Blackbeard's Santa Day (The Christmas Cake Delivered to a Wake)

(Record of December 24, 2019, 5 years ago)
Yesterday was the first day of the 17th year of delivering cakes, a tradition I have continued since starting my provider business.

This day six years ago is a deeply memorable one, as I delivered cakes while leaving my beloved cat Shari at home, knowing her life would likely fade away that very day. I received the news that she had passed away while at a client's home, and I couldn't hide my flowing tears as I continued to deliver cakes while receiving words of comfort from my members. Every year, this day brings events that leave a deep mark on my heart, and this year, too, there was a sad farewell, yet it became a memorable day that made me reaffirm the past and the future...

Seventeen years ago, as I expanded my provider business, it differed from the advertising design company and projects I had worked on before. I began to have connections with ordinary households who became 'members' and purchased computers, and it was then that I started giving them Christmas cakes as a substitute for year-end gifts.
I personally intended it as a gesture of gratitude to members who had worked hard to make relatively expensive purchases. I would go around at night to houses with lights on, ring the doorbell, say 'It's Santa!', and hand over the cake. Among them, many people would 'burst into tears' when they saw me standing there with a cake upon opening the door.

Those who cried were mostly members living alone, and for many, they had long been disconnected from the bustle of 'Christmas.' Even a 'black-bearded Santa' like me, who appeared unexpectedly, was enough to make them grab my hand in gratitude and joy.
Another person was out, so I left the cake with a Christmas card featuring our company's character, 'Atlas-kun,' at the entrance. The next morning, they called me and said in an excited voice, 'I'm sorry I was out yesterday, but I was so moved when I saw the cake at the entrance! Since my daughters got married and it's just me and my husband, we haven't had a Christmas cake in years! We enjoyed it together yesterday, and it made us so happy. Thank you so much!'

This person was the wife of a facility construction company owner who had purchased all their office computers from us and placed full trust in me for everything from installation and setup to troubleshooting. She told me over and over again that this unexpected event of me 'coming to give a cake'—something outside of work—was what made her happiest of all.
From that first year's experience, I learned that even my trivial actions could make some people feel happy and moved. I felt joy myself, and hoping that more people would feel joy, happiness, and fun, I began to enthusiastically carry out the cake deliveries every year.

...But after doing these deliveries for a few years, I decided on one rule.
'I will no longer deliver to those who do not show joy or express gratitude.'

I realized there are 'types of people' who don't even make a phone call after I leave a cake at their door while they are out, or who, when I stand in the snowy night and offer a cake, ask 'Why?' and when I say 'Because you bought a computer from us this year,' accept it as if it were only natural without saying thank you or showing any joy. I decided to stop spending my time and heart on such people.

The phrase 'forgetting self for the benefit of others' means to forget oneself and prioritize the benefit of others, but I realized that if I myself do not feel joy in making others happy and pleased, such actions would drain my heart and I would not be able to continue.

Amidst all that, six years ago, as I wrote at the beginning.
Even after receiving the news that my beloved cat Shari had passed away, as I went from house to house delivering cakes, there were people who worried about me, asking 'What's wrong?' based on the tone of my voice.

When I said, 'Actually, the cat I've had for 17 years just passed away...', they would talk about when their own dogs or cats had passed away, and while chatting at the entrance, they would shed tears with me.
That was the wife of the facility construction company who had called me with joy in the first year of cake deliveries.
She actually came to our company at the beginning of this year and told me that she had been hospitalized for a while and that she had cancer.
It was pancreatic cancer, and she said that surgery couldn't help, so she would be undergoing chemotherapy and radiation therapy.
She spoke of her resolve regarding how long she could survive rather than whether she could be cured. It was truly regrettable to hear such a confession from a valued member whose character I respected and with whom I shared a mutual understanding.

Later, when I was talking to another member who is a doctor, I heard that his brother had been completely cured by Opdivo (a drug expected to be a miracle cure for cancer). I called that member and told her that since they could introduce me to the hospital, if she and her husband (the president) could consult and it was possible, please, by all means, receive the treatment! However, a few days later, she called me while crying, saying, 'My doctor says it won't work for my cancer. I'm sorry you went to such lengths for me, but I will do my best with my current treatment. Atlas-san, thank you so much.'

Ten months later, although I hesitated to ask about her condition, I went to her house last night because I wanted to deliver a cake to her, as she looked forward to my deliveries every year. When I brought my car in front of her house, I saw a sight I didn't want to see... Cruelly, there was a 'period of mourning' lantern placed at the entrance.

'Wake: December 22, Funeral: December 23'

The funeral had just ended, and that day was today.
'Ah, I couldn't hand over this year's cake...'
I worried in the car about what to do, but since today is a special day, I decided to forgive my own impropriety and enter the entrance where the incense burner was still present.

When I said, 'My name is Atlas, may I speak to the president?', someone who seemed to be a relative called the husband out.
The moment the husband saw me standing at the entrance with the cake, his face crumpled and he teared up.
I almost choked up myself, but...
'...I am sorry for coming at such a time. I didn't know she had passed away until I came to the entrance...'
'But, I wanted to hand the cake to your wife on this day, which has become an annual tradition... I know it's improper, but would you please accept it?'
As I said this with a choked voice, he replied,
'Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much!'
'My wife was really looking forward to you bringing the cake every single year. I'm sure she's happy.'
'No, thank you so much for stopping by. My wife is happy too,' he said as he accepted it.
And then,
'Atlas-san, please continue this in the future. My wife was the same, but I'm sure everyone is looking forward to 'you' coming. She said with joy that your feelings were a real source of strength and support for her. I think that not only my wife, but many other customers, like my wife, are genuinely happy that you put your heart into this for them every year, and are truly waiting for you. So please continue, and thank you so much...'
Even though I had handed him a cake when I should have come back later to bring incense money, the president thanked me through his tears. I couldn't say anything, just bowed my head in gratitude and let my tears flow.

For someone like me, what I can do is only trivial, but it was an event on the day of cake delivery on December 23, 2019, that made me feel even more strongly that I want to continue doing what makes everyone happy.

Gassho, and Merry Christmas!

#Essay