Lost and Found by Maya Hara

Having grown up in a Japanese Buddhist temple and being ordained a Buddhist priest, I understand death as part of life but at the same time, I am also very much aware of the sense of loss due to this experience. Most of us have lost a loved one or loved ones but each experience is different, the sense of loss might be shared but often it is something we process differently and individually. Having been raised in a temple, I inevitably encounter the loss of many loved ones. Although I have personalized this reading to those I have personally lost, I am sure many can relate to the loss of those close to them. I dedicate this reading to all who our departed loved ones.

Obaa-chan, Grandma, I miss you but you are always here with me.

Oji-chan, Uncle, you died much too soon.

Ebina-sensei, my kind, generous tea teacher, I still had so much to learn from you.

Yotchan, my friend, you were only 20 and lived much longer than the doctors said you would but it still feels unfair that you died so young.

When you passed, I felt a sense of loss as if a large hole appeared in my heart. Each time, I tried to fill it but I didn’t really know how. No one or no thing can ever replace you. I feel lost as if I’m moving through a dark haze, an ominous cloud hanging over my heart. Often I want to talk to you, to hear your voice again, but you are no longer here.

Obaa-chan, Grandma, you lived a good long life. We knew your time had come but it didn’t make saying good-bye any easier.

After you died, I had a dream. You appeared to me as your child self. You wear a little girl’s kimono and geta, wooden clogs, your hair is tied up in a high bun on top of your head just like in the black-and-white photos you once showed me. You must be no more than 7 or 8. You look up at me with your round inquisitive eyes, you take my hand and say, “Everything will be alright. I’m always here with you.”

Oji-chan, Uncle, you died of lung cancer even though you never smoked a cigarette in your life. You were only 55 but the cancer consumed you quickly. Towards the end, you were only skin and bones and had difficulty breathing. I didn’t want see you go but was glad that you were relieved of your suffering but I still miss you so much.

Ebina-sensei, my tea teacher, you too died in your 50s. You were an amazing teacher. You were so knowledgeable, generous, kind, fun, and spontaneous. You understood the rules and formality of the traditional world of Japanese tea practice, yet you wasn’t afraid to break those rules. I know not all tea teachers are so, you were a rare bird. You had great taste in your selection of tea utensils and kimono and treated your students to the best of everything – the best matcha, the best sweets, the finest utensils.

When each of you passed, I felt like a hole pierce through my heart. I don’t know how to fill it or what to fill it with. I stumble around in darkness and fall into the deep hole within my heart. It’s even darker inside, like an impenetrable wall. Obaa-chan, tasukete. Grandma, help me.

You come to my side as a little girl with your wide, round eyes.

“Everything is alright. I’m always here with you.”

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Flickering Zipper by Eric Murphy

It’s been nine years since I last saw you and yet I dream as if you were still here beside us. I recall the day we went to the movies but then the theatre was filled with smoke and we were rushed outside because of a terrorist attack. On a more pleasant note, I recall the time me, you, Engla and Monica came from shopping at Lucky's. It was a beautiful and sunny fun day and felt too real not to be true; in either case it was heartbreaking to have to wake up to your absence once again.

I remember growing up, people use to call me "The Apple of his mother's eye". Remember that time Walgreens first opened on E. 18th and you help me win that bike during their first sweepstake giveaway? I posted that picture of us on Facebook. Oh guess what? Engla reposted the obituary picture of you in your wedding dress on Facebook. We got about 30 more likes and our friend Cecilia said, "I thought, oh Rhianna got married? then she read the comments and said , wow she looked just like Rhianna!! Beautiful! Dana say you look like Engla but he also agreed you looked like Rhianna too." Thought you might enjoy that one ;)

I wish you had a chance to meet Joyce, we call her the "Queen of Oakland" because she is treated like a celebrity here. My friend Steve just got a big street banner of her put up on 19th and Broadway in downtown Oakland as one of Oakland's living legends. She's a beautiful black woman going on 70 by law, going on 50 by nature. She is kinda short, funny, innovative, with a signature short white hair that adds to her celebrity and is favored among celebrities themselves to city official to homeless people on the street. She told me she wished she could have met the woman who raised such a nice young man. In addition to her own two offsprings, she "adopted" many young people as her own, primarily in Oakland, I was lucky to be one of them. She runs a gallery in downtown Oakland that has been in business for 13 years and counting. In the four years I worked with her, I have to say it's an honor to be partly responsible with keeping its legacy going. Somehow I feel like you adopted her.

By the way, Dona took me to Jordan and Egypt and it was so fun. We stood on Mt. Nebo where Moses stood overlooking the promise land. It is so funny growing up reading those scriptures in the bible with you to finally walk the paths we read about. The view to the "Promise Land" was surreal though. We got to swim in the Dead Sea and you know I can't swim, lol. It's all salt water so I was floating most of the time. We continued on to Egypt and got a chance to go inside of one of the Pyramids. It was a trip of a lifetime to visit one of the cradles of civilization. Dona passed away the year after our trip. I am glad you two had a chance to meet, it made the transition easier. She adopted me as her grandson, but I assuming you adopted her too.

I have to say, watching you in that hospital bed, breathing your last breath choked the life out of me. I just knew you were going to recover as you did the first time. In the weeks following, I had a nervous breakdown in the middle of the last gallery I worked as I thought about you. Kate quickly came from behind the desk to comfort me and remind me you were still here. In my heart I knew that was true thinking about the week after you passed, I slowly entered your room and no one was there prior, nor was there any windows opened or movements made. Somehow the zipper on your purse flickered steadily by itself for nearly a minute like a little flame and I knew then you haven't left yet. This was the same for Engla as I went by her job. She heard a voice say, Eric, she immediately turned around and heard me calling her. We knew you were still here.

I am reminded of the 40 days Jesus continued to walk the earth after his resurrection to remind his disciples and the hundreds of witnesses he is still with us. In a way I believe he granted us the opportunity to visit our loves prior to our final destination.

Anyway just want to let you know all nine of us are doing well. Patrick is down in Texas. Jimmy and Vicki is out in Dublin, Dana and Tanya are out near Union City and the rest of us are still here. Since Daddy's passing last year, and your absence I feel like heaven is survived by only the stars now. But I am sure you already know that. But with Every Loss and New Life is Born!

Love you always Mama,
The Apple of your Eye