In loving memory of my Gramma, Takeko Yamane, who passed away two days ago. It was a Tuesday. 98 whole years of a full, beautiful life. She is no longer in pain and now joins her husband, Teiichi, and seven siblings in heaven.
Kauai holds deep significance in my family’s story, and my gramma was at its center. Every Christmas I can remember, we gathered at her home — our matriarch, our living link to a past shaped by being third-generation Japanese-Hawaiian. I’m the youngest of the cousins, and she was my last living grandparent, anchored by her four daughters.
In 2021, I brought my camera with me (clear by the outdated editing) and, for reasons unknown, felt compelled to photograph a few ordinary moments, sensing they might one day matter. I documented every corner of my gramma’s house — the same house my mom was raised in, and the place where we now gather — filled with objects that may seem unremarkable to most, but are artifacts of a lifetime. Ripe papayas from the farmers market. Apple bananas waiting to be grabbed by a grandchild’s hands. Her muumuus hanging on the line to dry: it’s laundry day. On her vanity sits a portrait of my grandfather, whom I never had the chance to know; he passed away before I was born.
My memories of my gramma are rooted in the beauty of the everyday. I wake up and she’s already in her chair, reading the paper. She quilts while watching “Jeopardy!”, focused yet calling out the answers — love woven into every stitch. She makes bouquets from flowers in her yard for fallen relatives in Hanapēpē. On New Year’s Day, she makes ozoni, our “good luck soup.” Her playing ukulele. Endless meals and laughter, she’s often smiling quietly from the corner, happy simply to be surrounded.
The recent years were harder to witness: the slow decline, the heartbreak of her no longer living independently in the home she loved, her memory fading. I’m deeply grateful that
@lindsaytakeko and I were able to say our final goodbye together the day before we left on our most recent visit.
In holding onto these images, I’m holding onto her.
A hui hou — “until we meet again”. Last photo my cousin
@ty.frey.film @tea_why took years ago that I love.
