The venue was on the 2nd floor, At the entrance we had to fill-in a form with our names and addresses. We give this form together with the envelope (see the picture) to the receptionists which was categorized into company employees and ordinary people. The envelope is also decorated with black ribbon to distinguish it from other envelopes for other occasions. The money we put inside for a wedding has to be an even number and the lowest amount is ¥30,000 ($300) of new bills but for a funeral, it shouldn't be much and the bill should look old. We only put ¥3,000. The reason, it's rude to hand in a clean, new bill and a big amount of money because it means you've been preparing for the person's death. After handing in the envelope, we receive a small box. Later I learned that it could be salt, towel or food.
The hall was decorated with lots of beautifully arranged flowers. The dominant color was white. The wall in front was entirely covered with flowers and in the middle was the deceased's picture. The body is cremated so all you can see is a small wooden box under the picture.
A few minutes later a priest dressed in intricately ornamented garment enters from behind and walks towards the front where the ash was placed. Then he kneels and chants and we bowed at some points of the chanting. Since I couldn't understand anything --- or maybe none of us did not because the chant was as old as Buddhism in Japan --- I tried to focus my mind on something else like guessing the note. I don't remember how long the chants were or how many chants he sang.
As the priests continue to chant, the emcee started to introduce the family. And they went to the altar to do the go-soko. They were followed by distinguished guests. Then followed by us. The day before, my friend, Tomohiro, taught me how to do the go-soko. I would pick a pinch of the "sand" in a container then raise it to touch my forehead and put them slowly --- like sprinkling salt when cooking --- into the other container. On the train on our way, my other companions corrected me that I didn't have to touch my forehead... I asked the meaning of this gesture but none of them knew.
When it was my turn, I noticed there were six pairs of these bowls of sand. A lady guided me to the leftmost pair. The spirit of the deceased was probably laughing at me because I looked awkward. I just followed what I observed, I also bowed facing the relatives, then went to do the go-soko but I was too self-conscious. I did the sequence--- bow, pick some "sand", raise it, sprinkle into the other container, put my hand together, bow again -- in probably less than a minute because when I turned to leave, my batch wasn't finished yet. And whatever came to my mind, I bowed facing everyone seated and I noticed that no one bowed. Then, I left quickly hoping that nobody noticed my mistake.
Outside the hall the wife and the daughter were waiting. I felt pity for the wife not only because I can feel her deep grief when we shook hands but because she had to greet all these probably a hundred or so guests. But again this is part of the ceremony --- shoganai. An old couple were sitting nearby, probably the parents of the deceased. I bowed to them as well then went back to my place.
After the ceremony, the widow read a very touching memoir from the time of how they met and fell in love to the time of her sudden trip to Bali in Indonesia where her husband passed away. It was well written. A lot of people started to sob. I know him for only a few years but the reading had brought back a lot of memories, how much more for his family and close friends?
After that we were invited to move to the 3rd floor, the widow had to stay at the 2nd floor to bade goodbye to the guests who had to leave early. At the reception room the food was ready. The lady serving was moving around persistently inviting the guests to start eating but they seemed not to hear her --- nobody touched the food. If I was the host I would be angry because it could mean that the food wasn’t good. But it was not the case. It is good manners to wait for the host before we start eating. Everybody knows it even the children who were patiently waiting. And the lady serving us also knew that it is polite to keep inviting us to eat even if we wouldn’t --- or couldn’t.
The widow entered carrying the wooden box and carefully placed it near the picture. She urged the guests to start eating and as soon as she started distributing the plates and chopsticks, the guests started to gather around the table. The food was traditional Japanese like sushi and was fresh and delicious. Beer was also served. I joined the children’s table so I was the only one drinking the bottle of beer. I raised my glass towards the picture of the deceased and silently said, “kampai”. I literally meant to empty the glass… and later the bottle. I smiled and I pictured him smiling back at me and I felt a sudden sadness inside me.
Soon my companions joined me and we had a wonderful chat recalling our memories with him. At almost 6pm, we said goodbye to the widow. When I arrived home I opened the box and it was some small Japanese biscuits. I'm glad they were light because I had to bring home 3 boxes for two other friends who couldn't attend.
Yukio-san, we will miss you.