In crisis, gather the generations. Figure out how to be in two places at once. Rearrange schedules. Book flights and hotels. Figure it out. Make it happen. You don’t get the time back. You don’t get the people back. Share meals and memories. Take turns at the hospital. Handle errands. Reflect and reminisce. Presence is the priority. Thank the doctors and nurses. Elders whispering prayers across a range of faiths and traditions. Laugh, in an excess of sorry and a demonstration of solidarity. Show up. Be there. Stay here. Know when to leave. Know when to come back. Make it work. Control what you can, because the rest is not up to you.
To Unfold into a receptacle for holding joy, entrust your tender heart to another. Look. We are more than our scars. We hold the memory of trauma in our roots. And still, here is a moment of pure joy. See how our chests shake the air with a trust manifested from generations of resilience? Reach for each other. Embrace. Grow flowers with your lungs.
— from Imaginary Photo Album or, When We Die, Our Polaroids Speak to Our Living Descendants by Lisa Jarrett, Lehua M. Taitano and Jocelyn Kapumealani Ng