The Day Uncle Nick Died

My Uncle Nick was 96 years old and still a feisty, energetic man up until the day he died.  His death did not come gently, nor did it come quietly. It closed down two lanes of Haleakala Highway, the main highway linking Upcountry Maui to downtown.  His death was broadcast over the local network television stations for two days.  I think he would have enjoyed the morbid fascination that all of Maui had with his passing. 

He was very independent and was still able to drive.  He had a small car, one that could be easily parked.  I'm sure all of his friends were amazed and maybe somewhat envious that he still had the freedom of being able to drive to where ever and whenever he wanted.  He lived all alone in his old single story, small, plantation-era home.  I still thought of it as being painted the dark green, we referred to it as "plantation" green.  This was the color all the camp homes were painted.  The camps were like villages, a close knit community.  Everyone knew everyone else.  Everyone worked on the plantation.  Everyone was either Japanese or Filipino. 

Let me get back to that awful morning.  Uncle Nick insisted on having Costco Pizza for lunch.  I'm not sure which one he got, but I guess, that's irrelevant.  On his way back from Costco, he was at a traffic signal on Haleakala Highway.  The traffic signal was there in the middle of the 55 mph highway to help the turnerhaulers (the gigantic trucks which hauled the cane from the fields to the processing plant in Puunene) cross the four lanes.  This intersection was commonly known as Keahua Junction, because of the old plantation camp called Keahua Camp that lay down the road.  Ironically, my father and his brothers were all raised at Keahua Camp.There was a passenger car and a truck in front of Uncle.  My family and I all hope that he didn't see what would happen next.  A Ford Econoline Van, the type that moves freight, sped up the highway, not noticing that the line of vehicles in its lane was not moving.  Tires and metal screeched, glass exploded, and a sound like a bomb detonating were the only warning that life would soon be a past tense for my Uncle.  The van hit my uncle's car with enough force to compress my uncle's car into one-half of its normal size. 

According to my cousin, Alan, my uncle's son, the police report indicated that my uncle was alive after the horrendous impact.  I cannot imagine what was going through his head or if he even realized that he was in an accident and had no chance for survival.  The police officer shook my uncle gently and asked him if he was okay.  He replied, "Why'd you wake me up?" and sank back into unconsciousness.  I found out later, at his funeral, that a lady, Karen Ellis, had seen the accident and stopped to check on my uncle.  She spoke of the incident at the funeral.  She said that he was very calm and didn't seem like he was in any pain.  My heart filled with a combination of sadness and relief that someone was brave enough to stop and offer my uncle comfort while he was so vulnerable. She stayed with him until the paramedics came to take him to the hospital.  My uncle died that afternoon.

Having someone die so suddenly gave me new eyes.  I can appreciate little things that people do and do for people little things that may make their day a little happier.  Of course, I will soon forget how temporary life is (I am only human), until someone else is taken away without any forewarning.