Technorati Tags: death, family, life, photography, portraits
Memorial days and anniversaries and birthdays and other such sundry annual signpost events are a singularly strange phenomenon. Why do we bother? What does it signify other than the fact that time marches on and we're collecting more lines on our faces and scars on our souls (hopefully getting a little wiser as a result). I mean, really? It's all a load of silly sentimental crap. I do, however, like the idea of honouring our ancestors. Remembering them. Celebrating them. It's just strange the we're supposed to have a special day to do that...
October 22 2005. The day that my father died of a broken heart - in all literal and physical ways it is possible to have a broken heart. A year on, and I trust that he is at peace, and with Mum, and that they are having a good old party. I miss them, and all their spectacularly beautiful, hedonistic flaws. Their absence hangs like a shadow in the corner of my eye.
As for those of us who remain.... well, life goes on. Right now, it's like swimming in mud. It hasn't been a good week and not just because of the impending memorial day. Some days it's just all too much, too familiar. The people around me and the troubles they have. The densely populated city I live in. The loved ones I miss. The language I can't speak. The great emptiness in my arms every night. The lips I can't kiss. The march of time. The approaching winter. The photographers block. The students who never learn. The global issues that get worse with every google-news refresh. Shit. I need more wine, I'm depressing myself even more.
What will I be doing on this first anniversary / honouring-the-ancestors day? Heading out to the old stomping ground in Yamanashi-ken to honour the spirits of my ancestors by enjoying the open skies, mountains, forests, lakes and spectacular views of Mt Fuji, having an onsen and drinking beer with an old friend. He has assured me that tofu, broccoli, beer and wine all come as a part of the accom on offer. Ha, he knows me (and my ancestors) too well. (Ok, ok, my direct ancestors would have been horrified by tofu and broccoli, but hey - the rest on offer would have worked well for them)
I LOVE this photo I took of Dad on Christmas Night back in 2004, pretty much the last time I was with him before he died. He was sitting very still so I could take the candlelit photo without using flash, so he's concentrating hard but you can just see a trace of that cheeky glint in his eyes. No doubt he was about to make some wise crack. Wish I could remember what it was.