What happened next...

 

Welcome back.

So, what happened next.

Okaasan stayed in the house, in her coffin, from Sunday night until Tuesday morning.

TBH (and when isn't this blog?), it was a bit unnerving. I slept upstairs again because I couldn't actually think about sleeping in the room next to the coffin. Everytime we went to "greet" Okaasan and open the coffin window, I was nervous about what we might find.

But there was never any change. Just her face, with the bright red lipstick. Peaceful.

In Japan you "greet" the dead, by ringing the table gong and then putting your hands together in prayer. I told Okaasan I would look after her boy. I hope she knew that.

Tuesday was a glorious bright sunny day. The funeral company staff and the coffin transportation car arrived. We put some of Okaasan's things in the coffin with her - red and pink flowers, two of her favorite scarves, her winter hat and the copies of photographs - her husband, the two boys...that British woman.

Then we drove in our car behind the coffin car to the city crematorium. It's at the center of one of the biggest cemetaries. A big brick building, all echoing halls, stone, high ceilings. Groups of mourners in black waiting for  "their" coffin to be brought in on a gurney at the front entrance. Most of the family groups quite large - 8-15 people. Some people carrying a wooden tablet engraved with the Buddhist after-death name of their loved one.

Traditionally, you see a large, framed photo of the deceased at Japanese funerals. Usually carried by the spouse or first son. But we were told Sapporo city doesn't allow this now at the city facility - privacy concerns and a recognition that not every family follows traditional practices. Didn't bother us - since our group was just us two...and we know what Okaasan looks like :-)

Anyway. Family name called and followed the staff thru the cremation process. It's going to get pretty direct from here...just warning you...

Stand here. Bow here. Take this plastic number tag.

Follow the coffin to the furnace hall.

In my experience, cremation in Western countries is softened by screens/curtains.The coffin sliding quietly back into a hidden area...a period of waiting, and then the funeral company respectfully handing the family a ceramic urn of remains.

In Japan. Much more direct.

We stood at the coffin gurney side in front of furnace doors. Middle aged male staff bowed. Plastic number tags were exchanged. More bowing. Okaasan's coffin was slid into the furnace doors, where cold ash bits were clearly visable on the stone surrounds.

At this point Dear Son cried. I cried a bit, too. It really is the end. This person's life has come to this point. And we are the people witnessing it.

💗

And then. We followed a staffer on a long walk along the echoing halls to a family waiting hall - the length of the walk gives you time to cry and laugh and recover. Then you are in a bright room with big windows, a shop, a cafe, ice cream machine for the kids. Big tables and chairs to sit. Staffer explained what comes next - how to listen for your name and how to check the info screen for the room number for the next stage of the process. He gave us an Info Pack with a flow chart explaining about informing officialdom following death. Useful.

We waited for an hour, the Tv is on in the corner. Families sit around chatting. Kids stuffing themselves with noodles. Old men in never-worn-in-years suits (including Dear Son). It felt like the lobby of a slightly dated hotel. Just with everyone wearing black.

Then our family name called, Room Number 5.

I was prepared for what was coming, because we'd done it when the cat was cremated three years ago.

Back to business. Room Number 5.

Middle aged man. Bowed. We bowed.

Staff wheeled in the gurney, the top was now a wide tray containing ashes, bones, nails (coffin) and other bits. More bows. Handed in the plastic number tag - to make sure the coffin and the remains were the same. Then we were given special wooden chopsticks.

Starting from the feet area of the ashes we used the chopsticks to pick up bones and place them in the ceramic urn.  Yes. That. Mostly tiny pieces. a part of a leg bones. Fragments. The staff helped, because he IS on schedule with that waiting room of families to come. The ashes are warm. There is no escaping what this is, what you are doing. 

The last is the head. My last sight of Okaasan was actually her forehead and eye sockets. Fitting really: she'll be watching me from hula dance heaven and checking that I AM looking after her boy!!!

The Adam's apple bone is placed in a separate little urn - it has special signifiance. The soul resides here? I'm not sure - had to Google it. Apparently, it is actually the 2nd vertebrae. Something to do with it looks like a praying Buddha?

Both urns are covered in a pink (our request) fake silk wrapping.

They are presented formally. More bows. We carried the urns in our arms, out thru the side doors and back to the glorious, sunny Tuesday in the parking area.

All done in about two hours.

We brought Okaasan home. We don't have a home Buddhist altar. So I cleared space on our Dead Family chest, by moving the cat's remains urn and photos to the top of the chest of drawers I could make space for Okaasan.

With her husband and first son's photos. A flower. She will stay there until Dear Son takes her to the family temple down near Tokyo later this spring. Maybe there will be a simple temple ceremony? He said it isn't necessary for me to go.

He now starts the whole post-death work. Contacting elderly family members. Informing the city office, tax people etc etc. Selling the family house that's stood empty for 10 years.

Some families follow the Buddhist customs of memorial days....people can "visit" and pay their respects to the remains. We tried to deter friends  from doing this - because you get into a whole gift giving rigmarole. It's not something we need. But one friend managed to come and "greet" Okaasan for a few minutes.

So. It's done.

The event we knew was coming. Came so quickly. And, was completed so quickly.

We are both fine. We talk about Okaasan, smile at the memories. She hadn't lived here in the house for 5 or 6 years, she hadn't been able to talk to us, see us, understand us for two, or more, years. So - we feel the woman we knew left us some time ago. Dementia is like that.

What happens next?

To us?

To this blog?

Another post, another time.