The first O-bon after my mother's passing

Matsuo Basho wrote in his The Narrow Road to the Deep North, “The months and days are the travelers of eternity. The years that come and go are also voyagers.” Basho chose solitary and humble life for journeys. The journey itself was his home.

We are the travelers from birth to death in the finite time.  Life itself is a journey. We are born alone and pass away alone though surrounded by the people either smiling or crying respectively.

A lotus grows in muddy water for a long time, rises above the surface to the light of the sun, blooms beautifully unsullied for three days only in the morning, and leaves seeds; this is a lotus’ life journey.

Being with my mother, I thought getting very old must be a lonesome journey with constant declining physical strength, outliving a spouse, siblings and even the oldest son one after another.  I’m not sure the love from the loving loved family members could have sufficed my mother's loneliness but hope it eased her who tended to be suffering in silence.  She showed with her attitude that pains and aches with age is something we must get along with self management, medication if necessary, smiles and sense of humor.

When one person dies, not only her body but also her thoughts and ideas disappear.  But her attitude toward life has been perceived and the spiritual patrimony of family traditions and wisdom are handed to the next generation. I’d like to keep in mind what my mother valued.




in my garden

Though most of the precious things she left are invisible, she left some priceless visible and tangible things: some handicraft and three calendar diaries. 

My mother liked hand-sewing.  In her late years, she made cushions, table center, tissue-box cover, or pouch, out of the scrap of yuzen-dyed kimono cloth which was used to my sister’s kimono and mine. 



A pouch with bottom gusset

Tissue cover

She left three books of calendar diary, the year 2010, 2013 and 2014, perhaps  with intention to be read after her passing. The one for 2014 remained blank.  Everyone couldn’t read without tears; her mundane life including her joys and concern was written down briefly with words of appreciation at each end.

Since her passing away, I have not been overly sad or lonely but have void in my mind and that void has been filled warmly by my family, especially by the bright-eyed innocence of my grandchildren.

at 13- month

at 15-month

His favorite summertime pastime in the crocodile pool

at 43-month
She runs, jumps, spins, and pedals!

O-bon lasts from 13th to 16th of August in my region, which is a Buddhist tradition to hold memorial services for ancestors. Their souls are welcomed with sacred fire and seen off with a bonfire for escorting their spirits.  Until last year, my mother hosted family reunion but this year her soul is going to be welcomed home for the first time tomorrow.

These are a few of photos from Tokae Candle Festival held in Nara Park from August 5 to 15.  Candles are lit one by one to pray for the repose of the soul and to pray gratitude. 

Wish peace in the world and in your mind.

Last year's post: Prayers for the repose of the soul and of gratitude

Flowers gone with the season change

For a long time I neglected the works of gardening but the lovely flowers, seemingly untamed but actually taken care by my husband, surely comforted me while I cared for and watched over my mother in turn with my siblings at her home in Kobe.  These are some of the flowers which made me pleased and smile since the start of my mother's hospice care at home in February.  (Hospice at home)   The doctor specializes in palliative cares and psychosomatic medicine.

Pansies and Violas were vibrant when my entire garden was dormant in winter and lasted till the end of May.

Christmas Roses look discreet always facing downward. 

They reminded me of my mother suffering and enduring in silence.

Japanese white eyes and Brown-eared bulbuls like this Camellia.

I was relaxed watching them coming and going.

 

Another Camellia with big face could be seen from where I tapped the keyboard of my laptop.

At around the time when Rhododendrons bloomed, spring was fully sprung in my garden.

The medicine to treat her anxiety for breathlessness, with which she was caught a few times with horror, seems to have made her unable to speak smoothly.

Her whole body was apparently weakening constantly but mind was rather sharp.

When dogwood was going to end, season was changing into early summer.

Delirium occurred more often to her and wakefulness made her suffer at night.  In the daytime, she looked relatively comfortable while her pain and anxiety was treated by medical morphine. Delirium, "senmo" in Japanese, is culturally thought to be the coming of the deceased loved ones to take her to paradise.



On a rainy day, something magical was happening when I stepped into the garden.

My favorite Bluebell

Strawberry plant bore fruits soon after blooming.

Until six days before her death, she sat on the chair and ate, though what she could eat was only jelly-like things because not only small pieces of solid food but also liquid choked her.  She liked to taste sip by sip the broken and stirred strawberries harvested in my garden. 





 This Hanaguruma azalea, or Rhododendron macrosepalum cv. Hanaguruma, 

was presented by my mother

when I had a house on this land thirty years ago.

Five days before her death, her wakefulness at night ended and she slept the whole night through till she was awaken late in the morning to find heart pains.  Rapidly she went downturn: only a small piece of ice was placed on her tongue to wet her throat but soon she got unable to swallow up even the melted ice.  Families gathered to see her one last time and we children cycled in and out of the room for the next four days, showing our thankfulness and goodbyes in our own different ways.  She kept on sleeping while her pain was under control by suppository of medical morphine, and then ..... she breathed her last quietly after being in a deep sleep for two days on June 5.  The rainy season set in the previous day.

Wake and funeral were held at home as she had wished, attended by about 40 people including only the family of children, grandchildren, great-grand children and the very small number of people who had been closest to her.  The alter was made with her favorite-colored flowers, pink, red, and lavender, based around the color white.

 Thank you for your unconditional love, encouraging sweet smiles,
and guiding me by your attitude throughout your life.

May your soul rest in peace, Mom.

Pond reflections under the hazy shade of winter

At Umami Hills Park in winter, I see ducks and herons at the pond edged by the grey leaves.  A small flock of ducks floating on a pond can be an idyllic sight all the seasons.

It was one of the coldest days this winter with the highest temperature  5 degrees C, or 41 degrees F.  The grey of low-hanging sky made me feel cold all the more. 

Most of the birds looked motionless.  I've heard herons hunt by waiting motionless, peering into the water to watch for prey.  Are other birds the same?

All looked like frozen in time. 

After a little while, I could see patches of the blue sky.  I felt very faint warmth of spring wafting from the heaven. 

These pond photos were taken when I stopped by on my way back from the hospital, where my father-in-law had been fighting with complications from pneumonia since last November.   He got weakened gradually.   I had mixed emotion knowing it’s a mtter of time.  It was heart-aching to watch over him fighting the disease with tubes while I longed for seeing him in this world longer.  A few days later when the rain brought warmer weather, he passed away.   Born into the small rural village, he never left the place contributing his whole life to the local community.  He bloomed where he was planted, and I expect to see cherry trees, which he donated to the area along the river, will be blooming on April 8th, the forty-ninth day after his death when he is belived to reach the another world in Buddhism.  He performed his life as long as 93 years. 

On a different note, my daughter is holding a wedding in a week.  
I'll visit you little by little when I have time.