One of the last times I went home to visit Maui, I stayed at my grandma's house on Front St. She'd recently passed, but the house still smelled like her. My relationships with family have always been complicated--my stepdad actively hated me since day one, my mother was (on her best day) an unpredictable mess who liked telling people she didn't like me where I could hear it--but Barbara's house was always a safe space for the kids. She was a Hawaiian matriarch with the history of Maui displayed on her walls who put the parents on their best behavior. It was one of the few places where I could count on having regular meals and could just be a kid. Also, she had a massive library and I was a voracious reader. For awhile, we lived at her house. I finished 5th grade at Lahaina Elementary (later became King Kamehameha III) and spent most of 6th grade at Lahaina Intermediate before moving to Kihei (and then Kahului, and then, and then--the joke is that I spent at least 6 months at every elementary school on Maui).
Because the bus was crowded, I used to walk home from school every day--coming straight down Lahainaluna St and then walking down Front St. It was an hour long walk, give or take, in the hot, weird clothes my mother made me wear, but I loved every minute of it. I'd walk onto the property shouting "a hui hou!", have a snack, change clothes, and then take this big pool float out into the ocean for a couple hours (probably not smart, but nobody stopped me and I had a paddle).
I am grateful that I could take my wife and stepchild to this place and was given the opportunity to stay at tutu's with them one last time before the family did whatever they did with the property. I'm grateful that I could show them Lahaina and walk with them under the Banyan.
I'm not living inside this tragedy, seeing and smelling it every day, but I am grieving for the people who are. I am grieving for the people who are losing their people and who don’t know where people are yet. And I am grieving for the loss of place because the place itself is family. I think everyone who grew up inside Hawaiian culture feels this acutely.