[Novel] Meido Moteiku

After the first anniversary memorial service, the topic of "cleaning up" came up naturally. It wasn't exactly a hoarder's house, but as is typical for people of that generation, my parents' home had quite a lot of stuff.

“Hey, what is this?”
My younger sister pointed to a paper bag wrapped tightly in packing tape. It was a small department store bag. It wasn't very heavy. The contents seemed to be a stack of paper. A small note, scribbled on the back of a flyer, was taped to it.

“Meido Moteiku”

“A maid cafe maid?”
“maid mo take?”
“No, Meido mo teiku?”

As we were giggling together,
“...Doesn't that mean 'Meido' as in the afterlife?”
my elementary school-aged nephew chimed in.
“Grandma must have had secrets she wanted to take to the afterlife.”
My nephew said this nonchalantly, without taking his eyes off his smartphone.

“Oh, 'Meido' (afterlife) take!”
My sister and I muttered in unison.

If we had known, we should have put it in her coffin, but there was nothing we could do about it now.
I felt both curious and somewhat afraid of my mother's secrets. Is it okay to dispose of them as burnable trash? Or should I have a ritual burning or a memorial service for them?

“You won't know unless you look,”
my sister said, and she quickly cut the tape with scissors. About ten sealed letters came out from inside.

They were all letters addressed to my mother. I recognized the elegant handwriting. It was the handwriting of my ex-husband's mother.

“...However, was there really no fault on your part, Yuri-san? It is impossible for me to have children with Yuri-san. A life without children is so lonely and empty... Can you not understand Yoshitaka's loneliness as well?...”
“...Please, I beg of you. The child to be born is innocent. Please, could you persuade your mother to understand reason and agree to the divorce?...”

...I shouldn't have read them.
Instantly, my blood boiled. Only one-sided arguments were written in beautiful, elegant script. I hadn't known until today that such letters had been sent to my mother. During the divorce proceedings, not a single one had reached me.

“...What should we do?”
my sister asked, efficiently sorting the contents of the drawer into burnable and non-burnable trash.
“There's only one choice!”
I said, and tore the letter paper to shreds. A crisp, satisfying sound echoed.
One by one, I carefully tore them up. Rip, rip, until they were small and fine enough that the characters were no longer legible.

“She said she'd take all the bad things with her to the afterlife,”
my nephew said, as if talking to himself.
I gently stroked the "Meido Moteiku" note.

“Ole! Ole! Meido Moteiku! Meido! Meido! Meido Moteiku!”
My sister waved her hands to a samba rhythm.
“Ole!”
I shouted, and scattered the freshly made confetti vigorously throughout the room.

(1200 characters)

I am gathering my courage to participate in this project 💦.
I am a newcomer, but I look forward to working with you.