Kang Gary slowly opened his eyes. He could see a sliver of late morning light peeking between the white curtain panels on the far wall of the hotel room. He was jet lagged and wanted to sleep more, but he knew he couldn’t. Song Ji Hyo breathed heavily beside him. He loved watching her sleep, the way always hung slightly open, as if about to say something but frozen in silence. He thought about coaxing her from her sleep with small kisses down her shoulder, but just before his lips met her skin, he instead slowly pulled away and gently rose from the bed. His body was hidden in the shadows of the room as he walked over to the window, smiling. With one quick sweep, he yanked the curtains wide open. The sudden sunlight filled the room.

“Yah!” Ji Hyo yelled, hiding her face from the sun. “Kang Gary-ah!”

Gary stood with his back to her, trying to contain his smile. As Ji Hyo groaned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Gary admired the view of Waikiki Beach, the white sandy shoreline empty on this autumn morning. The ocean gently splashed in small waves against the sand, and Gary wished that he and Ji Hyo had a more pleasant reason for coming to Hawaii.

He heard Ji Hyo gasp when she saw him, the light from the sun outlining his body.

“Gary-ah! What are you, some kind of exhibitionist?” When he responded only with a confused expression, she yelled again. “Yah! Come away from the window.”

He smiled, the dimples deep in his cheeks. “Ji Hyo-ya, my love, you’re so sweet in the morning.”

She scoffed teasingly and then looked toward the window, seeing the blues of the sky and the ocean meeting together in the distance. Her face fell in sadness. “It looks like a beautiful day outside,” she said, her voice soft.

Gary sighed and sat down beside her in bed. He let his hand drift up and down her back. “We need to get ready,” he said.

“It shouldn’t be so beautiful,” she said. “Not today.”

Kim Jong Kook’s home in Honolulu was just east of the Waikiki area along a quiet stretch of beachfront between two volcanic craters, Diamond Head and Koko, on that southeastern corner of Oahu. It was a large home with warm ivory walls and a terracotta-colored clay tile roof. A light stone path, bordered by tropical plants, led to the front door and around the house to the back lanai, where Jong Kook now stood with his young daughter, Sun Marie, looking over the bright green backyard that rolled out to the beach below.

He remembered when he and Jennifer had first looked at the house. The realtor had told them that lanai was the Hawaiian word for an outside patio area. It was connected to an open-walled inside space, and without that wall or screens separating the two, both the outside and inside seemed to have a natural flow between them. Jennifer had loved that, how natural it was. They had stood together on the lanai that first day, his arm around her as she held her pregnant belly, looking over the green grass and the gold beach and the blue sea, and she had said, in a near whisper, Sun Marie will have a happy life here. Thinking about that moment now brought tears to Jong Kook’s eyes. He squeezed his small eyes closed and held his hands to his mouth as if in prayer, trying to hold back his tears.

Just ahead, near the willow tree with its long, sweeping branch from which hung Sun Marie’s swing, Jong Kook would soon spread Jennifer’s ashes.

Gary and Ji Hyo arrived at Jong Kook’s house late that afternoon. Ji Hyo had packed two different black dresses for the trip, and that morning in the hotel room, she hadn’t been able to decide which to wear. Gary had seen her stressing out and had tried to calm her, but as she cried in his arms with the two dresses draped over her lap, he didn’t know what to say. He knew that it wasn’t really the decision over the dresses that was making her upset, and yet, he could find no words other than those he finally said to her: “Hurry and choose. Just choose one.”

As he and Ji Hyo made their way to the back area of Jong Kook’s house, Gary looked around and commented on how beautiful the home was. Ji Hyo nodded but didn’t look up at the house. She had her head down, her gazed focused on the light stone path leading them to the service out back. She felt terrible about being late.

Gary and Ji Hyo had not visited Jong Kook since he left Korea five years earlier after he and Jennifer were married. Over the years, Jong Kook had invited them out there, and had even offered to pay for their plane tickets, but somehow, life just always got in the way. Between their hectic work schedules, Gary and Ji Hyo barely had enough time even for each other, and a long excursion across the Pacific to that small island of Oahu always seemed too far out of reach; however, they always made time to see Jong Kook when he, Jennifer, and little Sun Marie returned to Korea a few times a year, which they did mostly to visit with Jong Kook’s mom in Anyang. But when Jong Kook’s mom passed away last year, their visits stopped.

Jong Kook’s manager, Kim Gap Jin, had made all of the calls to friends and family members, informing them of Jennifer’s passing. Jong Kook hadn’t been able to do so himself. He was too grief-stricken this past week to do anything but lie in bed. He didn’t eat, he didn’t exercise. He could barely move. If it hadn’t been for Kaimana, their Hawaiian housekeeper, poor Sun Marie would have been practically unattended to. A few days earlier, Sun Marie had climbed into bed with him, yelling for her appa to get up. But as much as he loved her, he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t even look at Sun Marie without seeing traces of Jennifer. Their daughter had Jong Kook’s Asian features, but she had Jennifer’s light gr