Helen L. Patterson, born on February 8, 1924, in Trinidad, Colorado, passed away in Honolulu on February 27, 2017, at the age of 93.

Prior to moving to Hawaii, she had lived mostly in Arizona and California, where she raised three children, Rick, Anna and Lindy.  While raising her children, she went back to college obtaining a Bachelor's then a Master's degree and became a primary school teacher.

Helen was lovely to be with, laughed easily and was a good listener. Her creativity and style were inspirational.

When she retired in Hawaii 23 years ago, she became involved in social activities and will be remembered for reviving the Oahu Chapter of the Hawaii Bead Society and sharing her love for beadwork.

Her children, grandchildren and friends will miss her dearly.

Celebration of her life will take part at the Soka Gakkai International Hawaii Culture Center, 2729 Pali Highway, on March 15, 2017 at 7 pm. Her ashes will be scattered during a private ceremony.



A poem by Birago Diop

Listen to Things
More often than Beings.
Hear the voice of fire,
Hear the voice of water,
Listen in the wind
To the sighs of the bush:
This is the ancestors breathing.

Those who are dead are not ever gone:
They are in the darkness that grows lighter
And in the darkness that grows darker.

The dead are not down in the earth:
They are in the trembling of the trees,
In the groaning of the woods,
In the water that runs,
In the water that sleeps,
They are in the hut, they are in the crowd...
The dead are not dead.

Listen to things
More often than beings.
Hear the voice of fire,
Hear the voice of water,
Listen in the wind,
To the bush that is sighing:
This is the breathing of ancestors
Who have not gone away,
Who are not under earth,
Who are not really dead.

Those who are dead are not ever gone:
They are in a woman's breast,
In the wailing of a child,
And the burning of a log,
In the moaning rock,
In the weeping grasses,
In the forest and the home.

The dead are not dead.
Spirits inhabit
The darkness that lightens,
The darkness that darkens,
The quivering tree,
The murmuring wood,
The water that runs and the water that sleeps.

Spirits much stronger than we
Are the breathing of the dead who are not really dead,
Of the dead who are not really gone,
Of the dead now no more in the earth.

Listen to Things
More often than Beings.
Hear the voice of fire,
Hear the voice of water,
Listen in the wind
To the bush that is sobbing:
This is the ancestors, breathing.