Tributes and Trialations

In Loving Memory of Donald Takayama 1943-2012

My best friend's father passed away suddenly last week. If you are a nurse like me, you give a great big sigh of relief that he died quickly and suffered very little. His daughter is my very best friend and she was faced with end of life choices in what seemed like an instant.
Ever go to a party and play that game "what would you do if....?" We used to play it all the time. What would you do if you had to choose between a life of suffering or a quick death? What would you do if you had to choose between your children? Door number 1 or Door number 2? What would you do if you were told you had Cancer? That you had six months to live? Everybody has an interesting answer.  It's a fun game because it's hypothetical. There are no consequences. At the end, you get to go get another beer and thank your lucky stars that your particular scenario would NEVER happen and then you dig in to the seven-layer dip. Until you hit forty. Then all of those frightening scenarios start unfolding for you or your friends long after you've forgotten the brilliant answers. My friend had to choose whether or not to extend her father's dwindling life in a moment. No warm-up. Nobody went before her. All of a sudden a doctor presented her with options and that she needed to decide fairly quickly. Of course, she and her family made the right choice.
This week, I attended his service. It was a beautiful tribute to a man who gave so much that it left him with very little, financially. However, what he gave, he received back in community and spirit. Admittedly, I had resented him at times for not being there more for his daughters. He adored them but his involvement was sporadic. He was an adorable man and he loved me as much as he loved everyone. He was pure of heart and soul, but secretly, I wanted him to give an exclusive to my best friend. I had my own daddy issues so I knew the challenges of growing up without a father. Here was this highly successful man, devoted to his craft, and widely known for his kindness but refused to give his own daughters the exclusive. I learned at his memorial that it wasn't that he didn't give his daughters the exclusive. He gave EVERYONE the exclusive. He was genuine to all of his friends and family and he spread himself out so thin, that ultimately, he was always surrounded by family.
There were a number of speakers at his memorial and it was so very moving to see why he had been involved with his children only intermittently. He had communities of young kids that he taught to surf, that he sponsored and supported, and that went on to be World Champions and propel the sport of surfing into the next millenium. He gave his heart, his time, his money, his life to sharing his passion with others. In return, all of those people surrounded him with love and came together to speak on his behalf. Surfing legends came from miles around to pay tribute to him. Members of his community gave up a Saturday to spend time saying goodbye. During the ceremony,  even a hummingbird hovered in front of the podium and drank nectar from a Bird of Paradise as if it were his spirit, eavesdropping on his own funeral. There must have been a couple of hundred people who paddled out in freezing cold temperatures and choppy waves to form a circle in which they all threw flowers and cheered his name. I was moved by the number of people he had touched and comforted, and by the fact that my best friend and her sister would always be surrounded by the community of love that he created. That is their inheritance and one to be cherished. It is a unique and special legacy that he leaves behind, unlike the "regular" dads who put in their time on a daily basis.
RIP DT. Thank you for giving me my very best friend, for being the very best dad you could be, and for teaching me that living your life and loving your children can be done in very different ways.