Father's Note Part 2

It was decided that the wake would be held at home the following day, and
I was once again struck by my own incompetence.

Truly,
I blamed myself for not being able to do anything to show filial piety.

Before the wake began,
when I finally faced my father in his casket at our family home, I couldn't move a single step while staring at him, and all I could do was kneel and cry the whole time.

Even though I would occasionally see my father,
we almost never talked.
When I would occasionally drop by my parents' house,
he would ask,
Are you doing well?
and I would reply,
I'm doing well.
That was the extent of our conversations, and
I barely remember the last conversation we had.
Even though we both liked alcohol, perhaps because we were both men and felt shy,we never once drank together.

My heart was filled with regret, and it became very painful.

The next day, after the funeral was over and I had returned to my parents' house in the evening and calmed down a little,
I took my father's bag and went into his room.

Because his death was sudden, his room was still left in a mess.
It was cluttered with documents and books.

Truly, my father was gone.

As I was looking around my departed father's room, Chiaki came in.
Chiaki also had a lonely look on her face.

I suddenly remembered the letter and the note,
I found my father's note and a letter, a really worn-out one that looked like he'd been using it for ages. It was in my father's bag.

I said to Chiaki, and took the note and letter out of the bag I had brought.

It seems the letter is addressed to me. I haven't looked inside yet. I talked to Mom about how we should look at the note together with you once things settled down, so I have it.

Huh? What's that? Haha, that makes me nervous.

Then we returned to the living room,
and decided to look at the letter and the note with Mom and Chiaki.

I opened the envelope of the letter.

The letter contained a message addressed to me.

After we finished reading the letter, I think various feelings came back to us,
and we also felt a little relieved.
Mom and Chiaki had peaceful expressions on their faces.

I wonder when he wrote this. But he probably always carried it around so no one would see it. Mom always tries to clean up Dad's room right away and rummages through it. By the way, what about the note?
Chiaki said, so I opened the first page of the note.

There, in my father's handwriting, were many words engraved, and I felt my hand tighten slightly.

The note showed signs of having been used for a very long time,
and it was quite old, so the letters were faded.
However, it didn't seem impossible to read.
I realized that he had been writing in it like a diary.

When I suddenly looked at the beginning of the written text,
To Shutawas written there.

Huh...

I unintentionally closed the note I had just started looking at.
Then I looked at it again, and immediately closed it again.

We sensed it just a little bit.

A note addressed to me?

The moment I thought that, I realized I might not be able to stop crying in front of Mom and Chiaki, so I felt I couldn't look through the contents of the note.

Isn't this a note addressed to you, big brother? It's really hard to read though, haha.

...

For now, why don't you keep it, big brother? Once you're done reading it, if it's okay for me to see it, lend it to me.
Chiaki said that with a smile.
At the same time,

"By the way, how come there aren't any letters or notebooks addressed to me?"
Chiaki said, sounding dissatisfied.

Mom also added,
"Maybe Shuta has them?"
Mom was smiling.

"Alright, then I'll take them home for now. I'll look through them carefully and give them to you later."

When I said that, both of them smiled, and
they hurriedly put the notebook in my bag right there and rushed to the entrance.

After putting the notebook in Dad's bag and leaving my parents' house,
in the slightly gloomy evening air,
I walked away from my parents' house at a slightly brisk pace.

Once I left the entrance,
I couldn't stop my tears after all.

While the three of us were looking at the contents of the letters at my parents' house,
I received words I had never heard from Dad before,
and the tears I had been holding back came overflowing out.
I felt a mix of both happiness and sadness.

It started raining a little again.
The sensation of the light rain hitting my body
felt a little gentle.

"Welcome home, why don't you rest a bit? There's dinner too."
When I arrived home, my wife said that to me.

"Welcome home, Daddy!"

"Daddy, make sure you wash your hands!"

"I'm home. Were you both being good kids?"

My 5-year-old son Shu and 3-year-old daughter Momo called out to me,
and as soon as I got home, Momo started lecturing me like a grown-up.

Children really watch adults closely.
Shu is very sensitive, and perhaps sensing that I wasn't feeling well,
"I'll sleep with Daddy today,"
he said, snuggling up to me.
I wonder if I made him worry.

Perhaps relieved to see my children's faces,
I realized how exhausted I was,
and collapsed onto the sofa.

My wife, who speaks to me gently when she sees me like that,
is truly my support.

After finishing dinner and getting ready for bed,
I almost fell asleep thanks to Shu and Momo snuggling up to me, but
I suddenly remembered the notebook and woke up.
Looking to the side, my wife is sleeping with the children.

I quietly went into my room alone,
took the notebook out of Dad's bag and placed it on my desk,
stared at the notebook, took a deep breath, and sat in my chair.

What could be written inside? I can finally check.

The cover of the notebook is old and nothing is written on it.
I stared at it for a moment,
took another deep breath,

I
opened the notebook.

March 1996
To Shuta.

How old are you, Shuta, as you read this note?

Right now, Dad is
writing this note at the shop before work begins.
And right now, Shuta, you are in second grade, sitting next to me, very curious about this note

and saying,
"Let me see, let me see!"

I just told you,
"I'll show you when you're a grown-up."

You always ask me to play with your favorite palm-sized wooden frog before my work starts.

Shuta, you used to always say,
"Let me see, let me see!"
right next to me while I was writing in my recipe notebook.
Do you remember?

Actually, seeing you like that,
I had the idea to write a note that I could give to you when you grew up,
and that is what I am writing now.

Right next to me as I write this note, Shuta,
you are reading a book because I can't pay attention to you.

You really love reading books, Shuta.

I was an indoor person too,
so maybe you take after me a little?

How old are you now, Shuta, as you look at this note?

Have you become a fine adult?

I started this shop when I was 34.
Maybe you are around that age too?

I don't know if this note will be just one volume or ten by the time you see it, but I think I'll write about you growing up into an adult in this note.

And someday, I think I'll hand it to you myself.

I think I'll be able to feel how you grow up into an adult.

Well then, see you on the next page.

From Dad

I couldn't believe it.

When I was in second grade, this was the note Dad was writing back when we used to play together before work started at the izakaya he ran called Gennoya.

I half couldn't believe it.
But looking at the dates, they were definitely from when I was in elementary school.

I felt a mix of kindness and loneliness.

And then, memories of myself talking incessantly beside my father while he was writing something came flooding back.

Is it something like a parenting diary?

It's not like Dad handed it to me directly.
Just as I was thinking that,
the room door suddenly opened, so I reflexively hid the note in a hurry.

“Sorry, I was asleep. I haven't folded the laundry yet.”
My wife said that as she woke up.

“It's okay, go back to sleep. I'll do it.”

“Thanks. But I think you're tired, so I'll do it tomorrow morning, you can leave it. Are you still up?”

It was past 11:30 PM.

“I'll fold the laundry and then go to bed.”

“Thanks. Well then, goodnight.”
My wife closed the door and went back to the bedroom.

Feeling a bit bewildered by the fact that I had instinctively hidden the note because I didn't want her to know about it for some reason,
I decided to just fold the laundry, so I took the clothes out of the basket, spread them out, and started folding.

While I was folding, various thoughts crossed my mind.

I mean, did he carry that note around every day?
Dad says he left it for me, but what is written in it?

Dad started an izakaya called 'Gennoya' when I was four and Chiaki was two.
He ran it smoothly for a while, but at one point, he developed cancer and had to repeat hospitalizations and surgeries. The cancer was cured, but his body was weak, and he often got sick and was hospitalized repeatedly, eventually forcing him to close the shop.

Various complicated feelings came flooding back.
I don't have any memories of talking properly with my father since I was in the upper grades of elementary school.
It's closer to a feeling of not being able to remember than not having any.

While I was trying to dig up those memories, I finished folding the laundry.

I wanted to see the next page quickly.

Unable to suppress that urge,
I immediately returned to my desk in my room,
picked up the note, and turned to the next page.