… And a funeral

Yes, I am well aware that I have been neglecting my blog. I’m sorry. Life here has been very hectic, what with school, my parents’ visit and some of my own homework. I’m actually very much looking forward to the end of November. Remind me sometime, I owe you some posts and pictures about Hong Kong, Nikko and Halloween. For now though, I am actually resorting to this forum more as an act of catharsis than to keep friends and family in the loop.

A few hours ago I returned home after attending a Japanese, Buddhist funeral. I was there among the mourners.

The experience of being part of the school community has been wonderful and an honour. It’s been a pleasure to share in the learning, the achievements and celebrations; even taking part in the cleaning activities is a joy. But sometimes there is struggle, loss and sorrow. For Ota Girls’ High School, that time is now.

Over the weekend, the school’s office manager was found dead. I wish I knew enough to be able to articulate the details but with language issues and a mysterious story to begin with, there isn’t much to tell you. He went missing several days ago. I understood something about a strange car accident, and head trauma. There was an autopsy, but it was inconclusive. What is certain is that the man I called Jimmy Joe San (Jim Cho San) is gone and we are all feeling his loss.

Jim Cho San (his work title) was very good to me. He spent hours going over reams of paperwork when I first arrived to secure my new apartment, he organized a fabulous office party to welcome me to the school (honestly, it could have been my bat-mitzvah, it felt that special), he had a reassuring presence and a wonderful smile. And, although language was a barrier, we communicated often about many things. He was one of my guardians at the school.

And, for all of this I owed him much thanks. I did thank him regularly, but I had intended these last few weeks to find a special gift to let him know I really appreciated everything he had done. Now, it is too late.

I feel guilty. I feel guilty for feeling guilty, as if I somehow have twisted this horrible situation to be about my bad feelings. Perhaps I should think about it this way: Life is very precious and very fragile. We never know when someone may enter our life or leave it. We should take every opportunity to let people know that their work means something to us, that we are grateful, or proud, or touched. And, that we should make these gestures whenever the urge strikes us and never put it off.

The funeral was difficult. I wanted to say goodbye, to meditate a little, to share my sorrow. Instead, I felt stressed, self-conscious and confused. Each guest is expected to participate in a short ritual in front of the family and other mourners. I spent most of the time caught up in anxiety over the 30 seconds I would endure. I lamented about my inappropriate dress. My dark grey pants might just as well have been bright red in the sea of black suits, black dresses, black shoes, black ties, black handbags, and black pearls. I gave my donation and ended up with two gift bags in return. How is it that I am still receiving things after Jim Cho San’s death and how can I make things equal somehow? My feelings of indebtedness seem very much increased by the ceremony.

I think that’s why I wanted to sit down and write this now, despite all of the other things that need my attention and the owed posts for events now long since past. I guess I’m hoping in someway that Jim Cho San can read this, can hear my thoughts. I want him to know that I am thankful for his kindness. I want him to know that I was looking forward to the soba noodle lessons we had laughed about him giving. That I was looking forward to his warm smile tomorrow.