We seldom got to see my brother's children. As in most Chinese families, a son is "lost" to his wife's side of the family after he marries. My niece and nephew entered the house first, and as usual we greeted them with oo's and ah's.

My nephew, the most handsome six-year-old I knew, greeted his aunts with hugs and kisses. The attention shifted when his sister,just over a year and a half,made her entrance into the family room. All eyes shifted to her, the most darling child I had ever seen. Her brother, I could see, conceded center stage to her.

Popo shouted from the kitchen, "Anybody want some turkey?" The reply was a resounding "No" from my sister-in-law, because they were on their way to dinner and she did not want the children spoiling their appetites. Understandable, but my niece's eyes lit up when she heard the offer, and I suspected she would get her way. My brother - a pushover since he was a kid - submitted to his daughter's wish and allowed her to chomp heartily on a drumstick.

In her Christmas dress and white lace socks, she stood on Goong-goong's recliner with turkey all over her hands and face. My brother next to her was feverishly wiping her down while my sister-in- law glared at him for his indiscretion.

My sister's two sons, bored by what was going on, ran up the hallway to the back room to play on their Nintendo game system. After all, it was Christmas and they welcomed the opportunity to play with their new game cartridges. My sister took my other nephew by the hand and led him to the room to play with his cousins while his sister continued devouring the drumstick.

Single with no children, I sat back watching the family dynamics take place, breathing a sigh of relief that I had not contributed to the pandemonium. Actually, I was thanking my lucky stars that all I would be leaving with that night were leftovers. All of this had occurred within a span of fifteen minutes. I sensed that it would soon be time for them to leave, and my instincts did not fail me. Right at that moment, my sister-in-law nodded at my brother, and then said, "We'd better go before we're late."

Such a short visit. I loved seeing the children. It felt so unfair to be able to watch them grow up in only fifteen-minute increments a few times a year. We said good-bye and wished them a Merry Christmas. Now I heard the sounds of their arrival in reverse, and I was saddened by the sounds that fifteen short minutes ago had brought so much joy. I was missing them already and anticipating the next time I would see them again. The distance didn't matter as they would always be a part of me and I a part of them. Little did I know just how much that would mean in a few short months.

----II----
Christmas Day 1995 was the last time I saw my niece and nephew until March 1, 1996. It was a Sunday, and my sister and I were at my parents' home. The telephone rang. I remember answering it. It was my older brother. He was calling from the Kapi`olani Medical Center for Women and Children. He was calling to tell us that my niece, Alana, had been diagnosed with leukemia. Gasping in disbelief, I asked, "How could this be?" He had no answer. There was silence on the other end. How could he explain to me something he himself could not understand? I gave the phone to Popo. I remember thinking, "This didn't happen to us, it happened to other people."

Just as we had come together on Christmas Day in 1995, we would come together again this day in March 1996 and our lives would be changed forever. We were about to undergo a transformation in our lives, we were about to participate in a phenomenon, and we were about to come together not only as a family, but as a community trying to save one little girl's life.

Alana's prognosis meant she would need a bone marrow transplant to save her life. She needed a donor who would be a perfect match and she needed one soon. She had been diagnosed with acute myeloid, type M-7 leukemia, a type rarely found in children. It was an aggressive form of leukemia and time was a vital factor.

The search for a donor began with Alana's immediate family. My brother, his wife, and my nephew were tested and none of them was the perfect match the doctors were hoping for. This would be one of many disappointments that would occur over the next 19 months. The next step required that all family members be tested, family members including sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins, both here in Hawai'i and on the mainland. Our families numbered close to 100 people or 100 possible matches. I sensed that we all hoped to be the perfect match, to be the one who might save Alana's life. None of us matched.

The search for a match continued and went as far as the family village in China. Still, no match. Out of despair, the family made a plea to the people of Hawai`i to come out and be tested, and the people answered in staggering numbers, which forced us to set up locations large enough to handle the crowds of people who wanted to help, help that came in the form of 800 volunteers and over 30,000 donors over a period of six weeks and 42 bone marrow drives. We witnessed an extended family coming together to help one of their own and an outpouring of love from the community. But no match yet. Finally, a few days after Alana's second birthday, we received news of a possible match in Taiwan. The word "joy" took on a new meaning, and we all took a breath knowing this was a first step.

Alana kept her spirits high throughout her treatment, treatment that included numerous rounds of chemotherapy, unrelenting blood tests, and long hospital stays. She showed an admirable amount of courage, strength, and power. Impressive qualities for someone of such a tender age.

Her condition did not allow frequent visits from friends or family. She needed to be kept away from exposure to possible germs, as her immune system would not be able to fight off any infections. If staying away meant she would get well, then we could wait until we could be with her.

We waited for word that the donor had cleared all the tests necessary in order to give the lifesaving marrow that Alana needed. The result was positive. On June 4,1996, Alana and her family flew to Seattle's Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center to prepare for the bone marrow transplant that would take place on July 17,1996.

----III----
Our family went to Seattle to spend a few days with Alana before her transplant, coming together to offer love and support to one another. The transplant went well except for one setback, a potential infection, and she re-entered the hospital for two weeks of observation. After the danger passed, the doctors discharged her to recover in her temporary home in Seattle.

A few months passed and on November 14,1996, Alana returned home to Hawai`i. Despite encouraging reports from Seattle, her condition still required as sterile an environment as possible. Our visits consisted of seeing her through the window, waving to her, and throwing kisses. Then on Christmas Day 1996, she made her first public appearance at the Aloha Bowl game at the Halawa Stadium.

We celebrated another Christmas together. Things continued to go well and then in March 1997 my brother called and told us that the leukemia had returned. We were devastated. The doctors advised that another transplant would not cure her; it would be too risky. We spent whatever moments we could with her as we knew she did not have much time left with us and we celebrated her third birthday on May 20, 1997. Then, on October 14, 1997, we gathered at my brother's home to say our final good-bye to the little girl with turkey all over her face and hands, to the little girl with courage, strength and power, to the little girl who had transformed our lives, to the little girl who created a phenomenon in Hawai`i's history, and to the little girl who brought together a family that extended across the state.

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