The passing of both our parents marked a profound shift within our family. The shared grief served as an unexpected catalyst, drawing us closer together in ways we never could have imagined. The walls that had separated us for so long began to crumble, replaced by a newfound understanding and compassion.

In the wake of their deaths, we found ourselves compelled to set aside our differences and judgmental ways. The petty grievances and lingering resentments that had defined our relationships seemed insignificant in the face of such profound loss. We realized that family was not just about blood ties but about the shared history, the shared experiences, and the unwavering support that bound us together.

Taupou, in particular, became a source of comfort for me. We would sit together, reminiscing about our parents, sharing stories that evoked both laughter and tears. We found solace in each other's company, realizing that our shared experiences, though marked by loss, also held the healing potential.

We remembered the silly quirks of our parents, the little traditions that had shaped our childhood and the hardship we had to endure with them that made us the person we are today. We laughed about the few funny memories of my dad. We reminisced about my mother's unwavering faith that could drive a person insane and her tireless dedication to our family.

Through these late-night conversations and shared tears, we forged a bond that transcended our past grievances. We learned to appreciate the unique paths that had shaped us, recognizing that our differences were not barriers but rather threads that wove our family tapestry.

The process wasn't always easy. There were moments of awkwardness and discomfort, reminders of the past hurts that still lingered beneath the surface. But we persevered, driven by a desire to heal the wounds that had festered for so long.

Slowly, we began to see each other in a new light. Taupou, the strict and disciplined sister, revealed a vulnerable side that she is still trying to heal. Tuiga, the silent soft sister, admits to having a deep-seated fear of failing to live up to our parents' expectations. I, the rebellious and defiant Carefree youngest sister, learned to relax, to appreciate her unwavering commitment and responsibilities to family without panicking at the thought of being held back.

We realized that we had all been struggling in our own ways, each carrying our own burdens, each trying to navigate the complexities of life as best as we could. We learned to offer each other forgiveness, not as a way of condoning past actions but as a way of releasing the weight of resentment and moving forward with a lighter spirit.

In the end, it was the love and support we offered each other that helped us navigate the tumultuous waters of grief, ultimately leading us to a place of unity and strength. We emerged from the storm battered and bruised but also more resilient, more compassionate, and more deeply connected than ever before. The loss of our parents had left a void in our lives, but it had also created space for a new kind of love, a love that was rooted in understanding, forgiveness, and unwavering support. We were a family, bound together not just by blood but by a shared history, a shared pain, and a shared commitment to healing and growth.