Canon's Diary

Wednesday, May 14th.
Around 3 a.m. last night, I realized I’d fallen asleep in the recliner and moved to my bed. This morning, I felt a bit sluggish. I had forgotten to take my nightly medication, so I quickly swallowed it with a full glass of water. The coldness going down my throat helped wake me up just a little.

The temperature was high from early in the morning, and the sky was clear and bright. From downstairs, I heard the sound of footsteps crunching over the gravel in the garden. My mother had opened the living room window and stepped outside, probably to check on the medaka fish tank. She and my father used to take care of the medaka together when he was alive. It was my father who started keeping them, but over time, my mother became quite used to caring for them as well.

After brushing my teeth, I had my usual two slices of toast and began handling the paperwork following my father’s passing. We needed to change the names on the water and electricity accounts. We also discussed within the family whose name should go on the house deed. There were many things we didn’t fully understand, and we wanted to make the transition in a way that everyone could agree upon, so I decided to consult a judicial scrivener who was my classmate in high school. We’re scheduled to meet tomorrow night.

I had been worried about my mother, but for now, she seems to be managing to hold herself together. As she folded my father’s clothes, one by one, I saw both strength and loneliness in the curve of her back.

I canceled the contract for the smartwatch my father used. The home phone and internet require a copy of the family register to confirm his death before we can change the account holder, so that will have to wait until next week. As for switching my mother’s employee pension to a survivor’s pension, we’ve scheduled an appointment at the Machida Station Pension Consultation Center on June 27th.

The funeral expenses needed to be paid in cash, so I withdrew money from the bank. Tomorrow, one of my father’s acquaintances wishes to pay their respects, so I plan to take my mother to the funeral home where my father is resting.

There was a notice in the city bulletin about the “12th Special Consolation Payment for the Bereaved Families of the War Dead,” and I will need to handle the paperwork for that as well.

I had a little free time, so I checked my work emails. There was nothing particularly urgent. The new project I’m supposed to handle is being temporarily managed by my supervisor. I couldn’t grasp the details just from the email, but I’ll make sure to get a proper handover once I return to work.

The day passed quickly. As evening approached, my west-facing room became filled with harsh sunlight, so I closed the curtains halfway, and the room grew dim. The outside air had cooled enough that I could probably turn off the air conditioner.

When I turned around, I saw the guitar on the stand my father had passed on to me.
It felt, somehow, as if he were still watching over me.