Grief doesn’t wait for the right moment. It doesn’t come one piece at a time.

It all came at once.

We were already trying to process the loss of my sister a pain that still doesn’t feel real some days. There are moments I catch myself thinking I can still call her, still hear her voice… and then reality sets in all over again. That kind of loss doesn’t fade. It just becomes something you carry. And then the Kona floods hit.

The day everything changed felt unreal, like watching our life be pulled away from us in real time. The water came fast, faster than we could fully understand in the moment. Things we depended on every day were suddenly gone or destroyed. Our vehicle—our way to get to work, to provide, to move forward was completely lost. It wasn’t just damage. It was our stability.

In the middle of the chaos, we lost our puppy too.

We tried to save him. That’s the part that stays with me the most—we tried. But the water was too strong, and in a moment he was just… gone. The silence in our home now feels heavier than anything I can put into words.

It’s hard to explain what it feels like when everything hits at once—grieving someone you love deeply, while also trying to rebuild your life from physical loss and damage. There’s no time to stop and process it. You just keep going because you have to.

Right now, we are doing everything we can to hold things together. To find some kind of normal again. But we are struggling.

Any support you give is more than just financial help. It helps us take a step forward when everything feels like it’s been pulled out from under us. It helps us begin to rebuild—not just what we’ve lost, but a sense of stability and hope.

If you’re able to give, even a little, it truly means more than words can express.

Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring