My Tutu

Talk given at memorial service for Jean Ellen Hawkins Jacobsen on January 10, 2009:

Jean Jacobsen was an amazing woman. She was a daughter, a sister, a mother, a friend. It was her role of grandmother that blessed my life.

I have had the fortune of being raised with my Tutu. As I was one of the two grandbabies that were born in Hawaii, Tutu was involved in my early upbringing.

At the age of two our family moved to the mainland, but as we grew and time went on we were able to come back and visit often. Our family spent many summers here creating wonderful memories with Tutu.

My siblings and I enjoyed playing in a plastic wading pool in her yard. Tutu would add soap to the water to create bubbles and double the fun.

The brave woman would even join us in the pool - a risky endeavor when a younger child wasn't yet potty-trained.

We kids marveled at the early discovery that Tutu would burn her toast on purpose, insisting it tasted better that way. She was never able to convert us to that culinary philosophy, but she certainly won us over with her pot roast. Now that was something that tasted good even when burnt! And few dinners were ever considered complete without a side of Wheel of Fortune and Pat Sajak.

Tutu was a feisty lady. Nothing illustrates this better than the infamous Burger King story. After a morning at the beach my mother and Tutu took us kids to Burger King for lunch. After placing our order we stood to the side to await our food. The service was infuriatingly slow but what really got under Tutu's skin was that several people who ordered after us got their meals before us. After voicing her complaints to the staff and receiving little or no apology, she jumped over the counter, stomped through the kitchen, and banged on the manager's door! He got an earful and we got a story to tell our grandchildren.

Over many summers she taught us how to make leis with the plumeria and crown flowers that grew in her yard. She taught me how to sew on the Pfaff sewing machine that her father had bought for her when she was a young mother.

(The kimono Tutu helped me make.)

One summer she let me decorate the inside of a large box with old wall paper samples and then helped me make curtains for the window we cut out. That box became my special place. I would go inside, close the flaps, and draw pictures that I would later "sell" to Tutu for candy or trinkets.

I still have a small, porcelain, heart-shaped box that she gave me in exchange for a work of art.

She was a sentimental soul. For years she would wear shirts that I had decorated for her, no matter how unprofessional they looked. I recently found a row of paper dolls that I cut out and colored for her Primary class over 15 years ago still taped to the mirror in her sewing room.

And hanging next to her bed is a wreath I made many years ago that now even I wouldn't display in my home.

But that ugly wreath is only a small part of the memories she surrounded herself with. Dozens of photos of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren hung on her bedroom wall to greet her in the morning and tuck her in at night.

She loved all of her grandchildren, near or far.

I am so grateful that I got to have her in my life. I will miss snuggling on her lap as a child.

I will miss the warmth of her sweaters that she would share on a cold night. I will miss playing games and completing puzzles together. I will miss her letters and the articles she would cut out and send to me because she thought I might enjoy reading them. I will miss her wonderful laugh that made me feel like the funniest person alive. I miss her so much it hurts.

My memories will have to see me through until the day I can rejoin her and put my arms around her once more.

Thank you, Tutu, for giving me these memories. Thank you for loving me and making me feel special. I will be forever grateful.

Ha'aheo ka ua i na pali
Ke nihi a'ela i ka nahele
E hahai (uhai) ana paha i ka liko
Pua 'ahihi lehua o uka

Aloha 'oe, aloha 'oe
E ke onaona noho i ka lipo
One fond embrace,
A ho 'i a 'e au
Until we meet again.