Kontou

What a strange thing to lose someone close and not feel a thing. The shame I felt for so long. What was wrong with me? I felt nothing but emptiness. The only time I cried was when my older brother came to the hospital to see my mom but couldn't come into the room. It wouldn't be the last time she would be there but it was one of the last few. I saw him standing in the hallway and I put my arm around him. He was crying and it made me cry.

I don't know what triggered it later. This overwhelming feeling of grief. I have no control over it. Sometimes it happens for no reason. I will be sitting with friends at work and I feel the tears. Movies, pictures, events, families doing things. I never know when it will happen. I just know it hurts. It makes me remember all the things me and my mom did together. I remember borrowing her car when I was 20 and my mom wanted to come with me because she didn't trust my driving. I drove for a living but at that moment I felt like a child. All those things I would never get to ask my mom. One time on my way to visit my dad I remember wanting to ask her something about my childhood. I had forgotten she had passed away. The past few years I refused to think about it. Then it seemed like everyone I was close to were in the hospital. My friends grandmother passed away. I was lucky to be with her in her last days. She was like a second mother to me.

I know I am not the only one to experience loss but I can't help feeling alone.

Shotou

I remember being a child and sitting on the floor. I wrote my letters on my little handy chalk board. Those days we would spend together with her reading from my books. It's such a strange thing growing up in a Japanese household. There is a certain order in everything you do. I don't mean sequences but a sense of what is proper. As a child you pick it up quickly without thinking. "Come hear." I would run with my little legs. "Sit now." I would sit down. I was loved my whole life but there was order. All those years my father was overseas fighting a war. The only thing I knew about him was letter time. "What do you want to tell your daddy?" I would talk about all the things we did that day.

It would seem to an outsider that it was a strange way to raise a child. Even though I have two younger brothers I don't recall them being with us. My moms attention was always on me. Fixing my hair or tucking in my shirt. My mom had to be mother and father to us back then.

As I grew older things did change. Even though I was the 2nd oldest son I was the one that was home the most. My older brother is four years older than I am and was always working. I was lucky to spend a lot of time with my mom. I loved coming home at dusk and sitting at the garden with my mom.

My mom would sometimes let me try traditional Japanese food that she thought I wouldn't like. I don't remember the names but it made me open minded when it comes to food.

And then a few years ago my mom got sick. My next youngest brother lived at home and helped take her to the hospital. At first it was rare but that wouldn't last. I moved home to find work after I finished school. I saw first hand the delirium and the terrible state she would get into. I picked her up from her bed and carried her to the car. She would grab the sofa or the doorway yelling I was trying to kill her. I saw her go from being an active senior who loved to garden to someone who would sit at the window and watch her garden wither. She became scared to leave the house for worry that something bad would happen.

My mom was a strong woman. She had left her country to come to a strange land where she barely spoke the language. She made the best of what she had and found ways to make a lot out of little. She found the strength to go against convention and live her last years the way she wanted to. Her health got better and she seemed to even look more youthful. Her final days were lived like any other. She was in so much pain though. The doctors had given her morphine to take but I never heard her complain. She passed away in her sleep. I was glad to be there.

You've Reached Your Destination

I calmly waited for her to hand me the paper. It was a map of the peak that I had climbed. Across the top was a strange set of markers. Square blocks without bottoms. "Nothing important there." I thought. Then I looked at the lower half. I gazed at the peaks and valleys. They were all so small except the one. The one that I had climbed. Mine stood towering about the rest.

It's a strange thing to have a stranger tell you were you've been for the past 6 years. How could she have known? All those miles I traveled. All those roads that passed through my mind. She told me all of them. Concise and revealing. She knew every twist and turn. The details were missing but I couldn't deny the truth of it.

It all came rushing back to me. All the things I had seen and done. The weight I had carried. Her words stripped me bare. I could tell she had pieced together the rest of the details from what little I had told her. She now realized the pain that had forced me to climb that peak.

And now here I stand at the top. Alone.

Thick and Thin

Japanese cranes mate for life. How do they know if they have the right mate? They dance for each other. They show the best that they have to offer. And the bad side of mating? There is none. They only show the best. They dance together. They mimic each other until they are in sync. Together, in rhythm they dance. Together. They only know the best they each have. Pure white. Deep red. Contrasting black. Beauty. Together. In rhythm. For life.