Kahuna Signs

Today marks the one week anniversary of the day I was not prepared for. That Day. Last words. Last hug. Last day of my Kahuna filled life. I still sleep on “my side” of the bed, and find myself referring to future plans as, “We want to…” It was the George and Paula Show for so long, and separating myself from that beautiful companionship is going to take time. Writing is helping me heal, and I thank those reading this for indulging my oversharing.

When does it feel real? I know he’s gone. There will be no return to his side of the bed. No more stories my Kahuna famously told – and retold - with such enthusiasm. For now I feel as if I’m going through the motions of daily life, and not truly feeling his absence. Tears flow freely - and often - as if I'm part of a sappy Hallmark movie. Yet this isn't fiction and my reality hasn't quite gotten the memo.

I’ve got a village doing everything possible to help make the transition more bearable. And I have learned just how much George was directing key players from the sidelines these past four months, assuring his inevitable departure (CANCER SUCKS) would be as painless as possible for me, his LPM, Lovely Paula Marie.

This week with the help of our best friend, we sat at George’s desk preparing his case files for colleagues who have so openly and willingly stepped up to keep his clients represented. Making calls. Breaking the news to those who felt so secure in his capable professional hands. Discussing his clients with his sister/brotherhood of attorney friends, and crying at some point in every conversation. His absence from all of our lives is very real, yet I can’t say the reality – the finality – has sunk in. Is that a sign that he’s still “with” me?

Signs Oh how I want to know that, absent of his cancer ravaged body, my Kahuna is watching over me. Over us. For those who process the afterlife differently, I honor and accept your version. For me, I have taken great comfort when my dearly departed have “visited” me in dreams, appeared in nature, or somehow let me know they are with me. My sister is with me with every monarch butterfly. Another beautiful soul drops by as a dove occasionally. George seems to be dropping by too, visiting family and friends, and likely leaving hints that they are all now responsible for the care and feeding of his LPM…

The Wake Up Call  George’s heart stopped less than a minute after Son arrived in the ICU, completing our family circle who lovingly and tearfully surrounded him. Our extended family had all gone to bed praying for George, and expecting an update in the morning. That update would shatter everyone’s hopes. As word spread to our closest family and the Pilgrimage to Paula began, so did the tales of the signs. Niece, suddenly awakened from a sound sleep at the exact time her favorite uncle was in that tearful hug with Son – the moment I believe George waited for - before letting go of his failing body. Uncle George stopped by to see his beautiful “little girl” and let her know he would always be a second father as well as a dear friend. In the days after, others shared stories of unusual awakenings that coincided with my Kahuna’s first, then second heart stopping moments. Signs.

The Whale  The morning after his passing, Daughter and Son-in-law drove to the Pacific Coast Highway for some coffee, tears and reflection. You may know the spot – famous in many SoCal car commercials for its rugged cliffs and landmark rock protuberance. The Kahuna and I spent our fair share of moments in that exact spot, taking in the endless view and salt spray of crashing waves. Suddenly Daughter noticed, not far offshore, the distinct undulation of a whale as it slowly traveled along the coastline. In all of her visits to that spot she had never spotted a whale. Neither had I. She immediately texted me. A few days later, Niece checked in while on her long planned birthday trip along California’s Central Coast and shared her first-ever sighting of…you guessed it…a whale! My Big Kahuna Whale was with them. Signs.

Man’s Best Friend George is a pushover for the Golden Retrievers who have been the third Musketeer in the George and Paula Show. Charlie has assumed that role since we rescued him in 2015, and was probably the dog most bonded to his dad. After George’s diagnosis, Charlie stayed closer to his master – alongside his chair or curled up in George’s office while he met with clients. Charlie prefers sleeping downstairs in his “spot”, and rarely sauntered up the stairs – unless he sensed George was putting on his walking shoes for their daily stroll - and bounded up for confirmation. They were inseparable. Yet dogs live in the moment, so George’s absence doesn’t play out with human emotion. Charlie’s still waiting for Dad to come through the door, yet is his happy-go-lucky Golden self in the meantime. But he’s here for me. Nuzzled into my lap when I had my first meltdown. And this morning – only my second overnight alone since That Day – I found Charlie at the foot of George’s side of the bed. As I lay in bed on my self-proclaimed day of solitude, he has stayed upstairs with me. George’s best friend is now my Hairy Kahuna, making sure I am safe. A sign.

The Rings  George had two wedding rings. The band I placed on his finger in 1974, and a second, slightly more blingy ring – my gift to him for our 40th anniversary, and a mate to the ring he gave me. His wedding band was all but fused to his ring finger, thanks to the extra pounds 44 years of marriage had bestowed on him. I did not expect it to leave his finger That Day, but his kind and compassionate ICU nurse had other plans. Using ultrasound lubricant gel, she oh-so-gently massaged his finger to work the ring from his lifeless hand and tenderly handed it to me. It was the last gift from George to me, and both rings now hang from a chain around my neck. They rest close to my heart – in my cleavage – my Kahuna is loving this placement!

Sweet grandbaby Kelly, at nine months, will sadly have no memories of her grandpa, other than the stories and photos we will share to keep him in her heart forever. One of George’s only regrets when he became sick was not having more time with his three grandchildren. He had hoped for fishing trips, more Disneyland adventures, and more time to create memories. Shortly after That Day, Daughter’s family decided to take their planned overnight trek to the happiest place on earth, and I opted to join them. It was our happy place too, and a good diversion for the day. I made it my role to stroll Kelly while Max, Daughter and SIL enjoyed the rides. She was my perfect companion – she let me cry as I recalled the memories with George here, and she didn’t question if I was “alright”. We took Kelly on one infant-friendly attraction – a little train ride. As I sat alongside Kelly in her daddy’s lap, she reached for the rings and held them the entire time. Holding Grandpa’s hand on her first ever ride at his favorite place to be a kid at heart. She has continued to clutch the rings at every opportunity since then. Grandpa is keeping close. A sign.

In Dreams  I have heard from friends and family that George has “visited” them. A presence. A feeling. A dream. I experienced those encounters when my mother and sister died, and had a beautiful moment with one of our Goldens – Bear – after we lost him suddenly. George’s dad came to him shortly after his death, and he found great comfort and wonder in the experience. I wanted more time with my Kahuna and was slightly envious hearing he had popped in on others and not me – yet!

I had my moment – the first of many I hope – two nights ago. We didn’t talk, but we hugged. I could feel him. There was less girth to wrap my arms around, which I attributed to the massive tumor being gone. He hugged back. We kissed. It was still wonderful. I awakened suddenly and he was gone. I willed myself back to sleep in hopes he would still be there. He wasn’t. I’m hoping he will return for a conversation one day. I have more to tell him. I want him to know I’m sorry for those last excruciating hours.

On this self-imposed day alone, I am going to look at photos, listen to music, hug Charlie and take a long walk. I’ll be looking for signs. I know my Kahuna is sending them.

Alone

Day 3 of #kahunagone is almost in the books. I’m cozied up with Daughter, Son-in-law and the kids in the hotel across the street from Disneyland. Tomorrow I will suspend reality and enjoy the sweet smell of innocence and joy with my grands. I’m glad today is over...

I was alone for the first time today. ALONE. Daughter had spent the night as my protector and designated shoulder to cry on. We shared stories of her dad/my Kahuna. Laughed. Cried. Planned for the new normal. Hugged and went to bed.

I had assured everyone who had been super-glued to my side since Thursday I was fine. And I thought I was - until Daughter left this morning. Within minutes I felt the emptiness of a house absent of my lifelong roommate.

“Just keep swimming,” I thought. I swam - into a riptide of reminders. His keys in their familiar spot. His clothes in the laundry basket. His name on a get well card received too late.

Then it hit. My mind flashed to the ICU and the terror in his eyes after being intubated. It is burned in my memory and it haunts me. I thought he would get better. I said yes to the procedure yet it didn’t matter. I felt such guilt, and for the first time in this terrible journey I wailed with unbridled grief. I was alone and I let go. Screamed into his sweatshirt I wore to keep him close. Shook uncontrollably and told George how sorry I was to have put him through such a horrific procedure. I asked him to send me a sign to say he forgave me.

My meltdown confused Charlie, and he did what Goldens do - sidled up to my limp body, nuzzled his way into my arms and buried his head in my lap. I took his big blond head into my hands and found comfort in his soft furry love. I was physically drained and emotionally spent, and realized the new normal would not always be pretty.

Another first? A trip to Trader Joe’s - to shop for one. An encounter with a sweet friend who had not heard The News. Finding the right words to answer the question,”How’s George doing?” Crying in the produce aisle and comforting him upon hearing my reply.

At one point in the day, my bed sounded like the perfect spot to wallow in self pity. Forget Disneyland. Postpone the visit to check out a venue large enough to accommodate George’s “Party”. But I persisted! Channeled my inner Kahuna - and a dear friend Bridget - and pulled on my big girl pants. Showered and dressed and packed my bag for my day in Fantasyland. Mission accomplished!

There will continue to be more of these moments that give me pause, and I suspect each one will help cover the open wound on my heart. For now I consider making it through today a win.

Tonight, as the muffled booms of Disneyland’s fireworks fill the night air, I am wishing upon a star, asking for my for Big Kahuna’s forgiveness and looking for signs that he is alright. Perhaps tonight’s sunset was an answer!

Sweet granddaughter held his rings on her first ever Disneyland ride. A sign.

Goodnight Moon. Goodnight my love. 💙

Kahuna Gone

I survived Day 2 of my Kahuna-less life. My loved ones are ferociously protective of me and have taken George’s place in making sure I am safe. He has to be so grateful to them for assuming that role. So am I. And yet my heart aches that his place had to be taken.

Family and friends filled the house as we shared tears and laughter (and by evening, wine) remembering George! In the morning we visited the mortuary to handle final arrangements, and made stops to visit and leave flowers for my sister Janet and George’s mom Bette. The night ended in true Cass de Hultman fashion, with a few of us sitting around the fire pit telling more stories about a man who had such an impact on so many people. In bed, I clutched his pillow again and held the one piece of clothing that still carries the scent of my beautiful man. This big bed feels so empty. My Kahuna was a key player in all but the first 17 years of my life. How I will carry-on without him is the question I can’t yet answer.

“Hey, Paula! Your husband just died. What are you going to do next?” I’m going to Disneyland! Yes. It’s true. Alison and her family had made the plans several weeks ago before our world took this sad and unexpected turn. Thankfully, they made the decision not to cancel their trip. As we talked yesterday about the days ahead I thought to myself, “I should go too.” It was a place where George and I happily became kids again. Being with the grands would be a beautiful diversion from reality for a day. I could be the saddest person on earth at the happiest place on earth! So this afternoon after we visit a few places in mind for George’s memorial, I’m taking my seat between sweet Max and Kelly to lose myself in Disney imagined make believe - definitely a George-approved diversion.

The extraordinary outpouring of tributes and shared memories have been so appreciated. PLEASE KEEP THEM COMING! They bring back a flood of beautiful memories and provide tremendous comfort. I am saving each and every post, message and comment, and plan on creating a collection of George Moments in which to immerse myself whenever I need to feel his presence.

I am deeply grateful and profoundly overwhelmed by the love and kindness you have shown me along this journey. The flowers, cards, gifts, food, messages, visits and hugs - both virtual and physical - have helped me cope with the grief that consumes me. It’s impossible to express the depth of my appreciation. I am...speechless. ❤️

I Wasn’t Ready To Say Goodbye

My Hubby, my Big Kahuna, George left us at 2:03am, April 19. His heart was not strong enough to fight the infection caused by his cancer and chemo weakened immune system. Scott Allison and I were with him to say goodbye. Then I came home and wrote...

We had a great life together. From the day we officially met 50 years ago, we were friends at first sight. July 6 would have marked our 44th anniversary. I will celebrate that date forever.

I’m awake at 4:15 in the morning imagining you downstairs, watching old TV reruns from your chair. I hear your voice. I see your big broad shoulders. your duck footed walk -just like your dad. My head is on the pillow you insisted we bring to the hospital. Where I said goodbye. Where they gently removed and handed me your rings - even the wedding band that hadn’t been off your finger since the 90’s. It’s now around my neck on the chain and locket you gave me for my birthday a few weeks ago. I’m clutching them and imagining they’re still on your big strong hands.

I wasn’t ready to say goodbye so soon my love. It’s not the happy ending we had assumed was in our future. But I know I made the decision you would have wanted.

You were so so so loved! You cried often these past few months, seeing the outpouring of support, and realizing for the first time how many people cared deeply about you. You told me more than once the biggest compliment anybody could pay you was to say you were honest, generous and fair. You were all that and so much more.

I’m so sad. I’m afraid. Already missing you so much that it’s hard to breathe. I know your biggest concern when you found out you were sick was how hard it was going to be on the kids and me Once again you only thought about others.

Georgie I love you. I will always love you. We had such a beautiful and wonderful life together. Scott, Alison the grandkids and I will stay strong - #kahunastrong - because that’s what you would want us to do. We will also laugh loudly, dance happily, give freely -and forever bleed Dodger blue! They won last night. For you!!!

Until we meet again. Please come visit me in my dreams as often as you can.

I am forever your Lovely Paula Marie.