Ten Thousand Sorrows
After 14 days of quarantine upon my arrival in Japan, I finally got to go to my mother’s hospital. Once we met with the doctor and the caseworker to discuss the current condition and prognosis as well as the possible transfer to a hospice care, we were invited to go see her even though visitors were still not allowed to enter the patients rooms because of COVID. Knowing I had come all the way from the U.S., the caseworker had made an arrangement with the nurse station to let us visit.
I walked in to mom’s room — where she shares with 3 other patients — knowing that many of my friends are praying and sending me courage and strength. The moment I saw her, tears came rushing. I could see her tiny emaciated body under her cover and her face so pale. Even though the nurse told her it was her daughter and I called, “Oka-san!”, I could see her gaze wasn’t landing on me. Once the nurse left us, I took my mask off so she could see me not to avail. She seemed to recognize my brother though she was quite confused about everything. It wasn’t until I got to the other side of the bed so I can face her directly and told her it was me that she finally recognized me. “Oh, it’s you! I’ve missed you so much!” and tears started flowing on her wrinkled face. She vacillated from “thank you” to “I’m sorry” and everything in-between including “Nobody comes to see me. I’m so lonely…” At some point she knew why nobody could come and blamed the government, and at other points she didn’t seem to understand. She said, “will you come see me again tomorrow?” — I said, “yes” knowing I couldn’t.
As I was leaving the hospital, a call came from a friend in Tokyo telling me one of my best friends died while surfing that morning. Bunpei was only 62. We just talked last week for more than an hour catching up. I never not see him when I come back to Japan even if it’s a short stay, but I told him I probably wouldn’t be able to on this trip under the circumstance. I cannot fathom that I won’t see him again ever, but I’m comforted to know he went the way he did. What better way for him to go other than on his surf board in the ocean. Then last night, a friend in the mountains, who gave a beautiful ceremony with another friend for my kitty, Nicola, when she passed, made her expected transition after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in February. As she got home for hospice care, I did get to tell her on the phone from Japan how much I would miss her. She will be greatly missed in our communities.
While my mom holds onto her ever so fragile life, two vibrant lives were lost in my world in the last 2 days. As I sit with waves of sorrows coming from all directions, I find solace in my daily practice to be with whatever is in each moment. This way it’s not so overwhelming — one breath at a time and one moment at a time, and I can manage to find some joys at moments in between.
#YouCanSitWithUs