Each time I would go to Asia one special family connection would die.
In 1967, I went to Japan on my first Fulbright to study in the Grand Kabuki. Poppy passed away in the winter at the exact same moment as I was stranded in a stalled ski lift over the village of Ishiuchi. The lights of the village flickered below and the snow fell softly as we hung in the air.
When I returned to Tokyo a telegram was waiting at the
US embassy to inform me.
In 1979, I was in Japan on a Japan Foundation Professional fellowship. Mimi passed and no one informed me at the time.
Three weeks later I opened a letter from Ruth while in a taxi enroute to my Japanese dance lesson. Mother Ruth informed me with a news clipping and said that all were surprised that I had not responded to the call from my brother. I never received this call.
Mimi and I have the same birth date and were thick in our fun and joy of living.
In 1983, in the middle of a November night my brother called me in Seoul, Korea to inform me of our Mother Ruth having passed. I was near the end of a year long Fulbright and performing at the National Theatre. Ruth had requested to be cremated. When I returned to Texas, I picked up the urn with the ashes from the funeral home and arranged a memorial service when most relatives could attend in January. My brother arrived late and a bit drunken after the service had started and sat at the other end of the pew.
Rea sat next to me and Barbara did not attend.
The next day there was a battle with my brother at the lawyers and I agreed to buy him out.
It took me six months to raise the money. That is another long strange story, but Rea attended all the meetings and hosted the two of us for a meal at the San Juan Hotel where she told Charles that he only had one brother and to recognize the fact of blood.
In 1995, I was going to Korea for the summer and had planned a stop in Texas before my departure. My plane was late and misconnected so that when I arrived in the early morning – 6am – I had to rent a car and I drove direct to hopefully greet Rea at Breakfast. I was greeted with her death and holding my last letter in her hands. At the funeral parlor twenty-four hours later when I was given a private visitation a pink carnation had been placed in her hands.
As I sat talking with her remains, the right hand moved toward me and the pink carnation fell.
I replaced it with a yellow rose that I pulled from a bouquet.
For the funeral, I insisted on paying for the flowers that were placed as a blanket over the closed coffin. I ordered every spring flower that I could recall she had grown. Barbara and family at first did not ask me to sit; finally I was seated alone in the middle of the front row with all behind me. Brent came for the funeral and at The People’s Church dinner after the funeral we endured the smirks of Barbara’s youngest son in reference to our friendship. I excused us, and we drove to Padre Island and the fond memories of many summers.
I had a fear to return or make a trip to the orient, yet in 2006 I went to Thailand. While I was there a personal friend passed.
I have a fear of the orient.
Entry – August 5, 2007
