Naniyattenno?

My father-in-law comes from a big family. They’re spread out across Japan, but the bulk of them are concentrated in the Kanto region - the area around Tokyo and then some. It wasn’t always like this though - once upon a time the whole ten of them lived in Miyagi prefecture in the north part of Japan, in what can only be described as a hamlet by the name of Mono. Some of the family are still here - cousins for the most part - but there are other family members who’re still in Mono, although they’ll be moving down our way soon enough.

Shugo - my father-in-law - and his brother, Osami, have decided to have their parents’ grave moved down here; graves are to be cared for in Japan. First though, they plan a trip to see the graves in their original home one last time. The weekend before Obon, a period in August when Japanese families traditionally come together to remember the dead, a grey Nissan mini-van with various family members will make the 6 hour plus drive to see the graves.

We drive through the night, taking a few hours snooze at a rest stop on the highway. The brothers bemoan the fact that they can’t have a nightcap. Mono is the epicentre of nowhere. We arrive at Kichijoji temple a little after 8am to find most of the world is already up & about.

Except for the cats.

Shugo & Osami take us up the hill to the graveside, and then head back down to meet the priest. The bulk of the graves are new looking, little fenced off rectangles of polished granites with shiny pebbles scattered across the ground in front of the headstones. They’re a bit soulless, for want of a better word that speaks less ill of the dead. All of them share a nice view, however.

In rather stark contrast to the other ‘entombment by numbers’ style graves, the final resting place of the Sasaki progenitors is simple, understated & set back from the rest, between two trees. It turns out that it’s not only grandparents in there (I say in, because the top of the graves slides up to reveal a space where the ashes of the dead are kept) - there are also two brothers, and one sister. In a very matter of fact way, Shugo tells us what he knows - precious little about his sister, who died before he was born. The elder of the brothers died while working on a dam. A rock fell on him during a cave in. He was 21. The younger brother was twenty years younger than that. He fell into a fire at the age of 1.

I try not to think about this horrific ending to such a short life, and strangely enough, it’s not too difficult. The cemetery is a peaceful, warm place, bathed in brilliant sunlight. It feels comfortable. I’m not sure if the spirits laid to rest in these 4 graves will miss their spot here; all I can hope is that their new home is good enough for them.

We set to cleaning the graves and arrange some flowers. Before very long, it’s 9 o’clock, and it’s time to head back to the temple for a service. Just as at my wedding, the priest chants incomprehensible sing song Japanese, although the mood is a little different this time. We each stand and burn some incense for the dead, and a blessing is conferred upon a piece of wood called a toba. Once the ceremony is over, the priest reminisces with Shugo about high school - Shugo left when he was sixteen to go and work in Tokyo.

We take the toba up the hill again, and my father-in-law plants it behind the grave, while Uncle Osami shows us the Sasaki family kamon,a symbol not unlike a heraldic crest in terms of purpose if not form. It’s the same as the kamon used by the Takeda clan, who were a particularly badass bunch of samurai; they’re nothing but memories now.

I hope someone’s around to remember me when I get like that.