--originally written May 5, 2008 (revised here for SC)
Last night, the phone rang. It was Takahashi-san. If Takahashi-san calls, it is never good news, so I braced myself.
"Have you heard, Ishii-san's wife passed away?"
"No, how terrible. I am so sorry to hear that."
"Hasn't anyone contacted you about this?"
"No, I haven't heard a word."
"Oh, dear. I'd better make some phone calls and get back to you."
With those words, I knew: my fate was sealed. She would be calling the neighborhood han ( 班), which meant, only my own untimely death would get me out of whatever was to come.
15 minutes later, she called back:
"You are going to have to go as the representative of our neighborhood." It seems they had had a meeting (via cell phones) of the "upper han leaders" and it was decided that they would send me.
"Don't worry," she says, "I will write you a script."
The next morning, rushing Adonis to the bus, Takahashi-san leaps out of her house and pulling a piece of paper out of her apron, I see when she thrusts it into my hands that she has composed an elaborate and detailed script for me! Starting from exactly what I am to say when the door opens,
"I am here as a representative of the 14th han. Please accept our condolences for your loss and allow me to light a stick of incense for the departed." (Oh, there is a small note, "this is to be said in a voice barely audible")
Then there are highly elaborate (and very much appreciated) stage directions of how to stand at the butsudan,
"Put your hands together and turn to face the bereaved and bow" then turn back to altar and bow, ring bell, pause, bow again. Then, pick up incense stick with right hand with left hand still held vertically in prayer" etc. etc.
**
Don't get me wrong, not only do I prefer Japan in life, but in every way I prefer it here in death as well. I think their rituals and ceremonies concerning death must be a huge comfort not only to the dying-- just knowing that they may be remembered for 49 years must give a dying person tremendous comfort-- but more importantly to those left behind. These ceremonies give grief a form and a voice. No one mourns alone.
**
Clumsy and unendingly lacking in confidence, I dragged Adonis with me since he would be sure to help deflect some of the attention away from me. I mumbled (as instructed) when the door opened and then we were ushered into the living room where a large Buddhist shrine (the butsudan) was placed. The butsudan was quite large and there were huge bouquets of flowers (from the funeral) on either side. Hanging above the butsudan was a picture of his wife.
In complete quiet, first me and then Adonis, sat on the cushion, bowed to the family, lit the incense, rang the bell, prayed and then bowed to the family again. When Adonis (he was six then) took his turn, he did it so quietly and so gracefully that even Ishii-san cracked a smile.
Ishii-san seemed absolutely shell-shocked (in deep mourning).
The rituals will get him through the 49 days ahead-- and then if his daughters want, the 49 years ahead with a small ceremony performed each year on the anniversary of her passing. T's family-- while they aren't big on birthdays or even normal Japanese celebrations, do take these customs surrounding the dead very seriously. It's nothing troublesome or heavy, but rather its just part of the fabric of their life. Whenever we go "home" to Shizuoka, after what is always a brief hello to his parents, we head straight to the Butsudan to pray to T's grandfather (who died before T. was born). Then before we return to Tochigi, we most times will stop by the cemetary to sweep the grave.
I have never met a Japanese who disliked these customs. Just like the marking of the seasons, it seems to fit with the Japanese psyche (and mine too it seems) to incororate loved ones who have passed away into the lives of the living. In a way, it isn't much different than their taking time to go and celebrate the scattering of the cherry blossoms.
**
Looking back, in the end what was interesting to me about this was the way people acted afterward. Kaori and Sachiko were both concerned that I would be tired, since in Japanese events like that are said to "use ki" (気を使う） and "using ki" leads to "tired ki" (気疲れ）. So both Sachiko and Kaori brought over food for dinner so I wouldn't have to cook.
Takahashi-san also came by later to compliment Adonis as she had heard he was a good boy.
Then, maybe a week later, Grandma Kurokawa who lives behind us, caught me as I was watering the flowers in the backyard. Peering over (覗く) the low fence, she said,
"We were all talking about you at our recent elderly association meeting."
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yes, rumor has it that you were a very good representative. Funeral rites and honoring the feelings of those mourning are very important to we elderly, you know. And, we feel good to be leaving the neighborhood in your hands after we are all dead."
"Well, I will try to do my best."
I mean really, what else could I say?
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