The
Last Hug
This month we lost a long-time, pioneering member of our Orange County
Buddhist Church, Manabu Okada. Manabu passed away suddenly, doing what
he loved to do, working in his garden raising vegetables and produce
for his family and friends. I received a phone call in the afternoon
from Manabu's granddaughter, saying Manabu had just passed away at the
ER of a local hospital. I rushed over to the hospital to conduct the
makuragyo or bedside service, and after the service, Manabu's wife,
Namy, was telling me what had happened. She had just been out in the
backyard with Manabu and he was fine, and the next instant when she
saw him he was clutching onto the fence and then suddenly collapsed.
She called 911 immediately, but Manabu could not be saved. Namy then
related to me that Manabu did something unusual earlier in the day.
She said she was standing in the kitchen, and out of the blue, Manabu
came up to her and gave her a big hug.
All of the Okada children were there at the makuragyo as well, and immediately
one of the sons, said, "He never does that." Manabu is a typical
Nisei man, and I cannot imagine a typical Nisei going up to his wife
and giving her a hug out of the blue. Even for myself, I have never
just walked up to my wife in the kitchen and given her a hug out of
the blue. I might give her a hug before I leave on a trip, or after
returning from a trip, but just on a typical day at home, I have never
done such a thing. Manabu's children were all shocked as well, "Dad
did what? He gave you a hug?" This was their surprise about what
Manabu had done earlier in the day.
Personally, I don't think that Manabu was consciously thinking, I might
die today, so I should give my wife a hug. However, maybe he sensed
something subconsciously, maybe it was just a feeling, that caused him
to give his wife a hug, totally out of the blue. What a hug it was,
that last hug that Manabu gave his wife of over 63 years.
Later that night, we conducted a second makuragyo service at the church
for the family members who could not be at the bedside earlier. At that
service I shared this experience earlier in the day where Namy shared
how Manabu gave her a hug earlier that day, something out of the norm
for him.
In Buddhism there is the teaching of Ichigo-Ichie, which means something
like, "Every day is the first day and the last day of our life."
Because of the teaching of impermanence, we live our life as if today
is the first day of our life, and we live it as if it might possibly
be our last. This teaching of Ichigo-Ichie can have a profound impact
on how we live.
Normally, we live our everyday life as if we will live forever. It is
very easy to take life and all that it involves for granted. Everyday
we see the same people, we do the same job, and life becomes routine.
Each day you wake up to the same wife or husband next to you. You go
about your day as usual.
But someone who lives with the teaching of Ichigo-Ichie, does not take
everyday life for granted. Each day that they wake up, they see their
spouse as if they are seeing them for the first time, fresh and new.
They go to work as if it is the first time, with a sense of excitement
and vitality. Every day is like the first day of one's life.
In the same manner, a person who lives in the spirit of Ichigo-Ichie,
lives each day as if it might be their last. If today was your last
day of work, wouldn't you want to put 100% into your work? Would you
want your co-workers to remember you as the guy who goofed off, to the
very last day of his life? If today is the last day of your life, then
that last day of work is most meaningful. Your co-workers, your boss,
your employees, are now so dear to you, because you might not see them
again.
Every night you have dinner with your spouse or family, and it is nothing
special. Sometimes your wife makes a great meal, and sometimes she doesn't.
Maybe on this particular night, the dinner didn't turn out so hot, and
you want to say something, like, you overcooked the steak, or the vegetables
aren't cooked all the way through. But stop and think for a moment.
If today is the last day of your life, this is the last dinner you will
ever have with your family. Do you want your family to remember that
last dinner as the one where dad complained about how the steak was
cooked?
Ayako Suzuki, a wonderful Shin Buddhist follower who died of cancer,
composed the following poem:
Now as I sit here talking and laughing
with my husband and children,
I realize that we have done so
for maybe thousands of times.
But when I reflect that there might not be
tomorrow,
I feel like embracing them all.
Ayako Suzuki, in living with terminal cancer, has dinner with her family
never knowing if it might be the last dinner she will have with them.
Instead of thinking, just another typical dinner with the family, like
we normally do, for Ayako Suzuki, each dinner is quite possibly the
last dinner, the last day of her life. When she thinks there might not
be tomorrow, she feels like embracing them all.
Manabu Okada must've had some kind of subconscious thought like this.
Perhaps there might not be tomorrow. If there is no tomorrow, I want
to give my wife a big hug today. I want my wife to remember my last
day with her with this hug, with this embrace.
The Buddhist way of life is this kind of life. It is to live with a
freshness, a newness, a joy of life as if today is the first day of
one's life. And, it is to live life with a deep sense of appreciation
and gratitude that today might possibly be the last day of our life.
A simple teaching like impermanence has this kind of deep implication
on our life.
Namuamidabutsu,
Rev. Marvin Harada
