It's strange how events unfold in one's life. Some people you know for a decade disappear from your life never to be seen or thought of again, while others you know for a short period disappear, but remain in your psyche, like a ghost.
It is the short life that lingers on, its end embedded in your mind with an exclamation point. A calm breeze brushes your cheek, a familiar scent on the wind touches your mind, and there you are, confronted with a ghost, thought long gone.
It evokes a certain whimsy. Fantasy. The need for nostalgia to become solid and real one more time. To feel those hands, hear that voice, see that smile. But all you’re left with is the memory of what was once a vibrant, beautiful human being. And that memory you can no longer trust, as it adds far more than it can ever remember, to fill the gaps of your inattention.
Inattention permeates your entire waking life. During conversations and meetings with friends are you ever really there, truly paying attention? Do you notice their countenance, the slight lines of life and living in the face, the possible faint remnant of all the pain and suffering in the eyes? When they speak, can you hear the music? The strange and alien rhythms and atonal clusters of notes that make up a human voice?
It is within the seemingly small things where relationship begins. It is the odd turn of phrase catching your attention unexpectedly. It is the way the eyes move to meet yours, then dart away once the stare becomes too longing.
It is when you realize the tiny size of her wrist, and you could wrap your middle finger and thumb around it and still have wiggle room to spare.
Today I am remembering a friend that died on March 10th, 2008. Her name was Mayumi.
I don’t know why she keeps coming back to me. It could be years, and I’ve moved into other areas of life, in other places in the world, and suddenly she’s there, as if she never left.
She smiles and tells me stories of picking wildflowers with her friends. She tells me she likes to write in her diary. I ask her what she writes. “Only the good,” she says. “Only the good.” Documenting hours of only sunshine.
She asks me to play Chopin Nocturnes for her. I do.
She gives me a message for Akiko. “Thank you for always remembering.” Then, with the next breath, she is gone.
And I am left alone, with only the memory. But I will carry it, until I am no longer able to carry anything.
6 comments, since July
Thanks, Brooks! Nice to hear from you again.
Lovely to find a new post Takuin, I miss them. So beautifully expressed and perfectly timed. I've noticed that people such as Mayumi leave a part of themselves in us as they pass through our lives - a way of looking through their eyes - that we absorb and makes our lives just that much more wonder-filled. Thanks for sharing your two stories of Mayumi - I missed the first one somehow. With love, vicki.
Thanks, David. It is good to write about Mayumi again, and I'm glad someone is still out there, haha.
Even though we are no longer in the same country, Akiko and I still remember Mayumi every year during the ancestor memorial service. It is not only limited to those in our 'personal' bloodline, so we write out a card for Mayumi each year and send it to the main temple.
I am glad I can share these memories with others, even if just a few.
Oh, the new blog look is just a placeholder. I've been an early adopter of a new blog technology using an 'A.I.' to make design changes on the fly. It is still in beta so it has not been fully released yet. My intention is to use that here once they release it for use. I'm not setting my expectations too high, but it sounded interesting so I thought, "Why the hell not?"
Vicki,
Thanks! But actually, you might have missed one. It is called Mayumi's Letter.
Maybe she did leave something behind in me. As far as I know when I die, everything that I am and everything I know will be gone forever. Perhaps I prefer her to go on a bit longer, and without her dependency upon me to exist?
She was cute. Is cute. And she always had to push her glasses up on her nose because they kept slipping down. :-)
A fitting tribute and a reminder to stay attentive to the other as they pass in and out of your life. Knowing at some point all you have are those whispers of memory and reminders through sensual experiences of sound and sight shared. I’m sure she was a beautiful person. Thanks, Takuin!
"It’s strange how events unfold in one’s life." This is so true, Takuin. Loved the post. I know people like that. And recently, I am one who moved away. Some friends are worried they will disappear from my memory.
This difference too, of ones we resonate with. I also know people who I have not see in years but who I think of regularly. We often don't know the impact we have had on others.
An energy healer I know speaks of energetic "cords of attachment" we make that can bring someone to mind like this.
And there is Takuin himself, and the shared journey we had together as bloggers, coming from such distinct perspectives. But here he is, with a new blog look, risen again. ;-)