You have yet to make a single decision, still every day of your existence has been recorded.  You have yet to think a single thought, still the thoughts towards and about you outnumber the grains of sand on all of the beaches of Hawaii and beyond.  You have yet to mess up or throw a hissy fit or draw a mustache on your brother’s portrait in the hallway, still every deed you will commit, for good and for bad, has already been covered by grace.

Now some people say that you have the life, the easy life, that things are so simple for you, and yet we know that you are wonderfully complex.  Truly, we are undone at the thought of you being put together; and though you sit in darkness right now, you bring light to our faces and joy to our lives.

You don’t actually have a heart; nevertheless, we love you with all of ours and look forward to meeting you soon.

Love, Aunty Malia.

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.”  –Helen Keller

Indeed, I felt it when I kissed boo-boos and cleaned out vomit bins.  I felt it when I lugged around campers’ miscellaneous items in my bag for the entire week.  I felt it when I pulled out my camera to take pictures and everyone made a big fuss but then wanted to see themselves afterward.  I felt it when my campers hung on me like a jungle gym, oblivious of the fact that I also bruise, bleed, and ache.  I felt it when I ate last at every meal, making sure everyone had enough to eat.  I felt it when I got excited over my girls getting excited about everything from catching a firefly to finishing a race to achieving goals big and small.  I felt it when I gave up sleep because they needed a hug and a hand to hold.  I felt it when I reassured my campers that their best was all that I expected and nothing more but nothing less.  I felt it when I watched some of them go directly against what they knew was right.  I felt it when I had to think of creative ways to discipline them.  I felt it when I walked with them through the aftermath of their consequences.  I felt it when I turned some of my campers back around to face the difficult thing because it was the right thing.  I felt it when I had to pursue those who continued to reject me.  I felt like you, Dad.

I felt like you, loving little me.

And I feel it now as I prop my feet up, take another sip of my coffee, loosen up my watch and continue to think about and thank God for my life, for your life, and for the 21 years that ours overlapped.  Truly, so much of me is made from what I learned from you.  

So thank you for teaching me and loving me well.  Stephen Wee, thank you for living well.  Your legacy lives on.