I attended my first Japanese funeral last night, my first in adulthood. I never imagined I would experience attending a funeral while living abroad, but it happened. Not that I was looking forward to the experience.
Tragedy struck the famiy of one the 5th graders, a cool little girl named Sayaka, when her father accidently slipped and fell from a 30-foot tower at his job, a local steel plant in town. Especially considering Japan's high safety standards, the news came as a shock to all, enough to make the newspaper. According to the article, he wasn't wearing any safety harnesses, which I'm guessing is typical safety gear worn in that situation, however, he was wearing a hard helmet which obviously wasn't enough but it wasn't enough to prevent his death. He was 52.
I wasn't aware of any of this until the day of the funeral, which was the day following the accident. 10 minutes before I was due to go home, Kanie-Sensei approached me and asked was I going to the funeral that evening. I was like, "Funeral?! What funeral?!! Who died?!"
Learning the news put a downer on an otherwise fine day. Ten minutes before I walk out the door, I'm being asked to go to a funeral. I didn't particularly feel up to going to somebody's funeral on a moment's notice, though after a minute or two of contemplation, I decided I would attend to show support for one of my students. I wasn't exactly dressed to attend a funeral service (though some might disagree. har!) so after school, Kanie-Sensei ofered to take me by his whouse to pick up some clothes for us to wear. We got the gear and came back to the school. He had a spare black suit, actually, it was his old man's suit which he let me wear. The pants legs and arms on the jacket were flooding like crazy, but there was nothing we could do about it. Afterall, this wasn't a fashion show. After we changed, he gave me some ceremonial Buddhist prayer beads and a quick tutorial on what to do at the funeral (there were a couple of rites that visitors performed to show respect for the dead, one involving the manipulation of wooden ashes).
We hopped back in his van and headed to ceremony, which was right down the street from the school, but not before stopping at the nearest convenience store to grab a quick bite. Kanie-Sensei paid for my meal, which consisted of a microwaveable bento plate with a standard small portion of spaghetti, rice and chicken kara-age (Japanese-style fried chicken chunks), plus an onigiri (rice ball wrapped in seaweed) and a small bottle of hot tea. We scarfed that down in his car in the store parking lot, before making the 3-minute drive down to the appropriately-named "ceremony hall" (I'd always wondered exactly what kind of ceremonies were held in Japanese ceremony halls, since weddings are typically held in churches. Yes, a Buddhist nation which holds a great majority of its wedding ceremonies in Christian churches. Figure that one out).
I learned alot about Japanese funerals that evening. I was particularly impressed by the turnout. There were at least a couple hundred people who showed just within the 20-minutes we were there. The whole community: besides family members, classmates, parents, teachers, friends, co-workers were all in attendance, waiting in two long lines to enter the very Western-styled hall. Being the only foreigner there, many a head turned when I walked in the place dressed in black; a lot of the folks there from the school community knew who I was so it was all good. Amongst the crowd, I think I saw the high school punk whom I suspect vandalized my bike way back when. When I see him on the street, he usually tries to mean-mug me, to no avail, but on this night he avoided eye contact completely. I'm sure he was more surprised to see me there than I was him.
The atmosphere of the funeral wasn't particulary somber at all. The hall was mostly quiet and the inner hall where the family and some guests were seated was well-lit. When the prayer ceremony started Kanie motioned me to follow him into the inner hall. I trailed him to empty seats and just basically mimicked what he did. He pulled out the beads and clasped them around his hands then put them together in prayer. I did the same. At the front was a wooden altar with a framed picture of the deceased. Then a clergyman at the front opened a book and began reciting a prayer, which actually was more of a chant. Everyone else broke out in unison with the chanting but none of them had any literature to recite from--they were coming straight off the head; that was when I noticed that all the visitors weren't participating in the prayer. I realized then that "Oh, the folks praying must be the HARDCORE Buddhists," real practicing Buddhists, as opposed to most Japanese people who are not. (Just like folks in the U.S. claim they're Christian yet don't go to church or mass, it's kinda the same in Japan with Buddhism). What was amazing was how everyone including Kanie was reciting the mono-syllabic utterances flawlessly, straight from the head, for about 10 minutes straight. Meanwhile, I sat there with hands together wondering if they were repeating the same phrases or reciting one mega-long passage.
During the prayer, I was peeking up, watching the clergyman and reading the family names scripted on the big flower bouquets for the family, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed two people stand up and walk to the middle of the room and start bowing incessantly. I then spotted Sayaka in the front row on the other side of the room. She was sitting alone, sobbing uncontrollably holding a small towel over her eyes to soak up her tears. Sadder than her crying, was that not one person was consoling her or even had their arm on her shoulder. I mean this kid is only 10 and just lost her father for the rest of her life. I felt for her and just wanted to go over and give the kid a hug. Where were her folks? I realized then the people who'd gotten up were her mother and older brother. They had to stand together to bow and pay respects to EVERY ONE of the dozens of visitors. There was nothing they could do to console Sayaka at that point. I looked up and saw Sayaka's mom bowing, herself in tears. The brother was holding himself together and did his duty. He only looked about high school-aged. Kanie-Sensei and I got up and joined the line to pay respects. When we got to the front of the line, we performed some ritual which involved moving small ashes by hand from one box to another, three times. We then bowed to the family and left.
More surprising was the fact we received parting gifts on our way out the door. In our gift bags were: small packets of salt (used to wash the hands of bad spirits) and a box of household white sugar. That had me imagining what American funerals would change if they had to give gifts away to visitors.
I don't know if I fear death, however it's been on my mind more than I'd like as of late. I don't worry about my own death so much, rather I think I have some buried anxieties about my family and friends. Now I know 3 people who've lost parents within the span of the last two months--something I've been sympathetic to, yet can't relate to. What I have learned from witnessing these people, is that death and loss and painful but not unbearable. These people have continued carrying on their lives for the future. But then, of course they would. What the hell am I fretting about anyway?
I know it's kind of silly to sit and contemplate the ramifications of death and loss of loved ones while people are still walking around live and well, but it's something that I know I'll inevitably have to face, including my own. Everyone has to have their turn, as morbid and immature as that sounds. As the saying goes: "The only things certain in life are death and taxes," but I wonder, is there anyway I can be prepared for it or deal with it when it happens?
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