The day after my father’s cremation, my sister, step-mother and I stopped to get something to eat at a McDonald’s before the long flight back to the mainland from the island of Kauai.
We’d debated stopping at many places on the way to the airport but none appealed to my step-mother. They were too “native” looking.* Thus, it was Mickey D’s or nothing. She was not happy but back in 2006 the airport on Kauai offered only coffee and donuts. Maybe a pineapple but you get the picture.
At first my step-mother didn’t want to leave the car. She didn’t want a hamburger; she didn’t want fries. She didn’t want anything to drink and she didn’t want to leave my father alone in the car. “Your father didn’t like McDonald’s,” she said. It was a hot, humid day and she’d just spent three days being chauffeured:
- to the beach where he’d died to thank the lifeguards who’d tried to save him
- to the tiny hospital to thank the doctor who declared him dead and whom she hoped had saved the speedo swimsuit he’d died in (don’t ask why – you really don’t want to know)
- to the offices of the island newspaper so she could buy an ad thanking all the people of Kauai she might have forgotten to thank, and finally:
- to the police station to try to expedite the release of his death certificate (they hadn’t even done the autopsy yet). She’d gone bonkers. She needed to eat something other than cookies.
“We’ll bring Dad into the McDonald’s,” I finally said. “He can sit with us.”
“Okay but he’ll insist on paying. That’s just the kind of man he was,” Kathy sniffled, handing me his wallet.
I was exhausted and perhaps a bit hung-over (my sister and I had managed a quick trip to a nearby liquor store) but holding his wallet in my hands it dawned on me that he was gone and all those plastic cards and pieces of paper that were once so necessary were now worthless where he was going, where all of us are going regardless of our immigration status. In the end we are all undocumented aliens.
The funny thing was, the McDonald’s was full of Native Hawaiians who didn’t think that carrying a large urn full of the ashes of a loved one into a fast food joint was at all odd.
Saying nothing in particular 
We may have documents but they’re meaningless where we’re going. They’re mostly meaningless here too unless we’re doing something that requires them. This was an absorbing story; your step-mother sounds…interesting. Was she always like this or was it shock?
I could never figure out my step-mother to tell you the truth. She was good to me and so I tried to be good to her but she had this Southern gentility thing going on that was often way over the top and she thought all dark-skinned people were out to get her.
I may have to keep a little envelope with a few ashes of my father in my wallet when he goes.
Isn’t the saying, if you’re remembered you’re never really dead.
My cousin still has my mother’s ashes sitting in an urn on his mantel – she helped him kick alcoholism and he’s sure he’ll slip without her there. Of course before she died she told us to “let Curt take charge of my ashes and do with them what he will” – I guess she knew. When it comes to dealing with death we all have our … what’s the word … whimsies?
We buried mum and dad so we could plant a tree on top and they would fertilize it. It’s a woodland grave site. When we’ve went back last year for another family funeral and thought we’d pop in to see how their oak was getting on we couldn’t find which was the right tree. They’d all grown and it looked very different (doh!). Oh well, I guess they’re still there somewhere.
We did the same thing with my father – in a park near where he lived in Reno Nevada.It wasn’t what he wanted. My step mother remembered … after the cremation … that he’d wanted his body donated to science. Ah well, she said. Ah well indeed, we replied.
I think this is such a good idea, to “plant a tree on top: and return to the dirt
Along time ago I wrote, we are all going home. I really hate that line now since home turns out to be one of the most conservative, MAGA towns in the country. Poor pitiful me. Really excellent piece of writing. Making death humourous is difficult.b Thanks. Duke
Thanks Duke. Everyone who knew my father agreed, he left on his own terms. At his memorial his old flying buddies all snarled “The old bastard pulled it off!” as many of them were already confined to walkers.
Texas ruby red state Senate seat flipped by Democrat yesterday. The shocking thing is, the union guy won by 18 points! Special election. Maybe my above comment is not as bad as I thought. Weasel Governor Abbott is not sleeping tonight I can assure you. Duke
I saw that this morning! Texas is going to be the real test, I think. Keep in mind that thousands of Californians have been forced to relocate to Texas because their employers have moved there for tax reasons.
Grief can do strange things to people. It was very good of you to cater to her needs, odd though they may have been.
I totally relate to you being brought up short by your dad’s wallet. I did the exact same thing when my mother passed. Those cards and IDs once so vital, now irrelevant. It’s very poignant.
*hugs*
Thanks Rivergirl. Hugs back.
A McDonald’s in Hawaii seems so out of place, intrusive even. Funny how we visit a place for its authenticity and then complain when it’s ‘too native.’ There are many treasures and tidbits of wisdom in this piece, Jan. Even the funny bits were enlightening.
Thank you! At that time it was a popular place for Hawaiian families – inexpensive and fast, with toys for the kids and outdoor seating. They don’t grow potatoes or raise cattle on Kauai! (and not too many tourists go to the islands for a Big Mac!)
I love the humour you wrote into this post. It’s one of your best. Death is a serious subject, but laughter makes it much more acceptable and tells us that life will go on without us if we choose to stay.
Thanks Hugh. At times like those, humor is the only way to survive. Besides my father hated sentimentality!
Hi! I’m sorry for not visiting in so long, Jan. Condolences on losing your father. I am very sorry for your loss. Lovely post, a mix of sadness with humor which is key to getting through during these times. Indeed, one day our immigration status will not matter. Take care!
No problem. I’ve been having my own problems “getting around!” I think to keep a civilization running we do need some system of identification but it shouldn’t be the only thing we judge people on. My father passed some time ago but those three days on the island were so surrealistic that I keep going back to them.
Hi Jan, I read your response to the comment below so I know your father’s passing was some time ago. I think we go into emotional shock when a beloved person dies or is very sick. When my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2026 I could not speak about it to anyone for two weeks. I also could barely eat. My stomach was on a ball the entire time. It was only after the mastectomy I started coping again.
Hi Robbie. it sounds like you were in shock. We all react differently in these circumstances – I was just trying to hold things together, get things done, focus. We spend so much time and effort getting these important papers and then in an instant – poof, they are meaningless.
I know, it is almost surreal when it happens. Hugs.
Yes, I agree Jan. We are all equally here. Documentation doesn’t mean anything in the larger scheme.
“Time makes equals of us all”.
Love that your dad’s urn went to MacDonalds, and was welcome!
The Hawaiians have a different approach todeath – at the funeral home there were picnic tables set out on the lawn, a playground for the kids, and chickens running all around.
That sounds very cool.
It sounds like an Irish wake. Of course, I don’t know if the Hawaiians get as drunk.
The majority of native Hawaiians live just above the poverty line in multi-generational homes. I’ve heard that they make their own version of moonshine liquor (and then there is of course Maui Wowee!)
Interesting. Are they a happy people?
They definitely get into the spirit of celebrating life but they’ve got their troubles just like all of us.
Thank you for letting me know!
Other cultures have different approaches to death. I’ve seen wakes in Mexico turn into huge parties… Not disrespectful at all, just celebrating the deaprted…
Brian, we have celebrations of life in our fam – but your comment reminded me of what we saw when we were out walking the dogs one evening.
My husband heard a horn in the distance. It grew closer. We then encountered a funeral procession. One older white pick up truck, with what looked like the coffin in the back – with a lot of decor, and about a handful of folks – and a speaker playing the song in a loop (it was great piece of music) – and behind the truck walked about 100 people of all ages. It was a hispanic crowd and police escorts were there. It was one of the most beautiful funeral processions I have encountered.
The answer to your question is yes, we are. Did you find any Spam at McDonald’s? That was a shock for me when I went to a McDonald’s in Oahu and they were serving Spam—it was so good! Thank you for sharing this story about your dad. I know it’s difficult to think about those moments, but you always do it in such a wonderful way.
I don’t remember – probably not. In fact I don’t remember running into any spam dishes on Kauai – Oahu … definitely.
Wow, that’s interesting. I wonder if it’s only in Oahu. They even have them at 7-Eleven.
Oh, I’m sure that some places on Kauai serve spam but we just didn’t run into any!
Hi JT – the feeling of the wallet was very sobering and by the way, when we were in Kauai, I thought of you and wondered if you liked the vanilla you ordered from there, it was from there, eh?
The vanilla is excellent – I’m using it very sparingly!
mmmm – and if it is such good quality, you probably need less
🙂
Yes, absolute outsiders!
This reminds me so much of my brothers wallet, when we lost him it was so strange to think his whole life was held in it, i always felt like i had a poem trapped trying to put that into words 💙
Also just published my first ever blog tonight (after much deliberation) and this is the first article that was suggested, … he loved Macci Ds too 🙂
This flips the whole idea of belonging on its head and really makes you rethink what it means to be “home.” 🌍
Well, it’s exit route for all of us. Some are lucky to exit via Macdonalds. Document are needed yes, that’s how the world works but thankfully we don’t need a passport or visa to cross the line. Empty handed and no stress
It felt a bit irreverent taking Dad in any form into a MacDonalds but … in an instance old prejudices mean absolutely nothing!
So touching and deep 🖤 made me reflect on life, identity, and what really matters 💭✨
Thank you.
Truthfully, none of us is native to this planet so you are correct. We all come from somewhere else. By the way, your photo of the beach has at least 5 shuttles up in the sky behind the clouds. You had company that day! lol I lost my Mom in 2021 , so I can relate to how hard that trip had to be. God bless.
Interesting – I will check that out. Thanks. I’d wanted to return to that beach for a long time and so it felt like a promise kept. And I was happy to see that over the years it has stayed the same. Sorry to hear about your Mom – I lost mine in 2020 – Covid made everything so much worse during that time, didn’t it?
Mom was sick for a number of years before she returned home. She had “Supranuclear Palsy” which is actually a viral illness. I really couldn’t think much of covid until after. May I ask what happened to your Mom?
My mother was 94 and really had not taken care of herself for years. Covid finally did her in. Plus the loss of a childhood friend – I wrote about it here https://jttwissel.com/2025/05/05/the-anchor-2/
We absolutely are! All humans matter, and we all deserve rights inherently
Oddly touching and vulnerable post.
Thank you.
This is truly a beautiful piece. I would do the same!
Thank you Tina! So kind of you to read.
Impactful. This was the word that first came to mind when I reached the sudden but gentle twist: “…that he was gone…”, and the big statement to describe our life: “…all those plastic cards… …were now worthless” You had me teary-eyed, not from sorrow but for admiration of how you meet life.
Thank you for that lovely comment. It was a shocking moment.
Ok, now I’ll have to pen an addendum to my will. “No taking my ashes to any fast food joints”. That can join the instructions of no jet travel, no spreading my ashes on a remote beach.
My daughters roll their eyes when I tell them not to even bother with an urn. That a Chinese Takeout box will serve just fine. In the end, they will do what they want, whatever my instructions say. When have they ever listened?
Thanks for sharing your charming post.
This is true! We were driving away from the mortuary where smoke was rising from the kiln and the workers were anxious to start the process when my step mother rose from her stupor and said “Oh, Bob wanted his body to be donated to science!” Needless to say, we did not offer to turn around and try to stop the process! That whole trip was so bizarre and there we were in paradise.
Good question. Without addressing the question of immigration, why do we need to register ourselves with the government in the first place? Aren’t we free people, not cattle? Cattle have numbers and ear tags; we have social security numbers and birth certificates. Personally I do not want to be tracked. The people who need to know, know who & where I am. The government is not in that group, as far as I am concerned. What right do they even have to hold onto that information?
I think that there’s nothing wrong with a government tracking its citizens for census purposes – how many schools are needed and hospitals, etc., but I think tracking things like religion, culture, social status and party affiliation leads to deep divisions. And in the end those things mean nothing anyway. Or at least all those little pieces of paper are useless! Nice to meet you Blue Jay.
Interesting
Thanks!