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Memories of Hiroshi

20/2/2020

16 Comments

 
PictureA dogwood (Hanamizuki), a tree that Etsuko associates with Hiroshi.
By Etsuko Yasunaga
 
FEBRUARY comes. When I’m least guarded, after the celebration of festive seasons and an aspiration for the New Year, February comes relentlessly. Summer is at its height and the harvest is abundant. Yet February comes brutally, again and again.

​After nine years February still brings a piercing ache to my heart. Though the pain from Hiroshi’s passing continues to heal slowly, a sudden burst of intense sadness engulfs me out of the blue. Still I do not wish to be defined by just one tragic event that took place in my past. As the anniversary of his departure draws near, I can’t help but feel a strong urge to better myself and better the world. This sense of urgency is very personal and only focused at Hiroshi - for him, in honour of him and in respect of his life which was cut short and he could not fulfil. 


My tender sympathy often doesn’t know where to go when it comes to console my sister. I choose flowers carefully. Not too bright, something elegant. It’s a new tradition I hate to follow ever since that awful phone call that changed my life. Every year my message to her is the same. I hope your day is tranquil. What else can I say? I do my best to let her know that she is in my thoughts - always, especially on the twenty second.
 
Ever since he passed away, my life’s focus has changed. What would Hiroshi do if he were still here? Would he take this path I’m about to take? Would he take this challenge? In a way, I have been trying to bring the essence of a life of a twenty-two year old young lad to my own life while also living a life of his grieving sensible aunt in her fifties. Fortunately we shared similar passions of writing, exercise and music, so I filled my life with Hiroshi’s zeal with ease. I felt deeply connected to him whenever I wrote, exercised and immersed myself with beautiful music. I could hear his encouraging voice whenever I engrossed myself in my favourite pursuits. ‘Aunty Et, good for you! Keep on going as long as you are happy’. With my book, a regular column at the Post, numerous run reports at local parkrun events, my writing has become stronger and purposeful. I belong. Through parkrun, I rediscovered the joy of running and met many wonderful like-minded runners. I belong. I am truly who I am. I am happy. I’m complete.
 
On his first birthday after his death, I chose a beautiful blue ceramic pot and a little bamboo plant to pay tribute to his short life. Ever since I planted the bamboo, gardening has been an anchoring solace in my life. Whenever I feel my life is becoming too hectic, I go out in my garden and tend my plants and vegetable patch. It doesn’t matter what I do - even just ten minutes of weeding, watering or harvesting ground me and bring back equanimity. Hiroshi’s bamboo has outgrown from the pot, and has been replanted in my garden of Inverloch soil where I would die hopefully in the distant future.
 
I often get asked a question, ‘You seem so happy with your life. What is your secret Etsuko?’ All I would say is this. ‘There is no secret but just focusing on what I love most in life’. Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness is a well-known phrase in the United States Declaration of Independence. It is defined as a fundamental right to freely pursue joy and live life in a way that makes you happy, as long as you don't do anything illegal or violate the rights of others. Happiness however is so fleeting and elusive if you are chasing it as a destination or the end goal. Happiness is rather a state of being. I believe it’s better to focus on the here and now, and to concentrate only on the things make your heart sing. Then happiness is instant and present at any time we engage ourselves in our dearest quests – especially if those quests bring purpose and meaning to your life.
 
Retrospectively I believe the biggest legacy Hiroshi left for me was an understanding and a realisation of the happiness of pursuits instead of pursuing the elusive happiness in the indefinite future. In the last nine years what I focused on blossomed. What I enjoyed became a sheer joy in my life. Without his departure, my book would not have seen the light of day because the strongest drive to publish was to tell his story to the whole world. He truly existed, and his life was meaningful no matter how short it was.
 
Hiroshi would have been thirty two in October this year. He would probably have been happily married with a few children. Surely his children would have brought incredible delight to my sister, my mother and me. Instead he is a bitter sweet memory of a forever twenty-two year old in my heart, continually encouraging me to be happy in my own quests. By virtue of Hiroshi my life has continued to be rich and full in spite of his physical absence. Hiroshi’s sweet voice to pay attention to the most important things in my life continues to ring true in my tender aching heart. I am forever grateful for the presence of his guiding spirit in my life. 
16 Comments
Anne McDonald
21/2/2020 01:46:59 pm

What an incredible article , beautifully written to conjur up a picture of both an energetic and delightful young man and an aunt who holds him so gently in her heart . Etsuko has the ability to share her deepest emotions without overwhelming the reader - instead she draws you in so that you too can share in her pride, her grief ? Her resolution and her happiness . An inspirational article/ thank you Etsuko

Reply
Etsuko Yaunaga
21/2/2020 03:24:06 pm

Thank you Anne sincerely for taking time to read my written piece. I believe that everything (including both happiness and sadness) is better shared. If my writing can bring solace to any grieving heart, then I am content. Your kind words are much appreciated.

Reply
Phyllis Papps
22/2/2020 10:50:46 am

Dear friend Etsuko,
so much wisdom, so much pain and grief and re-generation.
Your writing is so SPECIAL because you express so much emotion and so many words that most mere mortals are afraid of doing or saying or writing.
We are all enriched by your writing and your philosophy of life and happiness. Regards, Phyllis.

Reply
Etsuko Yasunaga
22/2/2020 12:44:47 pm

Dear Phyllis, your kind words touched my heart and also affirmed my passion for writing. Learning to write in a second language was difficult, but once I cleared the barriers, words flowed naturally. I feel everything deeply, and there is no other way I can see the world. Sometimes it's painful to be this way but when I can share my feeling with others through my writing it brings a whole new meaning to my creative pursuit.

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Heather Sullivan
22/2/2020 09:12:46 pm

Etsuko, your words have me in tears. Despite your loss and intense grief, you have found a way through this to enrich your life every day. I can only dream of escaping the grief that engulfs me daily, but your words give me some hope that with time I may be able to achieve this. Thank you.

Reply
Etsuko Yasunaga
22/2/2020 09:38:31 pm

Oh Heather, grief is very personal process and everyone responds differently. I was lucky enough to have writing in my life when this tragedy took place, and found solace in expressing my feeling. Any creative pursuit helps to heal grieving hearts. I trust that you already have special creativity inside you, so explore your talent and share it with others who appreciate its beauty. Thanks for your honesty and taking time to read my writing. Much appreciated.

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Mardi Jones
23/2/2020 09:51:08 pm

I have just read this because I didn't want to read it in a rush. This was too important to rush through and not be able to process as it should be. I have just read it.....3 times. And I say this my beautiful friend - I understand it so very much. My entire life's focus changed on January 1st 2019 with the diagnosis that destroyed my family and everything I knew. It is kind of like learning to walk again - except a little bit braver because they have been denied the chance to live the life that they should have had.....so we can't take it for granted. We must do the things that scare us and the things we didn't think we could.....quite simply because they no longer can. We have to find a new way to relate to people that we love so dearly and are a part of our hearts but now feel that little bit further away. We cannot let them know our grief or despair or how lost we feel because what they are going through is so much worse. We understand and we know but we find a way to process our pain so that they don't have to bear ours as well. My friend this writing is extraordinary. I just want you to know that I hear you, I see you and I understand and above all - I am always here xxxx

Reply
Etsuko Yasunaga
24/2/2020 07:36:40 am

Dear friend Mardi,

First of all thank you for having waited till an appropriate time to read my piece. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, care and respect for my writing. I always ask people to find quiet time and space to read my writing so that they can process. You did. Thank you also for using 'extraordinary' to describe my writing. It's one of my favourite words to receive from my readers.

There are two types of people in the world. Those who have experienced an acute, raw pain of grieving (like you and I), and those who haven't (yet). It's almost impossible to understand this kind of intense pain without going through the actual suffering. I always accept people's sympathy graciously regardless of their experience, but words like yours hit my heart deeply. I hear you, I understand you and I'm with you always. We are strong and resilient because of our grieving experience. Hope you find solace in my writing, and on Daniel's 9th anniversary (or sooner) you are happy as I am right now.

Reply
Verena Hoefler
24/2/2020 10:50:53 am

Dear Etsuko
Your gift of making me feel the deep love you have of your family and of life itself is beautiful to me.
Keep writing, and living in the now is a very special achievement that I feel is very worthwhile to pursue.

Reply
Etsuko Yasunaga
24/2/2020 12:23:52 pm

Thank you Verena for your kind words. Writing has helped me find solace. Furthermore by sharing my writing with others I receive strong affirmation to keep on writing. It's my pure joy and is the only way I can see and understand the world.

Reply
Tony O'Connell
25/2/2020 08:52:51 pm

Beautiful words Etsuko, life takes many unplanned turns, some for the better, some in a different direction. Your words touch many hearts deeply. I love your not a secret!! Focus on what you love

Reply
Etsuko Yasunaga
25/2/2020 10:08:33 pm

Thank you very much for your words of wisdom, Tony. The fact that they come from the man I respect deeply means a lot to me. I learned quite early that where the mind goes energy flows. Yes I will continue to focus on what I love and what brings joy in my life. I'm so grateful that our paths have crossed.

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B Stevens
2/3/2020 09:01:38 pm

Chère Etsuko,
Ceci est un magnifique témoignage sur la perte d’un être cher.
Magnifique témoignage qui démontre que la mémoire de ceux qui nous ont quittés perdure dans le coeur et la vie de ceux qui les ont aimés.
Merci pour ces mots.

Reply
Etsuko Yasunaga
2/3/2020 10:13:25 pm

Merci beaucoup pour votre mots gentils. J’apprécie aussi vous avez pris le temps de lire mes écrits et d’écrire vos commentaires.Ces gens qui sont décédés (? Those who have passed away) perdent de la physique mais leurs esprits vivent dans nos coeurs. (They only lose physicality, but their spirits live on).

Reply
Marilla Greenhalgh
5/3/2020 11:06:05 am

Such beauty in your words Etsuko. It is a privilege to read the innermost workings of your heart and to have your presence in my life. Thank you.

Reply
Etsuko Yasunaga
5/3/2020 12:56:22 pm

Your words mean the world to me, Marilla. Thank you for taking time to read my writing and leave such a profound feedback. Much appreciated.

Reply



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