Death

The mother of one of my closest friends here in Japan passed away last week, aged 56. I went to pay my respects to her by visiting the family home 2 days after her passing. Ben & I will attend the Buddhist funeral in a few days time - I think it's to be held at a funeral parlour.

M, the mother of my friend R, was a very courageous and inspiring person. She battled breast cancer for 8 years, defied the odds many times, and spent the last few months of her life making peace with the inevitable. She was amazing in so many ways -- graceful, elegant and classically beautiful. But more importantly, she was such a wonderful mother, role model and confidante to R. Their relationship seemed so intimate and caring, more like sisters than mother and daughter. And everyone loved and admired M very much - she attracted so much positive energy, and was surrounded by loving family and friends whenever I met her. In particular I recall when R invited me to Suntory Hall to see her mother sing in the choir (Faure's Requiem) and the wave of friends that came to congratulate her afterwards.

When my Mum came to visit Japan in 2004, the four of us went on a mother/daughter trip to Hakone and stayed in a traditional ryokan (japanese inn), that M had arranged through one of her friends. I remember it being such a relaxing and fun time, lots of laughs and girly chats especially while plunged in the onsen (hot springs). Even though there was a language barrier between M and my own Mum, and an age gap of 15 years, they got along so well. I recall M's enthusiasm to show my Mum lots of interesting things during her short visit to Japan, including traditional Japanese cuisine, and the ritual of boiling eggs in a natural hot spring. I'll have to dig up those photos and send a copy to R.

Talking with R on Saturday about her mother's passing, and the days and even moments leading up to it and immediately afterwards when trying to process what's just happened...brought back a flood of memories of when Dad died. This month marks 8 years since he died (28 Sep 2001). In some ways, it feels like just a short time ago because the pain of the loss and the profound sense of sadness are etched so sharply in my heart and mind. And yet...it's scary to think that EIGHT full years have already passed, and my memories of that time have become somewhat foggy - even though I never wished them to be.

I realised that seeing M - in her very real state of rigour mortis - lying peacefully in her living room at home that day, surrounded by family, beautiful white flowers and everything familiar, and being visited by all who loved her the ensuing three days, was such a natural thing. She was only the 4th corpse that I've seen in my life...the other 3 were my grandfather (Sep 1999), grandmother (Nov 2007) and father...and obviously only because they are immediate family whom I had intimate contact with.

Why is it that in Australia and many other western countries we're so awfully squeamish about death? It's such a rarity to view, let alone touch, a deceased person up close. There's always such a fuss made about whether the casket will be opened or closed, and whether to look or not. I think it's a great shame that we don't try to embrace death for what it is: an undeniable part of human existence and something completely natural that shouldn't be hidden, gentrified or sanitised.

I know that when I die, I would like for all who will miss me to be able to say goodbye to me in the physical form.