Sitting in his truck outside of the surf shop, Steve McGarrett silently watched as people, young and old, came to lay leis outside the closed door. The colorful Hawaiian necklaces of flowers symbolized the love for the man who had touched the generations of Hawaiian lives with his love and kindness.
An adopted keikikane of the land, Mamo Kahike had become a kaikau'ana, a makuakane or a kupunakane to all he had met. He had become an important member of many ohanas on the island, an adopted member of more ohanas than he had probably ever realized.
A tear rolled down Steve's cheek as he fingered his own lei and his own memories of the gentle man whom he was honored to call a friend floated through his mind. A small smile tugged at his lips as he remembered Mamo patiently teaching of both Joannie and himself to surf after their father had tried and failed. He laughed as he remembered their Joannie's many tumbles into the surf as she tried to balance on the board. Mamo had the patience of a saint.
Even after Steve had left the islands, only to return years later to form the elite Hawaii Five O taskforce and investigate his father's murder, their friendship had continued and flourished with a new mutual respect and on a deeper level, their friendship had become much closer, Mamo had become one of his closest confidents, often giving wise advice when he needed it the most.
Mamo had also become an important member of the Five O ohana, loved and cherished by each member, young and old, here and away, of the now heartbroken Five O ohana. No one had wanted to say goodbye to the man they all loved.
Swallowing hard, he opened the truck door and climbed out. He knew that there would be a funeral later, followed by the surfers' farewell but he wanted to say his own, personal aloha to a close friend who he knew that he would always miss. Laying his own colorful lei down in front of Mamo's surf shop as he joined the other mourners who were united in their grief, he whispered, "Aloha doesn't only mean goodbye, my friend, it also means hello. And I know that we will be saying Aloha when we meet again one day!"
H50 H50 H50
Aloha Al (Mamo Kahike) Harrington.
December 12, 1935 – September 21, 2021
Aloha does not mean goodbye; it also means hello!
You will be greatly missed.
Rest In Peace.