I do not own Ah my goddess or its wonderful characters
Every year, on the anniversary of his death, Mrs Iwata visited her son's grave.
Her son's grave was located in a graveyard near a temple in the small town where she lived. The town was much smaller than it used to be; the young were leaving for pastures new, the old stayed behind, with nothing but their memories. And the graveyard was a sad reminder of what the town had become…desolate, quiet, with most of the graves crumbling, a representation of the town's past, its present and future. The grave keeper, a Mr Izumi, tried his best,but age was catching up with him, and in essence the graveyard took care of itself. Or one could say that the few visitors who still cared to pay their respects to their ancestors took care of the graveyard…by taking care of their ancestors grave. Mrs Iwata was one of those very husband usually accompanied her, but this year, he was laid up in hospital with a ankle dislocation...nevertheless he still insisted that she make the trip, while their daughter took care of him for the day.
It was a cold early winter's morning as Mrs Iwata ,an elderly woman in her mid seventies, with a slim tall figure, a kind wrinkled face, and gray hair worn in a bun, wearing a sober dark blue kimono, arrived at the graveyard. The graveyard was still and quiet ,and still dark as the sun was yet to come up fully, and there was no one about. Some snow had fallen the day before, but much of it had been cleared by Mr Izumi and a small team of helpers sent from the local municipal council. Mrs Iwata fetched water using one of the small buckets provided near the entrance to the graveyard, washed the grave, lit incense sticks and made an offering, and then this took about half an hour, and then , having gathered up her offering of onigri, (her son's favourite food) she was about to leave, when she heard some sobbing nearby.
Mrs Iwata was surprised. Most of the time whenever she made her annual visit to the family grave, she was usually alone in the grave yard when she made her visits, except for the grave keeper, but this year, someone else had come, and she was sobbing deeply. Moving closer, Mrs Iwata saw that the person was a young woman with long brown hair arranged in a ponytail, and dressed in a Western style long sleeved black dress (rather old fashioned, thought Mrs Iwata).The person turned her face towards Mrs Iwata ,and the older woman noted that she had a beautiful face, with features that were clearly foreign with deep blue eyes, a delicate nose, and a sweet mouth. And some strange markings on her forehead and cheeks. But the beautiful face was contorted in grief, and the shoulders of the lady were slumped down.
For a few moments both women looked at each other, then Mrs Iwata held out her hands and the young woman walked into them, and allowed herself to be embraced. She cried more deeply, and Mrs Iwata held her for several minutes until she calmed down.
When she had calmed down, Mrs Iwata asked, gently, in English (as a young woman she had spent some time in Britiain, as an exchange student, and had learned to speak some English) ,' Are you feeling better?' And the young woman answered, in perfect Japanese. 'Yes, I am, thank you'.
'Why don't we sit down for a few minutes and we can talk a bit', said Mrs Iwata, switching to Japanese, and so saying she led her away out of the graveyard and to a park located opposite the graveyard. The park was mostly, unlike the town, neatly kept, as the park keeper was a quirky young man who had moved to the small town to 'get away from the rat race' as he said. She and the young woman were soon seated on a chair , and Mrs Iwata left her younger companion to go and get some tea from a nearby dispenser. She returned with the tea and gave the young woman one tea,and told her gently…'Drink up. You will feel better.' The young woman gratefully accepted the tea, and after a few sips, looked a bit better.
Mrs Iwata looked at her , and then gently asked 'You don't have to talk about it, but you were at the graveyard because you lost someone dear to you, isn't it'.? .And the young woman nodded in the affirmative.
'Who was it?' Mrs Iwata asked, and the young woman answered, in a quiet voice…'My husband, my was the only man I ever deeply and truly loved. He always encouraged me, and loved me and never ever took me for granted. He died a while ago, and I thought that the passing of time would lessen the pain. But today, I visited his grave, and all of a sudden, the happy memories came back, and with them the pain of losing him came afresh.'
'So', Mrs Iwata said, 'whenever you remember your husband it hurts?'', and the younger woman responded…'No, not all the time. Sometimes, whenever I remember him, I do feel happy, but most of the time, it hurts. Painfully. I thought I was prepared for his passing, but it seems that while I was reconciled to the fact of his passing, I was not prepared for the pain that I would feel.'
Mrs Iwata was thoughtful for a few moments
'Well', she said, 'I can tell you that the pain never goes away. But, I can tell you that you can still use those happy memories, and allow them to begin your healing. Like me remembering my son , Takeo. He died twenty years ago today. He was the youngest of my three children, and in a way, bringing him up was a pleasure, and he did not even go through the rebellious phase of teenagehood. But when he turned twenty five, he fell in love. With a woman that I did not like. …because she was a foreigner. Then I always thought of myself as being tolerant, but at that time, faced with a test of my tolerance, I balked at the idea. We had a falling out, I refused to attend his wedding, but my husband went , and despite he and wife trying to reach out to me over the following years , I never ever spoke to him until his death fifteen years later''
The younger woman looked shocked.
"He and his wife were travelling for work, and the craft they were in was involved in an accident, and there were no survivors. Thankfully they had no children. When I was informed of the death, I nearly went mad with grief. I could not believe that I would never see my Takeo again, and I wept and wept. I had to be admitted in hospital for a while, and I did not attend the funeral. And for months after, I refused to forgive myself. Until one day….it is strange, I remembered a time when Takeo was a teenager, and I suspected him of stealing an old keepsake, a figurine, that my grandmother had left to me.I suspected him because the last time I had seen the figurine, he was the only other person in the room .I was very harsh towards him for most of that day, until my older son found the figurine behind a cupboard, while reaching underneath for a coin that had rolled underneath.'. I apologized to him that night, and what I remember of that night was that he said, with a smile on his face…Mother, I forgive you. Don't worry.' Remembering those simple words lessened my pain a bit.'
The younger woman was listening closely and intently.
''Of course'', Mrs Iwata continued, 'my pain did not go away. I had to go for therapy for some time afterwards. But I think my healing began that day.
She turned to the younger woman, held her hands and said 'Allow your happy memories of the brief time you and your husband spent to heal you. There you will find your strength to continue'. She smiled gently at the younger woman.
As they both stood up to leave the park, the younger woman thanked Mrs Iwata.'Oh no, said Mrs Iwata, my advice isn't that good. I am just a humble retired high school biology teacher. But the young woman took Mrs Iwata's hands in hers, and said…No, it is all right. I am wonderfully enriched and encouraged by your simple words. Thank you. May fortune smile on you.'
They parted at the gate of the park, going in opposite directions. Mrs Iwata had gone a few steps, when she remembered she had not asked for her new friend's address. She turned around to call out to the lady, only to see no one was mildly surprised, but thought..''Maybe she went through a different route''. But she turned around and gave a puzzled look at the route the young woman took, and wondered a bit…before she continued on her way home.
Epilogue
Two weeks later, Mrs Iwata decided to clear out the attic of her house. She was not alone, she had her only granddaughter Mutsumi , the eldest child of her other son Kenshiro, and her grandniece Hanako to help her clean husband was also back home from the hospital, but he was resting in the downstairs parlor. As they were cleaning out the attic, Hanako came across an old album., and turned to her great –aunt saying…'Great-aunt..look, I found this old album in this box over here'
Her great aunt came over and looked at the album. "Oh, that belonged to my late uncle , my father's younger brother ,Mitsuo. He was a photography nut back when he was young., He eventually went to work for a robotics company, and died in an industrial accident some twelve years later. He left most of his old stuff with my father when he left to take up the job , and somehow never came back for them. When my father died, I inherited many of the things he left behind as his only child.'
Mrs Iwata and the two young ladies began looking through the album. While they were looking through them Mrs Iwata said 'Most of the photographs are of students at a now defunct college called Nekomi Institute of Technology, which was situated some distance from here. My uncle studied as computer major there'. She turned a page, and then stopped, with a look of shock on her face.
'Wait….I know this woman..''…she said pointing at the picture. 'I met her nearly two weeks ago when I went to visit the family grave...but that can't be possible! 'And she pointed at a picture of a young man and woman holding hands and smiling at each other. The young man was slightly shorter than the woman, who had long flowing hair, foreign features, and strange markings on her face. And by the side of the photo, Mrs Iwata's uncle had written 'My friend Keiichi Morisato, and his wife Belldandy'
Afterword: This arose out of an idea that I got from a scene in another anime 'Shounen Maid'...where the main character visits his mother's grave.
As always...review please!