It's the middle of summer on Oahu's North Shore. The ocean is flat and calm. A long and thin wooden vessel that was carved from the trunk of a powerful old Banyan Tree is pushed from the shoreline toward the deep blue sea. Anyone who might pass this way on any particular morning might not find this an unusual sight. On any other morning one would go their way and not give it much thought, but this is not any other morning. A group of people have gathered together for a definite purpose. This gathering of people are in one mind and of one accord. As the craft heads toward the ocean's depth and away from the sandy white beach, one can't help to notice that this is an unusual event. There are flowers and images as if, of a celebration of some sort.

These are mourners. Yes, they are dressed in the bright colors we've grown accustomed to call native Hawaiian. Yes, they appear composed despite the unthinkable truth that brings this group of mainlanders and islanders together. It is the custom of the Hawaiian people to spread the ashes of the departed out to sea. This is the sacrament of the Island people. It is holy. Why have they gathered on this sunny morning? They are mourning the untimely death of a young boy. A boy too young to die. There are baseball games to play and homework to turn in.

The small vessel descends upon the ocean. Many long wooden surfboards steered by bronze men, once proud warriors, not unlike gods paddle behind the skiff. In the midst of this group there is a blonde woman with piercing blue eyes. She sits at the front of the vessel holding a small jar. This jar is what remains of the child. The father of the child sits behind the child's mother. A prayer is spoke into the wind and the child's ashes are spread over the ocean's surface. Someone said, "We originated from the sea. It is only proper that we return to it when our time here is removed." On this day the Gods as we like to call them will do the just thing. They will bring peace to all that have been deeply saddened over this child's tragic passing.

The ceremony is over and the crowd embrace before they begin to disperse. Embracing one another does something to us. It makes the meek feel stronger and the haughty humbled. The blonde woman stares out at the sea. "I'm alright. I just want to take a walk along the beach. I want to be alone with my thoughts and reflect on the loss of my child." The few who remain understand. They watch helplessly as the blond woman slowly makes her way North over the white sandy beach. The blonde woman comes to a place she has been many times before. This time this place takes on a different meaning. A parent is not supposed to out-live their child. "Sometimes I feel like cursing God for this but not today, this is the boy's day. This is a new chapter in life and I know that I must do what is right." The waves slowly ascend upon the jagged lava rock and then slowly ebb back toward the ocean. Each wave leaves behind numerous pools of shallow water. The blond woman kneels down beside one of the pools of water. She sees her reflection, then she sees the reflection of a newborn baby which is being dipped into the shallow pools as if in baptism. The infant slips from her hands and begins to float gently away. She reaches after the child and pulls it back to her bosom. "On that day I knew that the child was not going to be with me long. It was an omen telling me that he would be taken from me someday. Today I return to this shore and acknowledge that the deed is done. Now what shall I do"?

A sun scorched old man sits in the waiting room of a doctor's office. The only sign of frailty one might notice about this old man is the cane that's draped across his knees. His skin is leathered and spotted from the many years of the sun beating down upon him as he steered his vessel into port. His devoted wife sits at his side as she has for years. She is like the handmaiden at the side of the King about to be dethroned. She is much like the keeper of the gate of the castle that is about to be overthrown. She is the blond woman's mother and this man is her father. The room is silent except for the anxious breath of the old man. The door suddenly opens, simultaneously the woman reaches for her husband's hand. A thin almost emaciated doctor enters the room. The couple looks to him awaiting the words that will comfort their concerns. "I'm sorry. The cancer has spread rapidly throughout your body. The headaches that you've been experiencing are caused by malignant tumors. The disease has spread to your brain. I don't give you sixty days. I'm sorry. I'm terribly sorry. I wish I could have brought you good news today. There just isn't anything else that I can tell you." "Sixty days? I'm barely sixty-one. I'm too young to die. I don't want to die and I'm twice the man you are." The old man languidly stands aided by his cane. Hand in hand the couple slowly exits the office.

The blonde woman finds herself sitting at the side of her father in a hospital room. He's bald from radiation and getting weaker by the day. Time is not on his side. "I'm afraid to die. I haven't led such a good life. I've scoffed at the thought of there being a God and mocked all that called upon him. Now I am close to my appointed time and the only thing I believe in is the realization that I don't have the right to call out for guidance. I'm afraid to die. I don't want to die." "My son died and he was only ten years old. If he could face death alone, as he did, than you must find the strength to face what is inevitable." "I've wanted to ask you something? Why did your son die on my birthday? I do not understand this." "There are many things that we do not understand but for now you must rest." "Stay with me won't you? I don't want to be alone when my time comes." "I assure you of thing. You will not be alone when it comes time for you to pass." The blonde woman then kissed the old mans forehead as he fell fast asleep.

The old man finds himself alone. He's sitting in a small dory and casting a line. But even on this day, in this dream he's consumed in his thought of death and dying. He's not had much luck. There isn't a fish interested at all in his fishing lure. "My thoughts of death and dying bring me no luck at all." "Hey Grandpa." The old man is startled. The young boy grabs at the side of the boat and brushes the water from his face. "What are you doing here? I thought that you were gone. I thought that you were gone for good? "I'm OK. It's pretty fun here. You know what? Whenever I go fishing I break a new world record. I break all your world records everyday. You should have seen the one I caught just this morning. It was..." The old man reaches out and touches the face of the boy. " Are you doing fine son? Is everything good? Are you afraid?" "Oh heck no Grandpa. That's why I came here today. I came to tell you not to worry. It'll all be OK." "OK?" "Yes, and then we can fish together always." "Then I don't have anything to be afraid of?" "There is no fear here Grandpa. Only things... things... I can't really explain it. I guess you'll have to find out on your own." The boy dives under the water. The frightened old man calls out to the child. "Don't go away. Come back. There so much I need to know." The boy comes up from his dive and reaches his hand out to his Grandfather. "Here!" "What is it?" "It's a pearl." The old man takes the pearl from the boy. "This is the grandest pearl that I have ever seen." "Oh, it's nothin' I find pearls like that anytime I want." "Anytime?" "Anytime." The boy spins and dives back into the water. "Wait. Come back. Tell me more. I don't want to die alone. I'm afraid of dying." The boy comes up from his dive several yards from the small floating vessel. "It'll be OK Grandpa. I'll be there with you. You'll see." The boy backstrokes from the boat, his strides take him further away from the dory. "Wait. Let me ask you just one thing?" "What's that Grandpa?" "Why did you leave us on my birthday? That was very painful. It hurt me deeply." "Sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen that way. It just happened." "Well how would you like it if I died on your birthday? I'll bet you wouldn't like that too much." The boy is almost out of sight now. "Just for that, I think I'll join you on your birthday. Yes! I will. I'm going to join you on your birthday. What do you think of that?" "That would be OK Grandpa. See you soon." The boy disappeared in the distance as he spoke those words.

Once again the blonde woman is sitting at the side of her father. "Wait boy. Come back. You must come back." "Father?" The old man awakes from his dream. "The boy came to me again. He told me not to be afraid. He said that he would be with me. He said that if he could do it, I could do it too. He told me there was really nothing to it. He said not to be afraid." The old man looked over to the calendar that sat on the table next to his bed. Today is the 21st of December. When was the boy born? "He was born on Christmas Eve. Don't you remember?" "I'll not make it to Christmas morning." I'll be gone on Christmas Eve. It's only fitting that I pass on his birthday and I told him that I would." "Father, the boy didn't come to you. It was just a dream." "I'm telling you he came to me. It was real." The old man reaches for his pockets. There aren't any. He's in a hospital gown. "Where is that pearl? That boy dove deep in the water and gave me the biggest pearl you ever laid your eyes on." "That's fine, but for now you need to rest." "No, right now what I need it to get out of this hospital room. I don't want to die in this place. I want to go home and spend the remainder of my time in my own home. And I want to pray. I've got a lot of ground to cover in the next few days."

Once the old man was settled in his home he began to pray. He remembered all the terrible things he had done to others. He was truly filled with sorrow for his shortcomings. He reflects about the loss of his childhood and how he had to become a man before his time. He also had not seen his mother for over thirty years. She too had passed on and he had not the chance to say good-bye. This tormented the old man for years. He regretted this often and thought of her in the evening when he was alone. No matter how many years had passed, every time he looked in the mirror he saw the visage of his mother. Though it had been years, he knew that he was the spittin' image of her.

The day before Christmas Eve the old man had another dream. This time he cared not for fishing. He did not cast his line. He only waited for the small boy to arrive. The boy suddenly appeared as he had before. He pulled himself up to the boat holding on to the side. "I'm concerned about your mother. We must find some way to console her." "You people have so much to learn. Someday it will all be OK for all of us. Tell her to look out into the night when she is alone. Tell her to look into the sky. Tell her she will see two shooting stars in the sky. One big one and one small one." "Oh, I get it. The big shooting star will be me and the little one will be you." "Grandpa, I've been here for some time now. The big star will be me and you will be following behind." He understands the boy and nods his head in agreement. "Will you take me to a great fishing hole?" The boy begins to swim off. "If that's what you want." "Will my legs be whole once again?" "If that's what you want. See you real soon Grandpa." "I'll see you soon my son." "Grandson." "I'll see you soon my grandson. I'm looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to the day."

On Christmas Eve the old man fell into a deep sleep. From his bedside his daughter, the blonde woman felt more alone than ever. She did not understand why she would be losing the two people she loved the most. It did not seem fair. Before long the old man gave up his spirit. The young woman witnessed his passing and realized that it was peaceful and with dignity. This is what the old man wanted. She could not hold back her tears, as she knew that in this life she would never see her father again. She would never sit at breakfast with him or discuss the current events of this world. She would never hear another great fish tail ever again. So the tears welled up in her eyes and they began to flow. She suddenly remembered his last words before he fell into his final rest. "Watch for the stars tonight. Just when you think you can bare no more. Look up and you will see two stars. These stars will be me and the boy, you can count on this!" The blonde woman kissed her father good-bye as she wiped the tears from her eyes. She was looking at the calendar at his bedside. It was December 24th, Christmas Eve. Later that night she walked past her mother's bedroom. Her mother lay asleep alone in the large bed. The house was quiet and empty. No longer did the boy race down the hallway. No longer was the Christmas tree cluttered with wrapped gifts and toys waiting for the boy to open on Christmas Day. No longer would this house ever be as it once had been. It was well past midnight and the blonde woman stood before the window. There were tears streaming down her face. She began to weep sorrowfully when she saw her father's boat parked on the lawn by the driveway. Who would steer that vessel now she thought to herself? She began to cry aloud weeping sorrowfully. She felt she could bare no more when suddenly she spotted something that caught her eye. The sky seemed to open up and suddenly two shooting stars darted across the full length of the sky. A large bright star followed by a smaller one just as bright. They seemed to be playfully racing across the horizon. There was no mistaking what these were. They were two shooting stars! When they had gone across the length of the sky she turned away as if in disbelief and saw her reflection in the mirror. In the reflection she could see the portrait of her father and the boy. It was early Christmas Morning. She ran to tell her mother about what she had just witnessed. Upon reaching her mother's bedside she stepped on something that felt like a marble. "The boy must've lost it while playing," she thought aloud. "What my dear." "Oh, nothing mother, I seemed to have stumbled across another one of the boys toys." She reached down to pick up the marble and to her amazement she picked up the largest pearl she has ever seen. No longer are there tears in her eyes as she begins to tell her mother the story.

On the day the old man was buried someone hung a sign on the outside of his casket. It read, Goin' Fishin.'

One month later the blond woman was organizing her belongings at work and she stumbled across her digital camera. There was film in it and she wondered about this. She placed the film's images on her computer screen and began to go through the images. To her surprise and amazement they were pictures of the boy. He had been playing with the camera and took pictures of himself from the passenger seat of the car and through the passenger car window and into the rear view mirror. The boy was taking pictures of himself in the rear view mirror! She could plainly make out the words; Objects In The Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear.