Yesterday I went to my first Japanese memorial. Funerals in Japan are very formal and I have yet to attend the official part of them. When I do, I will need to brush up on my etiquette. Yesterday’s event was more casual, an affair put on by the NPO where Asada Daisuke worked for 16 years, but I still should have reviewed funeral customs.
Asada Daisuke was a much loved and well-regarded member of Oyama Senmaida, the rice farming trust and culture preservation organization. He passed away unexpectedly at the hospital after a heart procedure in December. He was only 47.
250 people gathered at Oyama Senmaida’s Tanada Club for the ceremony. There was a reception desk to sign in and I realised I should have prepared a koden, a funeral envelope with a monetary offering, but I hadn’t even considered that part of the funeral tradition would extend to this. Oops. I signed us in and apologised for not having the offering. They seemed unconcerned.
When Tod & I approached the crowd, I was dismayed to see so many people in black suits. The invitations said “regular clothes” but I guess tradition holds strong. I was wearing fleecy teal pants and a red fleece hoodie under my black coat. I knew we’d be seated outside and I wanted to stay warm. As I looked around later, I did see more “regular clothes” than I had at first, but they were dark, subdued colors. Oh well, someone had to be the most informal but I was still kicking myself for not thinking this through a bit more carefully.
The memorial opened with a performance of the rice planting dance from Sato Mai, a local ballet about agriculture and tradition. Poignant.
After the dance, the staff set up a television on the stage and the cameramen shifted indoors so we could watch the ceremony. There were tributes and eulogies from the mayor, the heads of local organizations, a colleague, and a high schooler who had participated in Asada-san’s nature programs. Then a presentation of photos including video clip of Asada-san praising and eating the Oyama rice. Then his parents spoke. There were many tears in the venue and outside.
I didn’t know Asada-san well. We’d had a few casual conversations. Tod remembers him telling us all about the local frogs. But most everyone else had deep memories of him connected to the Kamogawa land he loved. We were there to support them as much as to farewell him.
At most funerals, I wonder how my own will be. Do I want to have touched so many hearts that a crowd of people gather to say goodbye? It would be gratifying (if the dead could feel gratified), but I am not on that path. I will more likely die in obscurity with a curious few arriving to steal my bed curtains or see what happened to “that foreign lady who always smiled at me, but mostly kept to herself.” I guess that’s okay, too. I will never know.
As the ceremony wound down, everyone queued up to lay flowers in front of his memorial photo. Since we hadn’t made a donation, I held back. Instead, I helped to gather the folding chairs and load them onto Kawasaki-san’s kei truck. It was done in mere moments; Kawasaki-san loaded a single chair into the truck, then I added two more, and soon a whole group of practical minded folks joined in for a useful activity.
The sun was low in the sky as we walked home and Tod spotted iridescent clouds. I smiled, knowing that Mother Nature dressed herself colorfully for Asada-san, too.
