Lots of good talks with my papasan over the last two days. We talked about him growing up in Tokelau. We talked about mom. We talked about when he gets better and comes and stays with me in Hawaii. He told me he’s proud of me. He told me how much he loves my siblings and his grandkids. He told me he’s tired and if he leaves us soon, it’s okay and not to be sad. He told me he wants clam chowder for lunch tomorrow. He told me I should move to Tula and live in my grandma’s house.

He told me that it’s hard that my brother and I live so far away but he understands. “That’s life” he said. People have to do their own thing and he is supportive of what we are doing. That’s the thing that I appreciate the most about my pops. He’s old school; he’s old school AF. But, a long time ago he kind of untethered his wishes for what I do and how I lead my life from what an old school, blue collar, religious Tokelau and American Samoan born and raised guy envisioned from his kids. It’s not like I went all crazy and shit but at that guy’s core is for a son who is more church-going, a little more in tune with Samoan customs and a little more conservative. But, a long time ago, he decided that he was going to be proud and happy with whatever I did.

Tuesday afternoon, being 3,000 miles away and hearing the tone and message coming out of his mouth was hard. We aren’t done yet but it’s been two days and that guy is hanging in there and talking about the next five years of his life.

He wants me to go home on Sunday, no matter what’s going on with him. He doesn’t want me to miss anymore work. Of all the things pops taught me, it’s to get up and go to work. Every. Single. Day. That’s what he did forever. He had sick time, he could have stayed in once in awhile, but he didn’t, ever. Dude, would be sick as a freakin’ pack of dogs and go work in a machine shop that alternated between being too hot and too cold, every single day. No. Matter. What.

Since I stopped doing everything he told me to do, a few decades ago, we’ll see if I actually leave on Sunday. Such a disobedient son.

– DAVE