Hugs wanted

I sit here in Starbucks drinking my hojicha latte, as I do each week while my son is in ballet class. Yet this week, tears are in my eyes, threatening to fall. I’m taking deep, slow breaths trying to contain them, yet they still build.

Thoughts of my dad and family run through my head with determination. My sensory memories have been on high alert the past couple weeks, often leaving me overwhelmed at the most random moments.

I realized, even before my dad passed, that I’m needing hugs. I’m currently a bit fearful of them, afraid they will cause a meltdown of emotions built up over this past year of hiding and avoidance. But right in this moment, I desperately need a friend or loved one to just hold me as I let everything out. My husband and son are doing the best they can, but sometimes a person needs hugs from other people in addition to the family snuggles.

I’ve told a few friends locally. My expat friends have taken me on walks and checked in with me to see if they can help. But we are afraid to touch one another. As foreigners, we have extra fears of getting sick. Our support systems are very limited. For example, I have had to think of what to do with my son if both my husband and I were to get sick. Without family here, it’s terrifying to need to think of these realities.

Japanese people are notorious for not being touchy-feely. People bow in lieu of shaking hands. Children are not cuddled, especially after reaching kindergarten age (I can’t tell you how many times people have commented on how I hug and kiss my son...). And they certainly don’t hug their adult friends. It’s a cultural difference that sometimes I appreciate and other times I loathe. I currently despise the cultural standard of social distancing.

Unable to return to the US right now has left me feeling extremely lonely and isolated. If it weren’t for my husband and son, I don’t know how I’d manage. At least my tank isn't on empty.

I admit that I give mixed messages, saying “I’m fine!” one minute and feeling sucker punched the next. But in the midst of both of those feelings, I really do just need a good, old fashioned American hug.

The other day I picked up my copy of “The Last Lecture” by Randy Pausch. The book discusses living one’s life to the fullest and achieving childhood dreams. As a child I dreamed of living in Japan. It was a place that seemed magical to me. The adventures I’ve had here have been incredible, but right now the dream isn’t so magical. I'm reading the book in the hopes to rekindle that feeling of adoration for this country I often dreamed of as a child.

I keep telling myself that I cannot loose it in Starbucks. I don’t want to make more of a spectacle than I already am. So I take a few deep breaths and try to center myself. My hugs and comfort will come. If not here and now, then later when I visit home.

****************

After I picked my son up from ballet, we noticed the sunset was especially brilliant. I stopped and stared at it for a bit and was reminded of a movie I watched as a child - An American Tail. In the movie, a young mouse was separated from his family while moving to the US. At some point, Fievel and his sister sang a duet called “Somewhere Out There” about being connected even though they weren't together. The song really resonates with me as I live far away from so many loved ones. Looking at that sunset, I felt a little less alone. Then, I walked inside my house and hugged my husband and son, feeling grateful for them on so many levels.

Somewhere Out There

Somewhere out there,
beneath the pale moonlight,
someone's thinking of me and loving me tonight.

Somewhere out there,
someone's saying a prayer,
that we'll find one another in that big somewhere out there.

And even though I know how very far apart we are,
it helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star.

And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby,
it helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky.

Somewhere out there,
if love can see us through,
then we'll be together, somewhere out there,
out where dreams come true.

An emotional week

There are no qualms about it, it has been a very emotional week. There have been many emotions coursing through my body as I process the loss of my father. It has been quite discombobulating.

Desiring to stay in bed all day and process, a friend challenged me to get outside for a bit everyday. Since it is spring, she asked if I could send her photos of the flowers blooming in the neighborhood.

Cherry blossoms outside the library are in full bloom.

Cherry blossoms on a major street are just starting to flower.

These pink cherry blossoms are early bloomers.

A variety of magnolia native to Japan is blooming all over our neighborhood.

More magnolias.

Flowering quince brighten up any day.

Sometimes getting outside is the best thing for us.

Not ready to say goodbye

"The trouble is, you think you have time." - Buddha

Days after learning of my father's unexpected death from complications of ALS (much sooner than the doctors told us), I found myself standing in front of the fridge going down memory lane. I knew I needed to eat something despite my lack of appetite. I found eggs. The simple protein source reminded me of my dad's farmer phase. At one point in his life, he had a small farm, complete with horses, goats, a cow, geese, turkeys, chickens, and more. I don't remember gathering eggs from these chickens or even what kind of coop they had. I just remember planting a garden which the chickens devoured before anything even started to grow. It was a life lesson that we relived through his storytelling again and again over the years. Don't plant something, leave it unprotected, and expect everything to be okay. Take care of the things you create.

My dad went through many phases in his life. There was the boat phase, the fishing phase, the entrepreneurship phase, the gardening phase, and the bike phase to name a few. Some phases were fun, others taxing, and a few we'd rather forget (I hope to never eat another trout in my lifetime). Regardless of the phase theme, he was always passionate concerning whatever had captured his attention, with extreme enthusiasm. From the moment he and my stepmother started a tour bus company, he could tell amazing facts and stories about anywhere the coaches ventured, making him lots of fun to wander around with. His gardening phase quickly morphed from growing a couple seedlings to plant around the yard to filling a greenhouse and supplying young plants to practically everyone he knew. The bike phase went from fixing up a bike or two into a mission giving refurbished bikes to those who needed them - especially foster kids. He probably gave away more than a thousand bikes. And it didn't stop there. He also taught many others how to fix up bikes, a valuable skill for anyone to know.

A phase we would prefer to forget was his battle with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma 15 years ago. He was so strong throughout the treatment despite it taking a horrendous toll on his body. After surviving this, I honesty thought nothing could take him down. Instead of just getting back to his life, he decided to dedicate himself in various ways to fighting cancer of various forms. He became so passionate he rode his bike from Beaverton Oregon to St. Paul Minnesota just 2 years ago to bring more awareness to eradicating breast cancer.

Distracting me from my revelry, the doorbell rang. A friend had sent flowers. They were so pretty and brought a smile to my face. This, of course, had me recalling the many times my dad brought me flowers for congratulations, holidays, and even just because. My dad was the guy who kindly helped his ladies (his wife or one of his three daughters, usually) into the car, then turned with a shuffle step and a little do-do-do hum with pointer fingers waggling, before making his way to the driver's side of the car. He liked to make people feel special.

Our relationship was not all sunshine and rainbows. In fact, my father often drove me nuts. He told the same stories again and again. He told jokes that only he would laugh at. And he always wanted a hug. Always! He held a special talent for driving me up the wall just by loving me and constantly reminding me that he did.

The emotions I have been feeling since receiving the news have been intense and overwhelming. I feel as if I am in an ocean being hit with waves from both the tide coming in as well as going out. A predominate feeling is one of guilt. Guilt for not rushing back to the US, despite Covid and closed borders, as soon as he was diagnosed. Guilt for choosing annoyance instead of acceptance when he was over the moon about doing this or that. Guilt for refusing to listen to his life lessons and instead seeking out my own.

As guilty as I feel for not having been there with and for my dad over this past year as his body was taken over by a horrendous disease, I’m also lucky in a way. When I think of my dad, I think of him as healthy. I won’t have the memories of him loosing most of his verbal skills, being confined to a wheelchair, and being so angry at his loss of independence. Although he was wobbly for years preceding his diagnosis, he’ll always have a spring in his step in my mind. For better or for worse, distance alters our perception of people.

Instead, I will remember his trip to Japan in 2018 and his exuberance over bicycle parking lots; adoration of temples and shrines; as well as willingness to try new things that would usually make him stop. I will cherish the knowledge of how much he loved my son and how he was never hesitant to tell me how proud he was of me. I'll never look at a beach without thinking of him, as it was one of his favorite places in the world to be, regardless of the weather. I will think of him saying grace before meals, trying to remember everyone and everything that he was grateful for, often making us wait for a long time as he made his way through his long list of gratitude.

When I finally do make it home, after the borders open and Covid is a bit more under control, I know I will look into my parent's backyard and wonder what project my dad is working on that day. Is he building something nice for my stepmom? Is he tending to his plants in the greenhouse? Is he fixing a bike? Or is he just puttering around, humming a happy tune? I'll be wondering when he's going to come inside to give me a hug, tell me how happy he is that I'm there, and give me a kiss on the side of my head. I will yearn to hear him tell another story, even one I have absolutely no interest in hearing.

My dad lived a very interesting life. It was filled with intense ups and downs. But no matter the struggle, he always made his way back to finding joy and something to be excited about. And I might miss that most of all, because of all the lessons my dad taught me, the most important one was to seek joy and hold onto it.

Life is just a game

Sticking close to home is getting more and more draining. We have to work harder to find things to do around the house because we feel like we have been on repeat for a while now.

My husband decided it would be fun to buy some more board games. He heard about an international board game shop that might help us find a new game that everyone could play. Why would we need to go to an international board game shop? It all boils down to instructions! We need something that has English instructions so anyone in our household (I) can play at any time.

Just 9km (5.6 miles) away, in Koenji, is Sugorokuya, a cute little shop filled with games from all over the world.

We saw several familiar games and many that we've never seen before from Germany, Australia, and many other places. Each game came with the original instructions as well as a second set in Japanese.

We knew we would pick up a couple new games, but had no idea that we would bring home THE CUTEST GAME EVER MADE! Ever since traveling to Australia in college, I have been obsessed with echidnas! This store carried Echidna Shuffle, a game where little plastic echidnas help bugs find homes in stumps. I'm enamored with this game.

It just goes to show me that when I'm feeling like I'm all alone as a foreigner in this country, there are places I can go to find a little bit of fun.

We're now having lots of family time playing games together. It has been nice to try out some new games.