Words again

Sorry y’all. Words just wouldn’t fit for a while.

On the one hand, the hometown and the homefood were absolutely wonderful. The town looked a whole lot smaller than I remembered it, and the food tasted better than ever. I was pampered beyond any reasonable level, even being treated to a several-course meal at a fancy restaurant, with the excuse that I had grown up with the owner’s wife. How fancy? Three forks, a gigantic soup spoon, and a steak knife fancy. Thank God there were chopsticks too. I got lost after the first fork and switched to the comfort of two wooden sticks. Don’t know what I would have done without them.

Best seafood ever at Myojinmaru in downtown Kochi City. Almost everything was seared over a straw fire. You haven’t eaten seafood until you’ve eaten there.

Food is easy to cloak with words. The rest of the week, not so much.

Coming back into the joys and pains of what used to be home. Spending time with precious people who shaped my life from the get-go. Gaping holes where others used to be. Seeing some old situations remain unresolved. Having great fun seeing others mended. Being re-fattened with plenty of home-cooked meals. Never having enough time to say what needs to be said, and only barely getting started on the list of people I so want to meet. Promising to be back again soon to meet whoever else I can and sit down for tea and long conversations.

And Dad. He’s not here. Not that he should be, in the shape he was in. But there I was at his grave, for the first time. He wasn’t there to give me instructions on what to do next. I’ve never weeded a Japanese grave site, nor arranged the flowers, nor read Daddy’s name engraved in the list of names beside the gravestone. Could have used his advice on how to navigate this unknown territory. I bumbled my way through.

I know all four people buried here in the Christian grave. The baby lost at birth, my friend’s grandma, another friend’s mom, and my Dad. It’s that new. Mother will be buried here too. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.” The same verse that my sister quoted when Dad died is engraved here on the tombstone. It’s a rare grave, designed entirely as a memorial and not as a place to placate the dead. The load is much lighter for the mourner here. I'm glad. I can't handle a heavier load. 

Bye, Dad. Glad you’re Home. Miss you being here.

I’ll write more later, as the words form. It was a full week, and my heart will need to spill. I got lost in the swirl for a while.

But now, I need to get ready to head back to Iwaki for the last few days of my time there. Can’t believe it’s ending already. I’m standing too close to be able to see what these three months meant. Doubt I’ll ever stand back far enough to understand.

Maybe the freshness of saying another goodbye to my own Dad will keep me tender enough to listen up North where hearts are still aching. If there’s one thing I know about Papa God, it’s that He doesn’t waste anything and He brings something good.

The job of leveraging all the grief and turmoil of the North will take tremendous creativity that none of us have. But Life will keep winning. That’s His specialty.