Itsuku in the snow ... the newborn baby brings joy and healing after a family tragedy.
By Etsuko Yasunaga
Sometimes a quick decision is a best decision. I received a short message from my sister in Japan in mid November. Her son Kenji and his wife Haruka want to show snow to their new born baby and were planning a trip to the north in February. My heart jumped and at once I decided to join them.
I couldn’t join their family holiday in Kyoto last January as we had already planned to go away to the Ovens Valley around the same time. I wasn’t going to miss out on this wonderful opportunity, and asked my sister to organise domestic flight tickets for me as well. She was delighted. I booked a return JAL flight to Tokyo (Narita) and all necessary accommodations within a day. Everything went smoothly, and I had a flawless itinerary nearly three months in advance. Not every decision requires deep analysis. Trusting my instincts was the most effective approach. My heart was yearning to see my great nephew for the first time.
Sometimes a quick decision is a best decision. I received a short message from my sister in Japan in mid November. Her son Kenji and his wife Haruka want to show snow to their new born baby and were planning a trip to the north in February. My heart jumped and at once I decided to join them.
I couldn’t join their family holiday in Kyoto last January as we had already planned to go away to the Ovens Valley around the same time. I wasn’t going to miss out on this wonderful opportunity, and asked my sister to organise domestic flight tickets for me as well. She was delighted. I booked a return JAL flight to Tokyo (Narita) and all necessary accommodations within a day. Everything went smoothly, and I had a flawless itinerary nearly three months in advance. Not every decision requires deep analysis. Trusting my instincts was the most effective approach. My heart was yearning to see my great nephew for the first time.
On Sunday February 8th the snow in Tokyo Haneda airport derailed my schedule completely. It was the day I planned to fly to Shonai (Tsuruoka) in Yamagata prefecture to reunite with my mum and sister. My 10.40am flight was delayed for one and half hours then cancelled abruptly.
There were a few more flights left on the day so I rebooked a late afternoon flight, hoping that I could get there for an onsen ryokan stay. No such luck. By then there were over hundred flights being cancelled, and the whole Haneda airport was struggling to organise the planes and cabin crew for the flights.
When my second flight was cancelled around 4 o’clock in the afternoon, I gave up for the day, rebooked my flight for the following day and just repeated the whole process to retrieve my checked-in luggage. I didn’t realise it would take more than a few hours. If I had known how time-consuming the second process was, I certainly wouldn’t have rebooked my flight. In the end I had to wait for nearly seven hours till my luggage came out.
I had no accommodation booked for the night either. It was utterly devastating to see all the hotel rooms disappearing so quickly on Booking.com every time I searched for hotels and accommodations near Haneda airport. Miraculously I managed to secure a tiny Airbnb type accommodation within 10 minutes train ride from Haneda. It wasn’t cheap but I had to secure something. Otherwise I had to sleep on the floor at Haneda airport International terminal 3 with many other people who were stranded.
A few hours later while I was still waiting for my luggage, I received a message from the Airbnb I booked. ‘There was a mistake, the room you booked wasn’t meant to be offered. Please cancel your booking’. My mind went completely blank during this worst nightmare. I rang my sister to explain the situation but she couldn’t help me much being far away from Tokyo. She tried ringing a few nearby hotels but everywhere was full due to cancelations of flights. She then rang Kenji just to explain my current situation but she didn’t ask for any help.
Within a few minutes, I received a phone call from him, suggesting that I go to a hotel in Yokohama where he had secured a room for me. His voice was calm but had a touch of authority. I realised Kenji was no longer 18 years old as when he lost his older brother in a tragedy. He had grown up as a fine young man.
Luckily my luggage finally came out around 10.45pm so I grabbed it and started walking towards the Keikyu line station. On the train, I let Kenji know that the luggage had finally come out and I was heading towards the hotel where he had reserved a room for me. I thanked him profusely and made an arrangement to meet Kenji’s family at Yokohama station the following day to travel together to Haneda airport again. I arrived at the hotel about 11.30pm, had a quick shower and tidied up my luggage for the following day’s journey then collapsed in to a comfortable bed about midnight. I slept like a log until seven in the morning. I was so grateful for his thoughtful and kind gesture in my unforeseen difficulty.
Kenji, Haruka and their baby met me at Yokohama station and we travelled together to Haneda, and then eventually flew to Shonai. I nearly cried at the landing. When I saw my sister’s face at the airport, I couldn’t stop crying. A sense of relief that the previous day’s ordeal was over and joy mixed together, my emotions were heightened.
My heart melted when I saw my sister cuddling baby boy Itsuku tenderly. There is no way of knowing what was in her thoughts when she held him gently. The baby is her first grandson but it meant more than that. Nearly 15 years has passed since her son Hiroshi died. The fact that Itsuku was a boy must have brought back fond memories and cherished recollections of Hiroshi when he was a baby. Did she feel the weight of years press gently into her arms? Did the baby’s cry stir memories she thought time had tucked away? Did loving him feel like love for Hiroshi coming back to her, redeemed and more beautiful? Did she feel she was reunited with Hiroshi’s spirit somehow?
I don’t know. It seemed like she had come full circle, yet no longer in intense grief alone, but rather in a state of acceptance away from emotional suffering. All that was wrong and painful in her life, the existence of baby Itsuku made it right. He brought a dream of possibilities. Oh how happy that notion made me! In my sister’s tiny apartment we all gathered and shared a beautiful home-cooked meal on our first night. Five adults and one baby in front of the photo of deceased Hiroshi, we laughed, ate and continued to live. Hiroshi was gone but remained youthful in the photo as forever twenty-two years old in his white kimono. I could not help but wonder that he was smiling all over.
On his last day, Kenji decided to visit Hiroshi’s accident site in Mikawa. It was his first time since he lost his beloved brother. My last visit to Japan three years ago, visiting there was on my high priority list, too. I felt a huge relief after laying the bouquet of flowers at the base of the electric pole where Hiroshi was electrocuted. No one knows exactly what went through Kenji’s mind. Out of respect we didn’t ask anything afterwards either. Only my sister’s car navigation history had a record of him driving to Mikawa on that day. That alone sufficed.
At the tender age of eighteen, Kenji had to decide to tell doctors to stop life support for Hiroshi. What a painful, heavy burden of grief, guilt and regret to bear! By visiting Hiroshi’s accident site with his own newborn baby I’m sure he finally came to terms with the tragedy many years ago. We all suffered - my sister, Kenji, my mum and I. We all grieved on our own terms and slowly healed in our own ways. Grief is a highly personal, unique response to a loss with no right or wrong way to navigate. There is no winning badge for suffering the most.
A new baby in my family brought the beginning of all good things – hope, aspiration, vision and promise. I bet Hiroshi was watching over us, smiling down on our lives from the vast sky.
There were a few more flights left on the day so I rebooked a late afternoon flight, hoping that I could get there for an onsen ryokan stay. No such luck. By then there were over hundred flights being cancelled, and the whole Haneda airport was struggling to organise the planes and cabin crew for the flights.
When my second flight was cancelled around 4 o’clock in the afternoon, I gave up for the day, rebooked my flight for the following day and just repeated the whole process to retrieve my checked-in luggage. I didn’t realise it would take more than a few hours. If I had known how time-consuming the second process was, I certainly wouldn’t have rebooked my flight. In the end I had to wait for nearly seven hours till my luggage came out.
I had no accommodation booked for the night either. It was utterly devastating to see all the hotel rooms disappearing so quickly on Booking.com every time I searched for hotels and accommodations near Haneda airport. Miraculously I managed to secure a tiny Airbnb type accommodation within 10 minutes train ride from Haneda. It wasn’t cheap but I had to secure something. Otherwise I had to sleep on the floor at Haneda airport International terminal 3 with many other people who were stranded.
A few hours later while I was still waiting for my luggage, I received a message from the Airbnb I booked. ‘There was a mistake, the room you booked wasn’t meant to be offered. Please cancel your booking’. My mind went completely blank during this worst nightmare. I rang my sister to explain the situation but she couldn’t help me much being far away from Tokyo. She tried ringing a few nearby hotels but everywhere was full due to cancelations of flights. She then rang Kenji just to explain my current situation but she didn’t ask for any help.
Within a few minutes, I received a phone call from him, suggesting that I go to a hotel in Yokohama where he had secured a room for me. His voice was calm but had a touch of authority. I realised Kenji was no longer 18 years old as when he lost his older brother in a tragedy. He had grown up as a fine young man.
Luckily my luggage finally came out around 10.45pm so I grabbed it and started walking towards the Keikyu line station. On the train, I let Kenji know that the luggage had finally come out and I was heading towards the hotel where he had reserved a room for me. I thanked him profusely and made an arrangement to meet Kenji’s family at Yokohama station the following day to travel together to Haneda airport again. I arrived at the hotel about 11.30pm, had a quick shower and tidied up my luggage for the following day’s journey then collapsed in to a comfortable bed about midnight. I slept like a log until seven in the morning. I was so grateful for his thoughtful and kind gesture in my unforeseen difficulty.
Kenji, Haruka and their baby met me at Yokohama station and we travelled together to Haneda, and then eventually flew to Shonai. I nearly cried at the landing. When I saw my sister’s face at the airport, I couldn’t stop crying. A sense of relief that the previous day’s ordeal was over and joy mixed together, my emotions were heightened.
My heart melted when I saw my sister cuddling baby boy Itsuku tenderly. There is no way of knowing what was in her thoughts when she held him gently. The baby is her first grandson but it meant more than that. Nearly 15 years has passed since her son Hiroshi died. The fact that Itsuku was a boy must have brought back fond memories and cherished recollections of Hiroshi when he was a baby. Did she feel the weight of years press gently into her arms? Did the baby’s cry stir memories she thought time had tucked away? Did loving him feel like love for Hiroshi coming back to her, redeemed and more beautiful? Did she feel she was reunited with Hiroshi’s spirit somehow?
I don’t know. It seemed like she had come full circle, yet no longer in intense grief alone, but rather in a state of acceptance away from emotional suffering. All that was wrong and painful in her life, the existence of baby Itsuku made it right. He brought a dream of possibilities. Oh how happy that notion made me! In my sister’s tiny apartment we all gathered and shared a beautiful home-cooked meal on our first night. Five adults and one baby in front of the photo of deceased Hiroshi, we laughed, ate and continued to live. Hiroshi was gone but remained youthful in the photo as forever twenty-two years old in his white kimono. I could not help but wonder that he was smiling all over.
On his last day, Kenji decided to visit Hiroshi’s accident site in Mikawa. It was his first time since he lost his beloved brother. My last visit to Japan three years ago, visiting there was on my high priority list, too. I felt a huge relief after laying the bouquet of flowers at the base of the electric pole where Hiroshi was electrocuted. No one knows exactly what went through Kenji’s mind. Out of respect we didn’t ask anything afterwards either. Only my sister’s car navigation history had a record of him driving to Mikawa on that day. That alone sufficed.
At the tender age of eighteen, Kenji had to decide to tell doctors to stop life support for Hiroshi. What a painful, heavy burden of grief, guilt and regret to bear! By visiting Hiroshi’s accident site with his own newborn baby I’m sure he finally came to terms with the tragedy many years ago. We all suffered - my sister, Kenji, my mum and I. We all grieved on our own terms and slowly healed in our own ways. Grief is a highly personal, unique response to a loss with no right or wrong way to navigate. There is no winning badge for suffering the most.
A new baby in my family brought the beginning of all good things – hope, aspiration, vision and promise. I bet Hiroshi was watching over us, smiling down on our lives from the vast sky.