The white petal fluttered as it flew along; propelled not by any power of its own, but carried by wings of the wind which tore it from its home. Spring as arrived in this year of no winter; the high pressure from the warm El Nino, The Child, fought off the cold Arctic air, bringing new Firsts daily. The First dandelions in Kyoto came two months early, on a warm morning in mid-January. The First skylarks sang in February.
And now the sure sign of the change in seasons, the First signs of Sakura, cherry blossoms, are found. The early loss of this one won’t stop the full force of their dazzling beauty, which lies still ahead; when mountains filled with Valentine’s pinks and glacier white inspire souls to rejoice at the visual feast, crying “Spring is here!” The joy of spring, of the newly born, tender plants and animals. Harmonious voices singing testimony to the miracle of life new-born.
Another soft petal has fallen. Brought by Ian as a gift of spring, this blossom could not withstand the force of nature, and will soon be torn away. Though not zero, the chance of a miracle to restore this miracle is too small. The embryonic sac, at the right size of 3 cm, contains not the tiniest signs of life, nothing as large as even a grain of rice. Its mission recalled, the misshaped sac is collapsing, and will soon be carried out, not by the force of the wind, but by the flow of blood.
Winter has arrived in Tokyo. The bright sunshine cannot warm the new coldness within my heart. The hopes and dreams are swept away in this crazy world where seasons run in reverse. First spring, then winter. No guardsman is posted, but the closed office door screams to the staff that today is not the day to call. Mi-chan’s father is crying by himself, and will not open his door. How can he? His heart has slammed shut and the consoling embrace of his loving wife is miles and hours away. Tonight we can cry together again, as we did when we left the kind doctor’s care, but now the tears are shed apart.
The clouds are still there, but have thinned enough for the sun to create shadows on the ground, matched by the shadows on my soul. So much I wanted to share the joys of fatherhood, of learning to write of happiness, instead of being, once again, the bearer of bad news.
There will be no ashes this time. No funeral nor friends bringing flowers. The law says that this is not a child, but the law governs not our hearts. We will place our hands together, and take the early present for our little one, a Teddy Bear smaller than my hand but infinitely larger than Mi-chan, and set it by Ian’s ashes for our first son to take it to our first daughter.
Mi-chan, where are you? Where you not strong enough for this world? Did Ian bring you before you were ready? Were you an angel only sent to bring two short months of comfort to my wife as she struggled to learn to live again? Oh Mi-chan. I’ll never hold you or sing to you. You’ll never melt me with your smile. Story books won’t be read and lullabies will remain silent.
It’s winter here. The sun, the green and the blossoms all lie with the false promise of a spring which won’t come this year.
