Kosuke Vasquez:
CLASS OF 1972
Campbell High SchoolClass of 1972
Ewa beach, HI
Coronado High SchoolClass of 1972
Coronado, CA
Kubasaki High SchoolClass of 1972
Okinawa,
Coronado Junior High SchoolClass of 1968
Coronado, CA
Glorietta Elementary SchoolClass of 1966
Coronado, CA
Kosuke's Story
May 31, 2022, will mark exactly two years since I arrived back in Hawaii to look after my mom and dad as Mom was slowly dying from interstitial lung disease and Dad was battling COPD, lung cancer, and time. I was afraid I might expose them both to COVID as I flew over without a test and well before vaccinations. The old guy had little left in himself to care for his wife of 60-plus years, and as the only child, it was my filial duty to do whatever I could to mitigate the indignities of dying of disease and old age. Of course, I failed miserably.
The best I could really do was to offer my parents company and a sympathetic ear, and to extract whatever I could from their memories, their stories of childhood, strife, hunger, shame, accomplishment, family, friends, humor, and joy. I was privileged to have time with them at the end of their lives and frankly, I was glad for them both when they passed, as their band of cohorts all had died before them, and the times were now ill-fitting and alien and certainly had passed them by.
Since their passing, I have been culling, sorting, cleaning, selling, donating, and throwing things away. I didn’t think an 850 square-foot house could hold so much “stuff,” but Mom was a household systems engineer, packing things away in various labeled (in Japanese) containers that were neatly stacked in closets, while other things were put away folded, stacked, or rolled into dresser drawers and cabinets, and even stored in baskets hung from ten penny nails in the rafters.
Dad did none of that. He simply put things in places that he found convenient then forgot where he put them, at which time he would go by another one (or two or three) then later forget where he put those too. I’ve rolled my eyes and hung my head in exasperation many times during the sorting and cleaning process, but a personal health issue of my own would remind me that maybe Dad was simply no longer physically nor mentally capable to do the things he should have done.
I would spend several months scheduling medic...Expand for more
al exams, tests, and consulting specialists until the urologist and oncologist finally confirmed that I had transitional cell carcinoma (also known as urothelial carcinoma) in my right kidney. The bad news was that the affected kidney, ureter, and a tiny bit of the bladder would need to be surgically removed. The good news was that I have another kidney, a good one that is functioning just fine, and that I could live a normal life with one kidney.
It has been about nine weeks since surgery, and I’m feeling well again compared to the days just after surgery, but I must admit I am otherwise exhausted. Yet, my case has had a good outcome unlike too many other stories—you all know one—that are truly devastating, which is not lost on me. I am truly grateful. In my case, the pathology on the removed kidney showed high-grade cancer but no metastasis, nor did it spread to the lymph nodes, and not having to go through chemotherapy is just fine with me.
Most recently, my son, who arrived in Hawaii in March to look after me during my recovery, and I dropped my mom and dad’s ashes into the sea from a sailboat. It was something Mom and Dad had decided they wanted after we dropped the pu’olu containing my wife Karen’s ashes into the ocean in 2014. The captain of the sloop was able to take us out to approximately the same place. It was a beautiful day on the water, just as it was more than seven years ago. We dropped fresh rose petals and Mom’s collection of assorted dried leaves, most of which she collected back east during the fall. I was happy and relieved that I was able to fulfill my promise, and with the motor off, a favorable breeze filled the jib which was enough to give us a leisurely sail back to the harbor and a peaceful reverie.
Under the midday sun and gentle trade winds, my thoughts drifted to the possibilities for this new phase of my life -- widowed and now without my parents, and no longer a caregiver -- and I made a wish for myself, my family and my friends for the fairest of winds and following seas.
Register for Free to view all details!
Reunions
Register for Free to view all events!
Photos
Register for Free to view all photos!