Kodokushi His greatest fear was dying alone. . As had his father. His father, a funeral director, died alone, lonely and all but forgotten. Estranged from his children, his former wife, no one thought to check in their small, close-knit town when the funeral director needed his own services. It bothered him that not even he had bothered, but it only bothered him, by his own admission, because it was undignified. He knew, as his father's son, what transpired in a body when death left the shell to decompose or, as he would say, to rot. But then, he'd add 'in hell,' for he was sure that was his father's final destination. In Japan, they have a term for dying alone, untended. For whatever reason, extended family out of reach. Not only alone, but lonely, solitary, singular. An empty death when the sum of a life is negated because there was no someone to even notice the passing. Kodokushi. His greatest fear was dying alone. Yet he chose alone. Destiny perhaps? For he had pushed all who once loved him to flee across the country. Karma repaid pain and punishment, degradation and disillusionment. Fear came to him. Death took him-- but left the shell alone in his metal coffin. Hell was that trailer in North Carolina during a mid-August heatwave. Another life negated when no one noticed, or cared that he hadn't been around to argue or accuse in over a week. They said it was quick, no evidence of stress or strain. Like falling asleep-- perhaps he thought it all a dream. It wasn't pretty. Not even his father could have made this death presentable. His greatest fear was dying alone. Standing six-foot-three, he was a small, little man of the opinion he was always right and the rest of us -- well, we were stupid, incompetent and ungrateful. We lived because we got away. He, who no longer had friends or family, met fear head-on. He did, indeed, die alone. It is a death I would wish on no one. Not even him. |