Landed
I landed in Tokyo on Sunday evening. The flight was pretty much empty due to Japanese restriction on overseas entries and I had more room than I could use. In addition to the test I had to take within 72 hours of my departure in Los Angeles, everybody had to take another test upon arrival. I was guided through a highly organized maze consisted of several stations set up within the terminal, one of which was a row of booths where I go in to collect my saliva for the test, and where each either checked all the documentations I was supposed to carry or submit, giving me more documents that I should read, or giving me one-on-one instruction to install, activate and test 3 or 4 different apps that help the Japanese authorities to keep track of my health condition and whereabout during my 14-day quarantine. Yes, quarantine — despite my glorious vaccine card — I am in quarantine for another 10 days. Upon my inquiry, they told me that I could still go out for walks or essential activities such as food shopping as long as I don’t take any public transportation.
So this “act” of my story which takes place in the space my mother lived for almost 30 years began. In agreement with my brother I have slowly started to sort my mother’s belongings and indeed disposing so that we can vacate the space by the end of the month, which would help to afford a hospice care if necessary. It breaks my heart to do this while my mother is still breathing even though we all know she will not come back to this space again. My anticipation for the tsunami of grief has so far turned out to be more like occasional swells, which seem to come when I talk to people.
I realize I am indeed facing the essence of Buddha’s teachings: We all get old; we all get sick; we all die; and we all lose everything that’s dear to us. This teaching has been in the forefront of my practice for a good while as I knew, like so many of my friends have experienced in the last year of pandemic, the time would come sooner or later when I had to clean my mother’s apartment.
It was so timely that in the Buddhist Eco-Chaplaincy program I am taking, grief has been the topic we’re exploring by reading, listening and discussing this process of grief. One of the assigned listening was a talk by Gil Fronsdal called, “Accompanying, Knowing and Liberating Grief.” I’ve listened to it over and over to keep reminding myself to be present for this particular moment in my life. As Gil talks about, allowing myself to feel when the feelings come and watch how they move through me is somehow liberating.