hawaii for many years to come and I pray for healing, understanding and compassion.

I confess: I’ve avoided the rallies, refused to watch most of the live testimony and steered clear of uncomfortable conversations in general (although I confess to camping on FB) because I’ve found much of the dialogue to be divisive, hurtful, unyielding in position and sometimes just ridiculous.  I was there many years ago when this was before the legislature and was so disappointed in the behavior of many back then that I vowed I wouldn’t go be in the front row as a witness, again. Unfortunately, this time, it was much worse than I could have imagined.

 I’ve been appalled at the vitriol that has been spewed forth in the name of the God and Savior that I worship and at the same time, I haven’t appreciated being categorized or written off as ‘sheep’ just because I choose to believe in them. I’ve witnessed the Native Hawaiian community grow farther apart and just as I support traditional practices and beliefs, I want to be respected as a Hawaiian with my own set of values and beliefs handed down to me from my kupuna.

For me, and I’m sure this can be said of many others, it has been an emotional and often confusing time.  Ever the analytic and true to my Libra tendencies, I’ve considered both sides of the coin.  I’ve heard the arguments, studied the issues, and discussed the matter with select family and close friends. I’ve considered the legal, cultural, societal and spiritual ramifications of same-sex marriage. Above all, I have relied on my foundation, my faith, and tried to check in constantly with my own spirit, or na’au ,to guide me.

I cannot and will not try to convince others to my point of view.  I am, however, open to respectful discussion.  What I can do is share the conclusions and commitments that I have personally reached as a result of this journey thus far.  I watched a great video today that talks about everyone having their own ‘closets to come out of’, so if this qualifies as one, here I go:

·      I claim the privilege of worshipping God and Jesus Christ, and I have a testimony of the truthfulness of the Gospel.  My beliefs are sacred to me and an integral part of who I am and how I live my life.

·      I honor the fact that other people do NOT share my beliefs and that they have their own values, beliefs and creeds that they live by that are sacred to them and they have a right to live their own truth.

·      I understand the difference between God’s laws and man’s laws.

·      I fully support each person’s right to participate in government processes (that includes testifying, telling their legislators off, holding signs, watching hours on end of live testimony on Channel 54 and responding to any and all Facebook posts relating to same-sex marriage).

·      I do NOT condone hate speech, violence, threats and outright ignorance (or those who are unwilling to even consider that there may be other viable positions that are contrary to their own).

·      I support the protection of religious freedom and religious exemptions that are available under the law, broad enough and clear enough for everyone to understand.

·      I support equality for all people.

As parents, this is what my husband and I have committed to do:

·      We will raise our son in our religion and try to live our values and beliefs the best we know how, knowing that he has free agency and will believe and live as he sees fit as an adult (yes, when he leaves my house, lol).

·      We have spoken with our son about tolerance, acceptance and compassion and the value of learning from those who do not share our beliefs or viewpoints.

·      We have been very clear with our son about bullying and what is NOT acceptable language anywhere (like “that’s so gay” and “faggot”).

·      We have had age-appropriate discussions with our son regarding homosexuality, stereotypes surrounding the LGBT community, SB 1 and same-sex marriage, in general.

·      We will raise our son to embrace people from all walks of life. That includes hanging out with gay friends and family members and yes, attending their fabulous weddings, should they be kind enough to invite us.

·      We will do our very best to lead by example and to teach our son to not be afraid of what he doesn’t know, to seek to understand and to LOVE and RESPECT others. . .

I don’t know if I’ll be accepted as someone who can simply see and accept both sides of this issue. I'll be the first to admit that there's so much I don't know or understand and there are things I am sure about.  If I went to the Capitol today, I wouldn’t know which side of the ‘line’ to stand on. You probably wouldn’t find me wearing a rainbow lei, per se, or even chanting, “Let the People Vote”. You’d be more likely to find me here and there, talking story, giving hugs, handing out cookies, holding up a homemade sign that reads, “Aloha Kekahi I Kekahi-Love One Another”, while supporting religious freedom AND the right to love and be treated equally. So for now, a place in the middle will just have to do.

24 Hours

Sept. 22, 2008: I hadn't seen her for months. We'd spoken on the phone, but not as often as we used to. We lived one block away from one another. She was my best friend since I was a teenager, my former roommate and maid of honor, keeper of my secrets and the one who always had my back.  Marriage, motherhood, school and career had kept me busy and her life had taken a turn towards illness in the last few years. She was home bound now and although our lives had grown in different directions, that we loved and cared for one another was an unspoken known.  I had the nagging feeling for weeks that I should visit. I told Hubby that I wanted to see her and we took Sonny, some of her favorite foods and a spiritual message and went to spend an evening with her. It was both wonderful and painful to see her-she didn't look well. We caught up, ate, laughed and gossiped-things we did so well together. Hubby shared the message and she broke down and for the first time, expressed how sad she was, how hopeless she felt and how she felt the message he shared was just for her. I promised we'd work together to find solutions for her, we hugged and as I stood at her bedroom door, I turned back and told her, "I love you, Feala." and she replied, "I love you, too." That was the last time we spoke. 24 hours later, I received a phone call that she was rushed to the hospital and was currently in a coma, 48 hours later we pulled the plug and we buried my best friend 2 weeks later.

November 10, 2009: It was 8am. I was in a rush to get to work. I had only worked at the company for two months and didn't want to be late. I hurried to make my mother a bowl of cereal, Honey Bunches of Oats, as I recall.  She sat in her room, holding her leg which was aching, always a concern for a diabetic person on dialysis. I asked if she needed to go to the doctor to get it checked out and she assured me that my sister, who was on her way to be with her today, would take her. I hesitated at her bedroom door, turned to look at my mother and told her to call me if she needed anything. That was the last time I had a coherent conversation with her. Three hours later, my sister called to tell me she was rushed by ambulance to Kaiser and to come right away.  By 3pm, my mother had passed away. Shocked and overcome by sorrow, our family spent the next few hours sitting, talking, singing and praying by her bedside until they told us they had to take her body away. 24 hours later, I sat in her empty bedroom, wondering what had happened and of all the thoughts that flooded my weary and saddened mind, I couldn't help but be disturbed by the fact that her last meal was cereal.

February 15, 2011: Kahuku Song Fest. Na Wai had agreed to be 'celebrity' judges (I guess they were desperate, lol). After a night of amazing performances, great music, entertainment and hard work by so many talented North Shore teenagers, we greeted friends, congratulated the kids and took pictures with people. I greeted my brother-in-law, Jr., and his family. His daughter performed with the Juniors and his son with the winning Sophomores. Ever the analyst, he asked me what criteria we used as judges to determine the winner. I laughed and promised him that I didn't cheat just to ensure his son's win. We took pictures with the kids and he was, in his usual quiet and unobtrusive way, proudly standing by. I made a mental note that he didn't look well and chalked it up to long days at work, the normal stresses of life and a pending flu or cold. Early the next morning, I awoke to the sound of my husband crying. . .Jr. had a sudden heart attack while playing basketball and was gone.  24 hours later, we sat in his house, surrounded by family and community-shocked and devastated at our loss.

24 hours. . .24 hours. It's amazing how life can change so drastically in one day. You find yourself wishing, begging, negotiating for those hours back. You shake your head and wonder why most days in our lives fly by uneventfully and why this had to happen today of all days.  It makes you think about your own life, no one is guaranteed 24 hours or 24 minutes. What would we do if we knew we only had 24 hours left to live? Why don't we do that now?

What would I have done if I had known when I last saw Feala and Mom and Jr. that it was really the last time.  I would have said thank you for all you've contributed to my life, I love you, I'll miss you, don't go. . .there would have been hugs and kisses and tears and good-byes. Why then, why then don't I live my life like there's only 24 hours left? Who can I, no who must I do and say these things to NOW. . .what about you?