CHAPTER 46

My father’s condition remained unchanged for over a week. During that time I sent a long letter to my brother in Kyushu and asked my mother to write to my sister. I had a strong feeling that these would probably be the last letters detailing to them my father’s state of health. Our letters included the information that we would telegram when the time came, so they should stand ready to come at short notice.

My brother was in a busy line of work. My sister was pregnant. Neither was in a position to be called until my father was in evident danger. On the other hand, it would be awful if they were asked to make the journey only to arrive too late. I felt a private weight of responsibility about exactly when the telegrams should be sent.

“I couldn’t give you a precise answer on that, but you must understand that the danger can arise at any time,” said the doctor, who had come from the nearby railway station. I talked it over with my mother, and we asked him to arrange for a nurse from the hospital to be hired. When my father laid eyes on this woman, who arrived at his bedside in a white uniform to greet him, he had a peculiar expression on his face.

My father had long known that he was mortally ill. Nevertheless, he was unaware that death was now fast approaching.

“When I’m well again, I might take another trip to Tokyo,” he remarked. “Who knows when you’ll die? You have to do all the things you want while you’re alive to do them.”

My mother could only respond with “I hope you’ll take me along when you go.”

But sometimes he grew deeply dejected. “Do make sure to take good care of your mother when I die,” he said to me.

His “when I die” evoked a certain memory. That evening after my graduation, when I was preparing to leave Tokyo, Sensei had used this same phrase several times in the conversation with his wife. I remembered Sensei’s smiling face as he spoke, and his wife blocking her ears against the inauspicious words. The words had been merely hypothetical then, but now they rang with the certainty that sometime soon they would be fulfilled.

I could not emulate Sensei’s wife’s response, but I did need to find a way of distracting my father from his thoughts.

“Let’s hear you talking a bit more optimistically. Didn’t you say you’d take a trip to Tokyo when you were well again?” I asked. “With Mother. You’ll be amazed when you see it next, at how it’s changed. The streetcars, for instance—there are all sorts of new routes now. And once streetcars go into a neighborhood, of course, the whole look of the area changes. And the city divisions were recently revised—there’s not a moment day or night when Tokyo stands still.” My tongue went prattling on out of control, while he listened contentedly.

The presence of an invalid meant that there were a lot more comings and goings at the house. Every few days one or another of the relatives called to visit my father. Among them were some who lived farther away and were normally not in close contact. One remarked as he left, “I was wondering how he’d be, but he seems quite well. He talks without effort, and I must say, to look at his face, he hasn’t lost a bit of weight.” The household, almost too quiet for comfort when I first arrived, was now filled with increasing bustle and activity.

My father’s illness was the one thing that stood still in the midst of all this coming and going, and it was slowly growing worse. After consulting with my mother and uncle, I finally sent off the telegrams I had prepared. My brother replied that he would soon be there, and my sister’s husband replied similarly—her previous pregnancy had ended in a miscarriage, and her husband had already intimated that they were taking particular care that it wouldn’t become the pattern, so he would probably come in her place.