Tsukino Ikuko really never thought about the idea of her husband dying. It was a concept that she never really visualized to happen anytime in the near future. After being married to Kenji for nearly 27 years, both had lived a life of pure bliss and happiness. They had two beautiful children, which now have grown up and thankfully became mature individuals. It was trivial to think about Kenji's death right about now, considering he was just 49 – at the prime of his life.
But now, seeing her daughter Usagi cope with the death of her own husband, it made the older woman realize about the idea of death and how it can creep up on you.
She watched her daughter, dressed in a black kimono, sob quietly. In one arm she expertly juggled the 3 month old Chibi-Usa and in her other she held a Juzu (1), which she constantly wringed to the point where her knuckles turned white. Ikuko suppressed a sob and held on to Kenji's warm, alive hand.
Usagi would never be able to hold her husband's hand now.
The lavender haired woman felt her throat tighten. She could only imagine how it felt to loose a husband and it scared her to think of loosing her Kenji. She scooted closer to her husband and allowed herself to be swept into a sea of tears. Next to her, Kenji pulled her into a half-hug and tried to comfort her in the best way he knew how.
Ikuko sobbed silently along her with daughter, knowing that her daughter would never be the same again. She had lost her husband – forever and Ikuko, for the first time, did not know what to do. She just cried.
Usagi would never be able to touch her husband. To feel him next to her in bed or kiss him goodnight. More importantly, little Chibi-Usa would grow up without a father, she'd never remember him.
Ikuko cried some more. What did Usagi do to deserve such plight?
The Buddhist priest continued to read from the sutra, his words filled the thick air. The candle flickered next to him, and he momentarily cast a weary glance at the white coffin. Such a great loss.
Friends sat uneasily behind the family of the deceased. They were a sea of black kimonos and suits, all bringing forth an ominous and miserable atmosphere. Their prayer beads rattled noisily, as they shifted in their seats and silently said their final prayers.
The eerie silence broke only once throughout the wake. And it made the priest stop momentarily and stare at the wailing child. Chibi-Usa continued to cry, groping at Usagi's hair and kimono.
Ikuko watched in slight horror as Usagi tried fruitlessly to subdue the child. She watched her daughters blue eyes widen with each ear splitting cry, with each push and pull of the child. Before her very eyes, Usagi grew frantic trying with all her might to shush her baby – to no avail.
"Please," whimpered Usagi while trying to rock the squirming baby. "Please," was all she could say. She had tried to be strong for her baby, but it was getting more difficult. She was breaking. Usagi began to cry now.
Ikuko watched her daughter being on the verge of falling into pieces. Throughout the ordeal, Usagi remained strong, she had yet to break down and cry hysterically (which was perhaps expected by everybody). Now, her daughter was finally breaking. Standing up, Ikuko plucked the crying Chibi-Usa from Usagi and tried to comfort the baby in the best way she knew how. She hummed a lullaby. The baby's cries soon turned into tiny sniffles.
Usagi watched her mother hum to Chibi-Usa. She listened as her daughter was now silenced and the priest continued to read from the sutra. More tears rolled down her cheek.
It was long, before she lunged for her mother and sobbed into her mother's black kimono.
He was gone.
The next day was the day of his funeral. The priest was reading another sutra, while everybody was offering incense. He was to be cremated that day, burned into ashes.
Ikuko watched her daughter light a incense stick and place it among the rest. For a brief moment, she watched the incense burn, its suffocating sweet smell wafted through the thick air, making it rather hard to breathe. She briefly wondered how it would feel if the body was burned – just like the incense. Shaking her head, she hugged her granddaughter to her chest, feeling foolish to have thought something like that.
The priest announced the kaimyo of the deceased. It wasn't long, and Usagi suppressed a sob. They didn't have enough money for the kaimyo. Usagi looked down in shame. (2) Nobody understood the kaimyo, as it was 'ancient', the priest explained. Usagi stared at the coffin and just hoped that 'Prince of Roses' was enough. (3)
Everybody placed flowers into the coffin. After having placed a red rose into the coffin, Ikuko stepped back and watched her daughter once more. She felt her heart break as she witnessed Usagi guide Chibi-Usa in placing a red rose into the coffin. Usagi kissed a rose and placed it into the coffin.
They all watched Usagi linger by the coffin, expecting another break down. Tears rolled down her puffy cheeks and she gave into a loud sob. She handed Chibi-Usa to her mother, before turning back to her dead husband.
Ikuko could only stare in astonishment as she barely heard Usagi whisper "Goodbye," before leaning into the casket and kissing her dead husband. With shaky hands, she took a red rose and clasped them in his dead hands. And with that, she stepped away from the coffin and allowed it to be sealed.
He didn't have any living relatives. Usagi and his daughter were the only ones he had. Usagi's parents were present at the cremation. The four of them watched his coffin slide into the cremation chamber.
They were asked to return 2 hours later. (4)
They returned, picking up his bones with chopsticks and placing them into a urn. (5) At that point, nobody cried. The air was silent, only the occasional sound of the chopsticks picking up the bones. Chibi-Usa was asleep in Rei's arms.
After the final bone was picked and the last of his ashes placed into the urn, they left the crematorium. The entire party walked out into the sun and towards the nearby lake. He didn't want to buried, but instead, his ashes would be scattered into the lake.
The urn was not heavy in Usagi's arms. Like the late afternoon sun, it felt warm to her touch – as if alive. She hugged the urn to her chest, relishing in its warmth. His warmth.
They stood by the shore, a straight line of black. Once again, they all looked so ominous.
Usagi opened the urn, and stared at its contents. Gray ashes and a few bones. These were her husband. Her dead husband. She stifled a sob, and tipped the urn over. The ashes were picked up by the wind, and swept further into the lake.
He was gone now. His ashes scattered across the lake. His entire essence scattered. It's what he wanted, to be everywhere. In the air, waters and land.
Usagi watched his ashes drift away into the waters. A river of silent tears continued to roll down her cheeks, as she hugged the urn close to her chest.
The group fell silent, each caught up in their own prayers. And in the background, somewhere in the nearby forest they heard a distant melody about star-crossed lovers.
Usagi swore it was the moon locket.
"Goodbye, my love,"
Notes:
1. Juzu – a Buddhist prayer bead. These may be carried by guests during the wake and the funeral.
2. The priest announced the kaimyo of the deceased. It wasn't long, and Usagi suppressed a sob. They didn't have enough money for the kaimyo. Usagi looked down in shame. – A kaimyo is a Buddhist name given to the dead. This name supposedly prevents the return of the deceased if his name is called. Would you believe that the Japanese actually spend more than 10,000 US Dollars for Kaimyos? The more you pay, the lengthier the kaimyo would be. It is a sign of high status and prestige if you are able to pay for a lengthy kaimyo.
3. Nobody understood the kaimyo – the kaimyos used nowadays are very ancient and nobody can read the kanji anymore. Note that I made "Prince of Roses" up, because I couldn't find any kaimyos on the net.
4. They were asked to return 2 hours later – this is the approximate amount of time it takes to cremate a body.
5. They returned, picking up his bones with chopsticks and placing them into a urn. – the Japanese have a creepy tradition. What they do is they pick up the unburned bones of the dead and place them into the urn. Only two pairs of chopsticks hold the same bone and place it into the urn or they also pass the bone around.