The island - without the issues of today, without problems of governance, without problems of economy - had a feeling of inclusivity.

Five years later I was able to return prior to commencing my academic journey through school years 1-12 and then the university experience.

It was then I was able to play with my brothers, taste the hepbi and scrape the coconut as a five year old.

Twenty one years later, I returned to that calm sea as an adult in a sorrowful situation.

We took off from Momote to the island, and laid our commander and chief to sleep in a peaceful serenade of song.

Nearing dawn the northern skies looked blueish as the sun began to struggle towards the horizon in the crystal clear sea.

And there was that touch of youth, joy, health, happiness and wise rumination. It came across the thousands of years.

The sea was calm as it mostly was, but after 21 years the village huts had changed from leaves of sago and pandanus into corrugated iron roofs and timber, freshly cut, untreated, with the aroma of pakpak.

The sea will always be the guard of the island, the provider of  unique cuisine - the famous giant coconut crab, the beautiful cuscus, the unseen crocodiles that roam.

The sea took away my kin not long ago, but the sea is not the enemy. I do not blame the sea, the sea will always serve its purpose.

Unfortunately, my own brother was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I will always mourn for you, and we will always mourn this very sudden and unexpected event.

We pray to God to always tell us the right way and to grant us mercy.

And we always pray for your beautiful soul, that is with God the almighty. On that golden morning, we shall meet again.

The sea and the serenade, if I was to walk on sea I would sing, One Day at a Time as the island slept and the waves broke into oblivion.

I'll always know you are still with us, as we pray every night for you.

Sing in heaven, sing for joy, sing the chorus, sing the verse. Alle-alle-lu-ia.