
When I was a freshman in high school, I was given an assignment to make an autobiography about my life. Ten texts, MLA Style, 20% of our grade . At any age this seems a daunting task, but as a freshman in high school? "What, Mrs. Burns, are you thinking? How the hell do you expect us to write ten pieces about our life as only a freshman!" I wanted to scream. But years later I remain impressed with myself at what I wrote: as no stranger to love and loss, I titled my Autobiography Love is to Lose as Life is to Breath. I don't think I could even come up with a title as witty as that now. It's even hard to come up with a creative introduction into this heavy subject:
On the 30th of October, my Japanese roommate took his own life. I will not go into any details in this blog, but all I will say is that nobody has an explanation. If you want to know anything ask, but it is unlikely that I will go into many details in order to respect this situation. I am writing this let people know what's happening, offer my Japan community my interpretation of this situation so far, and of course to reflect.
First off I am fine. Though the reality of things come in waves there are people in the community effected far more than I am. I'm finding that I have outlets in Japan if I need them, (including my dance circle who told me today "don't be afraid to come to us. We aren't like friends, we are like family." in English with a heavy Japanese accent.). There are also friends and family back home who I've talked to, friends here in Japan that I've made, Japanese staff, and the Nagoya Koryu Kaikan residents.
Like I said, I am no stranger to love and loss. When I was young, I lost my brother and my grandfather. This has been something that has effected my mentality throughout my whole life, but it has made me stronger and has taught me various lessons in my life.
The biggest lesson that I have ever learned through these events actually happened just recently. In either Japanese, or Buddhist culture, (I'm not sure which as my family is both, and I often get them confused), there are anniversaries of a persons death in certain years after a persons passing. Just a few years ago, it was one of those anniversaries for my grandfather.
The Buddhist reverend came came and did all of the things I expected. My family and I sat in my Grandmothers basement. Two sections on each side, one path in the middle leading to the Butsudan. The reverend chanted the Juseige, said namandabu at least four times, hit the bell at least three times, and we all said namuamidabutsu while the Ojuzu were wrapped around our hands and gave our heads a slight bow.
But then came the "Dharma talk" as the reverends always call this. First he said "death is sad."
"What the hell? Seriously, it's sad? Really?" I sort of thought to my self.
but then he said something that really surprised me.
"Sadness is a gift."
What? Really? I was surprised, びっくりしました。
"Sadness is a gift" He continued, "because it shows our ability to love a person. It shows us how human we are, and it proves that we actually loved the person we lost. It is a sign of all of the memories that we have of the person. All of the good times, all of the bad times, and even the times where there isn't much emotion. The sadness that we feel is a gift. The longer, and deeper the sadness, the longer and deeper the love that we truly felt for that person."
These words will remain with me forever.
Though I only knew Picasso for a couple of months I do feel a sense of sadness. It's hard knowing that this thing happened in the room just next to mine, and it's hard thinking about a lot of things. But there are people here that have a deeper, longer sadness for Picasso. I hope you read this, because even after many years of my grandfather passing away, this gave me a new sensation of relief somehow.
We will always have to love and lose people in our lives. That is simply how it works... No one has to deal with this alone. The hard thing about this is not knowing enough Japanese to transcend this communication barrier to help those that are having an even harder time with this.
The community has been greatly impacted, and there is a sense of sadness, and community here.
To those here, abroad, home, and above, you are loved.
DK

