1 Year Later

Each year we go through the motions of living without hearing your voice, laughter, jokes, pranks, and conversations. The pain of each milestone including the 100 nights after your funeral, the Holidays, your Birthday, the beginning and end of the school semesters, father and mother’s day brought bittersweet memories of the times we spent with you. Summertime not only marks the beginning of a new season but learning to make new memories and living a new normal without you.

The following letter was written by Maasai’s mother Ana 1 year later, on June 14, 2019.

This week marks the first year since you have left us and I woke up feeling grateful to have listened to your aunties to help dress you for your wake and funeral. I was blessed to have had the strength to go through the motions of dressing you and to perform this final act as your mother. I will always love you! #maasaijones

To dress you for the very last time was the hardest undertaking in my life. I had been avoiding your aunties queries to make arrangements with the funeral home to change your clothes ourselves in preparation for your wake and funeral. Fleeting thoughts of why or how could I dress you when it was just too painful discussing your burial plot and coffin without even having to touch or see you.

One of the first things your aunties Jean, Maina, Leua, and Keresi said was to order or buy your clothes. New clothes to send you off on your journey. New shoes to wear so you will be comfortable. My first thoughts were you would have said “mom there’s probably something in the suitcase” you brought home from New York. Apparently you left your formal clothes in your bags back east because all we found were shorts and T-shirt’s. Your Nau and aunties suggested all white and we found the most beautiful Hawaiian long sleeve shirt with leaf patterns and white pants. I thought the socks would be enough for the occasion but was told you needed matching white shoes. I jokingly said “you know this kid is going to take off his shoes and forget where he left them” he will certainly lose his shoes the first chance he got.

We arrived early at the funeral home and waited for your aunts and cousins. At the appointed time someone explained that there was a room assigned to us to make our last preparations for you. When the escort opened the door I looked at the beautiful light sconces and got my first glimpse of you lying so peacefully on the table covered in a white sheet to your neck. It seemed as though you were asleep. The reality that you would never wake up, stand up and smile at me was paralyzing and I walked the few feet sobbing with pain to the table. I stood at your side and flashed through the milestones of your life and how you had grown into a handsome young man who had so much to offer, leaving us so soon and so abruptly. I touched your arm through the sheets and thought I’d warm you up because it seemed so cold. I rubbed your arms and legs gently and ended at your feet which were bare.

Thinking back on how I had massaged these same arms, legs, and feet as a baby and later after tournaments and training sessions at gymnastics. Initially, the thought of touching or dressing you was too painful, and I was going to let your aunties and Nau do it for me. But as I felt your feet and the neatly trimmed toenails I vowed to dress you myself. I brought you into this world and dressed you in one of your first outfits, and I will dress you in your very last outfit in preparation for your journey after this world.

What was only supposed to take an hour turned into 4 hours because we waited for your two aunties who were still caught up at the hair salon. Between tears, prayers, hymns, and stories of your escapades and jokes we huddled around you. At one point it was only aunty Maina and I standing across from each other and the table seemed to move or shifted suddenly. From her teary eyed prayer stance she asked “what was that?” I replied it’s Maasai he is about to make one of his gymnastics back-flips. You know she was more alarmed at the thought of you standing up from the table, and I knew it was going to be your very last prank if you did it. When your two aunties finally arrived I said “Maasai, I don’t think you will recognize your aunties with their new do’s and coloring, but they’re at their best today”. As we unpacked your clothing from the bag, aunty Jean said we would start with the undergarments. Between tears and songs your aunties and grandmother circled you as we lovingly began the ritual of dressing you.

With the sheets still covering your body we gently fitted arms, legs, and torso into the pants and shirt. At some point it was difficult to get your arm into your shirt and we had to lift you sideways. As I held your arms and hugged you to my chest I was surprised to feel your muscles, and thought how you had spent hours training most of your life and had the well contoured muscles and six pack ribs of an elite athlete. When it came to the socks I asked if I could put them on. I rubbed your feet first and knelt crying as I remembered the many mismatched pairs I had given up looking for at the start of every school year. How you preferred tube like socks as opposed to the calf length ones of your brother. For this occasion we bought a pair of calf length ones to keep your feet warm. When I slipped the first sock on and straightened the top I prayed that you would always be safe and that you will be protected. As I unrolled the second one I stopped midway and could not put them on your feet because I realized this was the very last time I would dress you, that I would think of another sock for you. With your aunties help we all held your feet and slipped the last sock and your white shoes on sobbing and hugging each other. Your cousins and brother later made it into the room and we stood in a circle holding hands and with more songs and prayer we each said our goodbyes. I am grateful and glad that your aunties and grandmother insisted we dress you. It was the last physical act that brought us some closure and it was a great honor and privilege to dress you for the very last time.