March 4th — Where Love Still Speaks

On this day

I carry two offerings

to the edge of the ocean.

Two flowers placed gently

into the same water —

not to measure loss,

not to weigh one against the other,

but to let the tide hold

what my hands cannot.

First, I honor her —

a woman whose love moved like instinct,

whose devotion stood steady

between her family and the world.

She met life with courage.

She showed up when it mattered.

She deserved long mornings,

soft years,

a life unfolding exactly as she dreamed it.

She was innocent.

She is loved.

She is missed in the spaces

only she could fill.

And then —

my son.

The ache of saying that word

and knowing he is not here

is a language I never wanted to learn.

He fought a war inside his own mind,

voices and shadows

that would not loosen their grip.

A system meant to steady him

let him drift

without the anchors he needed.

He was a human being in profound pain.

He was more than the moment that defined him.

He was a soul in torment

trying to quiet unbearable noise.

He wanted relief.

He wanted help.

He wanted peace inside his own head.

This year has carved me open —

trauma layered upon trauma,

reality pressed into my hands

like something sharp I cannot set down.

His children wake up

without their father.

They wake up

without their aunt.

And their mother carries

a weight no heart is built to carry alone.

We are a family reshaped by grief,

learning to stand

where the ground once split beneath us.

On March 4

I allow space for both sorrows to exist.

I do not divide them.

I do not compare them.

I let them rest side by side.

I honor the protector.

I grieve the son I could not reach in time.

I hold the love that shaped them.

I hold the pain that changed us.

I remember the fullness of their lives.

They walked this earth.

They laughed.

They loved.

They were needed.

They were human.

And as I place these flowers into the ocean,

I ask gently —

Have we reached for those who are grieving,

or have we stepped back in discomfort?

Have we spoken about trauma

with care,

with truth,

with humility?

What support was offered

during their time of need?

What compassion is being extended

to those who continue to grieve?

May we speak openly about mental pain

without shame.

May we hold one another accountable

with compassion, not cruelty.

And may love — fierce, imperfect, human love —

be louder than the silence that follows tragedy.

The tide will carry these flowers.

But it will not carry away their names.

Their lives ripple still. 💙💙

A Father’s Love - 

By: John Fourshey 

First off thank you- everyone -not just for being here - if you are here it's because you were a part of Zays life and loved him as well - so thank you for that- you are all family and are all a blessing and reflection of how deeply Zay was loved. We are here to remember him, to share how much it hurts he is gone, and most importantly to celebrate and honor the beautiful light that he brought, something that will never leave us.

Isiah came into this world like a shooting star- Bright, shining and inspiring. He grew in to himself with a spark in his eye and in his spirit. When I think of him, I think of moments:

the sound of his laughter, the energy of his smile.

So zay was always ahead of the curve- a funny story about that was when he was young and beginning to speak we thought maybe something was wrong with him -NOPE - speech therapist said hes fine -turns out he was so advanced he was speaking full sentences basically before his mouth learned to speak the words and oh boy once it did -he was off and rolling :)

He excelled in everything he did from the jump - school, sports, socially, he was a star ...if he put his mind to it he was on it.

He was funny and kind, thoughtful, empathetic, and loving. He was fierce, he was passionate, and he was also gentle, kind, and protective.

He loved car rides -when he was younger - to the point he wouldn't go to bed if we didn't drive him around the neighborhood until he fell asleep. I mean he wouldn't let us get him to sleep any other way-to the point he would cry and hold his breath till he turned purple :) - some of the most amazing conversations and times we had together came while we were ridin- he was my roll dog fa real!

He was also laughter in our home,

a spark of energy and joy that brightened even the dullest days.

He could make me proud and drive me crazy in the same breath—

which, I suppose, means he was perfectly human,

and perfectly my son.

He scored so much in soccer we had to ask him to stop scoring- then hed kick it from midfield and score and then hed be done- he always wanted the last say since he was young and boy it did not lessen as he got older - my lord he always had to have the last word to where sometimes id just walk away and hed be saying stuff as i left and id leave for whether walking away or driving but id always turn back and make sure I hugged him before i left and hed be standing in the same spot waiting knowing I wouldn't leave without hugging him and hed be standing there smiling no matter if it was a lightweight argument or heated cause he knew he had me wrapped around his finger - he was enfuriorating and annoying at times and funny and loving at times but I loved and adored him in all of it no matter what

When I think of him, I think of moments:

the sound of his laughter from another room,

the way his eyes lit up when he discovered something new,

the quiet talks we shared when the world felt too heavy while on a long drive or on the lanai.

I remember him as a keiki running barefoot on the beach leaving little footprints in the sand,

and as a young man finding his way with courage and conviction.

He taught me more about love than I ever taught him.

He reminds me—over and over—that life is fragile, but love is not.

I saw him love his kids with that same kind of love and man did i love seeing him love them more than anything - thats what im going to miss the most that look he had when he had his kids was just amazing -I will truly miss that more than anything -definitely more than talking politics with him or listening to him try to explain the stock market and bit coin and precious metals to me but honestly I would give anything for another annoying ass or over my head or lets agree to disagree conversation with him

Id love to hear stories about him throughout this celebration and long into the future -so feel free to share when opportunity presents itself

It’s strange to speak of Zay in the past tense. It feels wrong in the mouth,

as if the soul could be limited by time or language. But I know in my heart—

he is not gone. He has only moved beyond the veil, into that wider circle of light we all one day will enter.

And in that place, I believe,

there is peace.

There is laughter still.

There is love that continues without end.

⸻

To those who loved him—

carry forward his kindness.

Tell his stories.

Live a little more freely,

a little more honestly, stand up for what you believe - as he would have wanted you to.

I am grateful that his spirit is stitched into my being,Until we meet again, my

run in that endless light.

Laugh without end.

And know that your father’s heart will always find you,

across every distance,

in every prayer,

in every quiet moment of love.

Again thank you everyone I love you and appreciate you all. 

Isaiah was ours.

Our light, our laughter,

Our wild, bright soul

Who lived with his heart wide open.

He didn’t tiptoe through life—

He ran, he laughed, he loved,

And he made sure everyone around him

Felt that burst of energy he carried.

Sometimes loud, sometimes deep,

But always real.

And when things got heavy,

When life pushed hard,

He still found a way to smile—

Or crack a joke, Or when he’d go to far

He'd toss out his favorite line:

“I joke, I joke… I kid, I kid!”

Just to make us laugh

Even when our hearts didn’t feel like it..

Isaiah had his challenges—

The kind you don’t see on the surface—

But he fought through them with a spirit

That was bigger than the struggle.

He tried.

He pushed.

He gave us everything he had to give.

And the greatest gift he leaves behind

Is his four beautiful children—

His legacy,

His heart living on

In four different ways.

When we look at them,

We see him—

His smile, his eyes, his spark.

The best part of him lives in them,

And that is something

We will always honor.

Now Isaiah is resting.

Truly resting.

In a peace he always deserved,

Where his mind is quiet

And his spirit free.

No more storms,

No more battles

Inside or out.

We will miss him—

In the small everyday ways,

In the big irreplaceable ways,

In the ways words can’t hold.

But we will remember him

With love,

With laughter,

With his jokes ringing in the air

Just like he’d want.

Isaiah rode the waves of life

His own way—

Sometimes smooth,

Sometimes rough,

But always genuine.

Always him.

And as a family,

We hold onto that—

Onto the love he gave,

The memories he left,

And the children who carry

His brightest light forward.

Always remembered.

Always loved.

Forever Our Zay

By: Nspire