In our Cada Dia Spanish class last week, one of our new vocabulary words was «inexplicable», which looks exactly like the English word but of course, is pronounced differently. Basically, though, it has the same meaning: something impossible to explain, incapable of being explained, interpreted, or accounted for.

We were then asked to give some examples of events that had happened in our families and after I thought about it for a bit, I thought I would talk about the time my husband, Carl, went on tour with the Compline Choir to Russia (those times were really different back then and going to Russia was not so fraught with danger!)

A few days after driving him to the airport I had a dream that he said he had forgotten something and I actually felt the bed move as he got up to get it! But when I opened my eyes, of course he was not there, because he was in Russia! Yet the sensation of him being there with me was so vivid, and so realistic — a phenomenon called visitation which has happened to me several times since he died over nine years ago.

But I never got to tell the class the story because the teachers did not call on me for that question. So I thought that I would share it with my afternoon Spanish conversation club : five of us women who meet daily to speak in Spanish.

I asked my lifelong friend, Sue Haas, who is part of our Spanish conversation club, if she wanted to share any inexplicable events in her life and she first asked everyone if they had seen an obake moth. (Japanese obake = Ghost)

Here’s a picture of one, in case you’re not familiar with it.

If you can’t already tell by the picture, these guys are ginormous ! Some of them have a wingspan of over six inches and seeing one can be quite terrifying. Their official scientific name is Ascalapha odorata.

Sue had an obake moth story to tell us. The date was August 28, 2014, and I was at St. Francis hospice facility in Ewa Beach with my sister-in-law Carol Rodi, as we waited round the bedside of my husband, Carl, who had fallen into a coma at the end of his battle with pancreatic cancer. Sue and her husband, Frank, asked if there was anything I needed, and I asked them to bring me some clean clothes and some papers that had to be signed and notarized, assigning me sole ownership of our businesses.

Sue and Frank found the clothes and papers at my apartment and on the way back to the hospice facility, she needed to stop by her office in Gentry Design Center, now called Nā Lama Kukui. If you are familiar with the building it has a open air atrium and it’s not uncommon to see birds fly in and out of the building.

All of a sudden, Sue became aware of an obake moth hovering above her. As she walked down a long corridor, the moth started following her which was quite strange as the hallway was dark. Aren’t moths usually drawn to the light?! As she walked faster and faster, the obake moth picked up speed, seeming to chase her.

And then it happened… the moth landed on her shoulder! In that moment she knew it was Carl saying goodbye and that he was gone.

When she and Frank arrived back at the hospice facility, Carol and I told them Carl had just passed.

…oh my heart!

These types of moths are found in tropical areas and are also known as the Butterfly of Death (la mariposa de la muerte in Mexico) or a lost soul that is not at rest in Jamaica. However, in Hawaii there is a more happy interpretation of these insects and the presence of the obake moth means that a loved one is saying goodbye.

To be honest. I certainly had seen obake moths before but I didn’t know about this Hawaiian legend until I heard Sue’s story and read about it on Wikipedia.

Sue waited nine years to tell me this story; she thought I would be too upset. On the contrary, it’s very comforting, yet unexplainable.

¡Qué inexplicable!