As a kid, I used to love going to Kapaa to my auntie Rose's house because we got to stay for the weekend and play with my cousins. My Uncle Frank was pure Spanish from Spain. He always wore a suit and was a gambler. My cousins were beautiful, all half - breed of Filipino, Chinese and Spanish. I guess you can say that I was kind of his pet from my family side. I would always wait for him on the porch and when I saw him walking down the road, I would run to him and his arms would spread wide open welcoming me. I loved Uncle Frank so much, he was my favorite all time uncle and I couldn't wait for weekends to see him because he expressed so much love and affection to all of us kids, especially to me. When he would see me waiting for him, he always had a surprise for me in his pocket, which he made me go through to find it. That was the fun part because he would always get something I liked. We would always wait for him early in the morning because he would come home with a big bag of fresh butter muffins straight from the bakery still hot and smelling so sweet. I can never forget the smell and the taste of those wonderful butter muffins.

My days of looking forward to seeing Uncle Frank ended when we were told that he had died of a heart attack. It broke my heart and when the viewing was held at the house, the family couldn't get over the way I was acting, especially for a small child. I would sit next to his coffin and not move, thinking that he might think that I was leaving him. It was the hardest thing for me to accept. I cried so hard and would not leave his side.

Then the day came for his funeral, my dad and I were waiting for the people to come back from the graveside. My dad was mixing a big bucket of water with lemon leaves for the people to wash in when they came back from the graveyard. I don't know if you are familiar with this tradition, but the Filipinos believed that we should all wash off when we come back from the graveside with lemon water, as the Hawaiians believe you should jump over burned tea leaves after coming back from a funeral also.

My dad was mixing the water and all of a sudden he stopped and said, "Hi, Frank." I looked around for Uncle Frank and asked my dad why did he say that. He said that when someone dies, they don't realize they are gone and come back, but for only a short time. He said not to be afraid because they would never hurt someone they loved. I always believed that. Well, during the novena, we stayed in a tent that my Uncle Frank built in the back yard. It was made of screen, wood and part tarp. It was a beautiful tent, built strong and looked like a house with everything you would furnish a house with. It had a screen door and windows and it was huge.

Well, one night we were all asleep and suddenly the screen door latch (lock) flipped open. My dad got up and wondered how did that happen? He got up and locked it again ... the latch flipped open again, and again and again. My dad finally told us not to be scared and that Uncle Frank was there to protect us. He was letting us know that there was no need to have the door locked.

I remember Auntie Rose grieving so much, as she loved Uncle Frank so much. My cousins were so little then, and she needed so much help. He was gone and we stayed to help as much as we could. Auntie Rose would cry and tell us that she would see the clothes folding by all by itself. She knew that Uncle Frank was near, but she was not afraid and neither were we because we all loved him so much. We knew he was there to let us know that he was still around and that soon he would be gone.

Joyce Guzman  was born on Kauai and graduated Waimea High in 1961. Residing in Dana Point, she works for JCP as a makeup artist and sales associate. Gave up working corporate level in 1991, enjoying life working with people who need consultation on skin care and makeup.