It had been 15 years since I had had seen my parents when I came home last June. The last time I came home for a visit, I was still in college.
It was very difficult to see my parents looking so old. Somehow, Japan and everyone I knew in it had been suspended in time in my mind during those years, yet in reality, those 15 years certainly had taken their toll on everyone, myself included.
I was going to come back here, live here for a while, then going off again to some place to "continue my journey"... but how can you leave behind the ones you care about when you know they need you? Looks like I am here for a long stay this time.
This past Sunday, I drove Mina, an elderly friend of mine who, with her late husband, had raised me until I started elementary school, to a place called Gunma Flower Park in Gunma prefecture which is about an hour drive from where I live.
Mina had just turned 85 last winter and she loves flowers. We strolled around the park looking at the pretty flowers and had lunch of Soba noodles. With her husband gone, she doesn't get to go anywhere these days and she looked like she was having a great time.
On our drive back, we drove through a town called Omama. Mina mentioned that there was a man in this neighborhood she knew, a fellow who used to go around in his truck selling goldfish.
Mina and her husband were big animal lovers back when I used to live with them. They, in addition to cats, dogs and fish, at one point, even had a pet monkey! They used to be good customers of the goldfish guy she just calls "Ojichan". He would drive to the neighborhood in Ashikaga where we lived and he was quite well-known among the people in the area. Once every few weeks when he came around, there would be a bunch of people from the neighborhood gathered around his truck just to look at the pretty goldfish. I was too young to remember him but when I asked my parents that night, they remembered the man with goldfish very well.
Anyway, Mina was familiar with the town from the many trips she and her husband made to this area and she was trying to show me where the man used to have his shop.
When we turned a corner she said, "That's it!" and pointed to the left.... and there it was.
The building was looking VERY old and there was a sign that simply said 窶ｹﾃ?窶ｹ窶ｺ( Kingyo-Goldfish) in faded paint. The shop looked like it was still in business as I could see some fish tanks with goldfish in them inside a very small and cluttered storefront.
Mina wanted to stop and go inside. I had mixed feelings about it because there was a very good chance that the man had already passed away and she would be very sad.
The moment I stopped the engine, she got right out of the car and headed for the shop. She was almost running. I followed her into the shop as she was calling out "窶堋ｨ窶堋ｶ窶堋ｿ窶堙｡窶堙ｱ！窶堋｢窶堙ｩ窶堙ｱ窶堋ｩ窶堋｢？*"（Ojichan! Are you there? *Gunma dialect). There was no answer for a long moment but when she called out for the second time, an old man appeared from the back. He looked like he had just dragged himself out of bed.
"窶堋ｨ窶堋ｶ窶堋ｿ窶堙｡窶堙ｱ 窶堋ｩ窶堋｢？ 窶堋ｨ窶堋ｶ窶堋ｿ窶堙｡窶堙ｱ 窶堋ｾ窶堙ｫ？"（Is that you, Ojichan? It's you, isn't it?)
Pointing to herself, "窶伉ｫ窶藩懌?堙姑置ﾆ椎?ﾆ鱈窶ｰｮ窶堋ｾ窶堙ｦ！ 静娯?堙ｦ窶堋ｭ窶ｹﾃ?窶ｹ窶ｺ窶昶?樞?堙ｨ窶堙俄?堋ｫ窶堋ｽ窶堙ｱ窶堙猟？" ( The whitesmith from Ashikaga! You used to come to sell goldfish, remember?)
For a few moments, he didn't recognize her. After all, they had not seen each other for over 35 years after Mina's family moved to Ota.
Then he remembered. "ﾆ蓄ﾆ段窶堋ｿ窶堙｡窶堙ｱ窶堋ｾ！" (It's Mina-chan!)
It turns out his wife had passed away 10 years ago and he has been living alone ever since. His legs don't quite work any more and he spends most of his days lying down except for when he has a customer, which is not that often. He can barely take care of the fish that he sells.
His has a son who lives in Nagoya but he never visits.
I left them alone and went to have a smoke outside by my car. By the time I came back, they were both in tears reminiscing about the old times. Right before we left, Mina was telling Ojichan that she would come see him again and he was saying how great it was to see her.
Back in my car, Mina said that she didn't think they would see each other again. I told her I would bring her back there so they'd be able to have another visit very soon but she said she didn't really want to. I think it just made her too sad to see someone whom she had remembered to be a man full of life looking old, fragile and so alone and sad. Looking back on the good old times made the present even more painful.
This really broke my heart. What I saw in two of them was my parents, my uncle and my aunt not too far in the future.... and my brother and myself one day.
I have known for a long time that we all eventually get old, but it is just now that I'm beginning to understand what that really is like.
Just to think I thought I had it all figured out when I established my life away from home in a foreign country, preaching to anyone who asked about how I was living my life, doing my own thing.... when I didn't know poop. Being away from my people somehow made me forget that there was these empty spots that I need to fill in other people's lives that are somehow connected to mine.
I wish from the bottom of my heart that every elderly person is happy in the last years of his/her life, and I couldn't be more grateful that I was able to come home in time so I can do what little I can for a few people around me who are entering that stage in their lives.
It was very difficult to see my parents looking so old. Somehow, Japan and everyone I knew in it had been suspended in time in my mind during those years, yet in reality, those 15 years certainly had taken their toll on everyone, myself included.
I was going to come back here, live here for a while, then going off again to some place to "continue my journey"... but how can you leave behind the ones you care about when you know they need you? Looks like I am here for a long stay this time.
This past Sunday, I drove Mina, an elderly friend of mine who, with her late husband, had raised me until I started elementary school, to a place called Gunma Flower Park in Gunma prefecture which is about an hour drive from where I live.
Mina had just turned 85 last winter and she loves flowers. We strolled around the park looking at the pretty flowers and had lunch of Soba noodles. With her husband gone, she doesn't get to go anywhere these days and she looked like she was having a great time.
On our drive back, we drove through a town called Omama. Mina mentioned that there was a man in this neighborhood she knew, a fellow who used to go around in his truck selling goldfish.
Mina and her husband were big animal lovers back when I used to live with them. They, in addition to cats, dogs and fish, at one point, even had a pet monkey! They used to be good customers of the goldfish guy she just calls "Ojichan". He would drive to the neighborhood in Ashikaga where we lived and he was quite well-known among the people in the area. Once every few weeks when he came around, there would be a bunch of people from the neighborhood gathered around his truck just to look at the pretty goldfish. I was too young to remember him but when I asked my parents that night, they remembered the man with goldfish very well.
Anyway, Mina was familiar with the town from the many trips she and her husband made to this area and she was trying to show me where the man used to have his shop.
When we turned a corner she said, "That's it!" and pointed to the left.... and there it was.
The building was looking VERY old and there was a sign that simply said 窶ｹﾃ?窶ｹ窶ｺ( Kingyo-Goldfish) in faded paint. The shop looked like it was still in business as I could see some fish tanks with goldfish in them inside a very small and cluttered storefront.
Mina wanted to stop and go inside. I had mixed feelings about it because there was a very good chance that the man had already passed away and she would be very sad.
The moment I stopped the engine, she got right out of the car and headed for the shop. She was almost running. I followed her into the shop as she was calling out "窶堋ｨ窶堋ｶ窶堋ｿ窶堙｡窶堙ｱ！窶堋｢窶堙ｩ窶堙ｱ窶堋ｩ窶堋｢？*"（Ojichan! Are you there? *Gunma dialect). There was no answer for a long moment but when she called out for the second time, an old man appeared from the back. He looked like he had just dragged himself out of bed.
"窶堋ｨ窶堋ｶ窶堋ｿ窶堙｡窶堙ｱ 窶堋ｩ窶堋｢？ 窶堋ｨ窶堋ｶ窶堋ｿ窶堙｡窶堙ｱ 窶堋ｾ窶堙ｫ？"（Is that you, Ojichan? It's you, isn't it?)
Pointing to herself, "窶伉ｫ窶藩懌?堙姑置ﾆ椎?ﾆ鱈窶ｰｮ窶堋ｾ窶堙ｦ！ 静娯?堙ｦ窶堋ｭ窶ｹﾃ?窶ｹ窶ｺ窶昶?樞?堙ｨ窶堙俄?堋ｫ窶堋ｽ窶堙ｱ窶堙猟？" ( The whitesmith from Ashikaga! You used to come to sell goldfish, remember?)
For a few moments, he didn't recognize her. After all, they had not seen each other for over 35 years after Mina's family moved to Ota.
Then he remembered. "ﾆ蓄ﾆ段窶堋ｿ窶堙｡窶堙ｱ窶堋ｾ！" (It's Mina-chan!)
It turns out his wife had passed away 10 years ago and he has been living alone ever since. His legs don't quite work any more and he spends most of his days lying down except for when he has a customer, which is not that often. He can barely take care of the fish that he sells.
His has a son who lives in Nagoya but he never visits.
I left them alone and went to have a smoke outside by my car. By the time I came back, they were both in tears reminiscing about the old times. Right before we left, Mina was telling Ojichan that she would come see him again and he was saying how great it was to see her.
Back in my car, Mina said that she didn't think they would see each other again. I told her I would bring her back there so they'd be able to have another visit very soon but she said she didn't really want to. I think it just made her too sad to see someone whom she had remembered to be a man full of life looking old, fragile and so alone and sad. Looking back on the good old times made the present even more painful.
This really broke my heart. What I saw in two of them was my parents, my uncle and my aunt not too far in the future.... and my brother and myself one day.
I have known for a long time that we all eventually get old, but it is just now that I'm beginning to understand what that really is like.
Just to think I thought I had it all figured out when I established my life away from home in a foreign country, preaching to anyone who asked about how I was living my life, doing my own thing.... when I didn't know poop. Being away from my people somehow made me forget that there was these empty spots that I need to fill in other people's lives that are somehow connected to mine.
I wish from the bottom of my heart that every elderly person is happy in the last years of his/her life, and I couldn't be more grateful that I was able to come home in time so I can do what little I can for a few people around me who are entering that stage in their lives.
