When my husband’s Japanese grandmother died, she was brought back from the hospital and laid out in a futon with the head facing north in the best part of the living room in front of the family altar.
We were living in Honshu at the time, so we had to fly back at very short notice. She died at about midnight and was home by 8am. We arrived at about mid afternoon.
She was laid out in the futon, in one of her own simple cotton kimono, with a silk cloth over her face. We went up and knelt by her, took the cloth off and paid our respects. We had arrived in jeans and t-shirts but being the wife of the eldest son I was sent upstairs to change into a black kimono.
All that afternoon and evening, relatives were arriving from all over Japan, and that night the Buddhist priest came to chant in front of the altar.
As the night wore on it went from being sad and formal to being a bit of a drunken party. My husband and I had just got married three months before, so our wedding photos were taken out, and Granny was admired, and tales were told and laughed over. The kids got bored and started running around the house, jumping over her legs.
At about midnight I got fed up with being in the kimono and went upstairs to change. Just as I was completely naked between kimono and pyjamas, there was a MASSIVE earthquake! I jumped into clothes as fast as possible and ran downstairs. All the young people had rushed outside, as had my husband’s dad, as he wanted to check the foundations of the house. The old ladies all sat there, cackling about it being an omen, and MIL had rushed over to the body and was attempting to hold it still as it rocked. It felt like I was in some sort of B horror movie…
The next morning the family washed the body and dressed her in the white death kimono, and the funeral company came to take her to the crematorium.
The whole funeral takes place over three days, from immediately after death, and then there are ceremonies at one day, seven days, 49 days, a year, three years, seven years… It goes on and on!