A saddened Sea of Japan

The rose-colored cherry blossoms had all fallen from the trees and now danced upon the fields. Japan was truly the home of the cherry blossom. Every spring, those pink blossoms bloomed across the nation, from south to north. And in the fall, what Japanese called "Cosmos" cherry blossoms opened from north to south.

1989 was the most important year of my life.

In early spring, just as the cherry trees were beginning to bud, I met the most important man in my life, Graham, and just one kiss decided everything.

At first, I really didn't know what was happening. I began looking for excuses to avoid Amataka. I'd finish work, head home and refuse to answer the phone. I'd lock myself in my apartment and do nothing but lie on the bed and think, playing over and over in my head each meeting with Graham, everything that happened, every place we had been together. I remembered every sentence, every touch. I was falling in love and my mind didn't know what to do.

Like a virus, Graham invaded my body. I could feel him flowing through my veins. Every cell in my body was Graham, this incurable disease.

I had no choice. On a night full of the fragrance of cherry blossoms, I finally faced Amataka.

Women are monsters.

Desire is the flower of a dying spirit.

Forgive me, forgive me, Amataka.

I've sullied your pure soul.

I'm nothing.

Women mean nothing.

They can't even control their own bodies.

Even their hearts run away.

What is a woman anyway.

She's

She's that peach hanging from the tree.

Curved

And seemingly sweet

Swinging in the wind

Waiting for someone to pluck her

And lick her crazily

Curve by curve

I revealed everything. I confessed my love. I told him of my torment. I couldn't control myself. I told him that I couldn't stand it anymore. I felt as if I were about to die. All I could think of was that American, that Harvard MBA, that Wall Street businessman. Only he could rescue me from the brink of destruction.

As Amataka listened, his face grew pained. His heart emptied and his youthful body shook uncontrollably. Tears spilled from his eyes and fell like rain onto his cheeks. He tried to open his mouth but he couldn't. The sadness was unbearable.

All of a sudden, he kneeled down the way Japanese women often kneel. I was frightened out of my wits. His actions flew in the face of all that was at the center of Japanese culture. Japanese men would rather die than kneel. This was the spirit of the samurai. They were steeped in it from childhood. Men were meant to control women. American and European men might propose on bended knee; Chinese men certainly didn't think that kneeling for love had anything to do with a loss of respect. Even my six-foot two-inch tall ex-husband would often kneel before me, grab me in his arms and beg me: don't be angry, let's eat, get undressed and come to bed, please don't lay another eye on another man, and so on. After a while, I grew to enjoy the image of a man kneeling before me and treating me like a precious possession.

But seeing Amataka kneeling filled me with pain.

For me, he had betrayed his people's respect and had deformed the very man he had just recently become.

Unlike my former husband, Amataka didn't look up at me as he knelt, or look into my eyes with yearning. He knelt and bowed to the ground, burying his head between his legs. I couldn't see his eyes or his expression.

He didn't reach for my hands, nor did he hold on to my body like he might hold onto a life preserver. He simply said, "Chunjie, I kneel before you, but I'm not begging you. I know that right now I'm not the one for you. But one day I'm going to ask you to marry me. Wait and see. One day!" When he finished, he turned and ran out the door.

I ran after him, calling "Amataka, Amataka…" But in an instant he had disappeared.

With his departure, Amataka disappeared completely from my life. I didn't hear from him for a long time. At times I even found myself wondering if he hadn't been a figment of my imagination. That little boy with the pure, innocent smile. Such a man couldn't possibly exist in this troubled world.

Later, I went by his room. He was gone. The room was empty.

Even later, Amataka sent me a postcard from Sapporo, Hokkaido:

"I've transferred from Tokyo University to Hokkaido University. I'm here on full scholarship and no longer need the support of my family. I'm studying hard and interning at a computer firm to get some experience so I can return to Tokyo after graduation and start my own company. Sometimes when I have time, I visit the Sea of Japan. With each wave, I hear her cry. She tumbles like the heart of a man. I'll never forget the person closest to me, nor will I forget my promise."

The postcard wasn't addressed to anyone in particular and the sender didn't sign his name or include a return address.

At that very moment, I saw a woman. I saw my own heart.

I can say now that I was in love with two men then. For the first time I realized that a person could love two people at the same time.

They were simply two different kinds of love, two very different kinds of emotions.

One was uncontrollably passionate.

The other was deep as the ocean.

The passionate love made my entire body burn for him. I wanted to be in his arms twenty-four hours a day. All I could think about was him. My desire was full like a cherry blossom in springtime.

The other love was a motherly love, warm and permanent. I didn't have to think about it. I would never forget about it. I didn't desire anything from it. It flowed like water, peaceful like an autumn cherry bud.

Years later, in autumn after Amataka had committed suicide, I left Graham and New York for Tokyo. I walked alone through the campus of Tokyo University, across the grass, past the library and my old dormitory. I walked from the Ochanomizu station to Sanchōme, crying all the way; then I turned back and retraced my footsteps, ending up at a bar in Ochanomizu we had often visited, and drank myself into oblivion.

As soon as the tears had dried, new ones fell to take their place.

This shouldn't have happened to Amataka. Had I known that he would take this path, I would have abandoned true love and left Graham. Life is more important than anything else. Those two years with Amataka were the worst years of my young life. I was lost in a foreign land and this beautiful young boy walked out of a fairy tale and filled my life with warmth. He was my ocean and my sky. He was Japan's gift to me. He was a gift from God.

I traced his footsteps all the way to Hokkaido. I walked the Hokkaido University campus, not knowing a soul, searching the faces, imagining that suddenly he'd run to me from amongst the crowd, calling my name. We'd hug each other passionately. People came and people went. Some politely greeted me. I smiled, then began to cry. I walked faster. I had to leave.

I visited the Sea of Japan and sat on the beach from dusk until late at night. I stared out at the vast ocean as she tumbled and cried out. Oh sad ocean, you once met a boy. Did you hear the beat of his heart? Did you comfort him? I'm sure you cried with him. He was, after all, a son of the sea, of the sky, and of the earth.

I asked the vast open sky. I asked the ocean. But both were silent; then both cried out loudly. Amataka, where are you? Tell me, my dear child, tell me, where are you? I don't care how far away you are. I want to find you.

I've found you. I've truly found you.

How could I have ended up here? Who led me here? It was you, Amataka; it must have been you, my love.

I left Hokkaido and returned to Tokyo, and unknown to god or ghost, I boarded the train at Ikebukuro bound for Mori Park. I simply wanted to re-visit each place we had once traveled to together. I wanted to bring back the past; I wanted to bring back our youth. I walked without any particular goal in mind. I ambled along the rolling hills and looked out toward those fields of tiny flowers. Weren't those "forget-me-nots"? Amataka, do you remember when we had just met, we decided to go to the park? You picked a tiny, blue flower and gave it to me: "Chunjie, do you know what this flower is called?" you asked.

I smiled, "Of course I know. It's called a 'forget-me-not'. Then I asked you, "And do you know where that name came from?"

You thought it over, then shook your head.

So I took your hand and told you the story.

Once long ago, during the Middle Ages in Europe, there was a handsome knight who was in love with a beautiful young lady. One day, they were riding together upon a horse through the hills. Suddenly, the young lady saw a tiny, nameless flower growing atop a cliff. She was instantly enamored and said with great excitement: "My love, look at that beautiful flower!" The knight looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a flower so spectacular that it looked like a little blue spirit. He wished only to make the lady happy, so he dismounted and climbed up the cliff. In a stroke of bad luck he lost his footing and fell to a watery death. As he tumbled, he clutched the flower in his right hand. Just before he hit the ocean below, he cried, "Forget me not!"

And that's how it got its name. From that point onward, those little blue flowers came to represent true love, as well as the bond that only young lovers can share.

You listened, not uttering a word, then a bit later you said: "If that young lady were you, I would be your knight. Do you believe me?"

"Silly boy. It's just a story. There's no proof that it ever happened," I giggled.

The past is just a distant memory…

I walked around a patch of trees, bent down, picked a forget-me-not, and held it in my hand. I walked toward the cemetery we had once visited. The sound of a bell in the distance traveled over the oak trees and across the grassland. I could no longer ignore my grief. Suddenly a feeling came over me. I began to run in the direction of the cemetery…

I stood there in shock, unable to speak. You really are here waiting for me! Your spirit awaits me. This was your final promise, your very last wish. I knew that your body would be buried at the base of Mount Fuji. Amataka, my little Amataka. The sobs rose in my throat.

I could hear the words of Kant in my ear:

He who lives on in the memory of a loved one,

Will never die.

He has simply left for another land.

The dead

Are those who have been forgotten.

I stood before your grave in silence and slipped quietly into another world.

On your tombstone was written: the burial place of Chishima Amataka (October 21, 1970 - January 1, 1999)

Underneath that line in tiny characters was the following: Farewell. I've gone to travel in another world.

Amataka, did you write those words for me? You knew I would come. You never mentioned this place in your final letter, but you knew that one day I would discover the secret hidden here. Even as you were leaving this world, you were still pondering our story. And so you asked your family to erect this monument. Your life was like that of a shooting star - brilliant but all too short. This headstone memorializes the loyalty of your undying love.

That year we hid near in this park, held each other tightly and kissed. When night fell, we lay upon the grass and made love, but not…

Love and death - they never change.

Who can really explain them?

Perhaps there's no reason to explain them. Love goes on, death is forever.

I placed a blue forget-me-not on your grave and quietly chanted your name. Amataka, trust in me. Rest well. I'll be back to see you again.

Tomorrow I'll return to New York. Yes, I'm living with Graham now. He's asked me to marry him and I've agreed. I just need a little time. I think we'll wait for the new century to arrive first.

Every woman has a secret, a secret that she won't even share with those who love her most. That time when Graham showed up at the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo - at our wedding and stopped the ceremony, he said that he had finally divorced Sophie. He could marry me. He proposed to me at that very moment. His love for me sent me spinning and so I ran off with him. But I haven't yet put on another wedding gown. I told myself I needed three years. I love Graham, but I felt a deep sense of regret, guilt and an undying affection for you. If I didn't allow myself some time, I wouldn't be able to deal with those feelings. Amataka, please don't hate Graham. Don't blame him for stealing your bride. It wasn't his fault. It just happened. Look at us - we broke up and came back together three times. It was only when we had reached that final step that we lost the fight. Life, life is full of so many unexplainable things. You'll never know. You'll never experience all that life has to give. You left this world too early.

I didn't leave until the sun was setting behind the trees. Amataka, I can't bear to watch that lonely moon rise above your grave. The bitter cold, the eerie wind, I just couldn't take it.

Amataka, from now on, your spirit can fly freely, float lightly upon that sad, sad Sea of Japan, and ride those eternally blue skies.