A father’s memories

“Would you have wanted me to live? Or my mother?”

What a childlike question.

The world isn’t that simple, and you’d be pressed to find someone who could make a choice right away when presented with this question.

That’s why adults don’t ask these ridiculous questions.

You could even consider it bad form. Since no matter how you answer this question, someone is going to get hurt.

A childlike question.

But maybe it’s precisely because of her childlike innocence that she’s able to cut to the meat of the matter.

At the end of the day, it’s a simple question. But I couldn’t give a straight answer.

“What a ridiculous question. Of course I want both of you to live.”

I knew this was a model answer void of any meaning.

“You and your mother are both special to me. I can’t choose.”

I probably followed up with something like that.

But I didn’t think it was the best answer.

I was just dodging the question with my superficial answer.

I knew that my wife was sickly before I’d even proposed to her.

I knew that, and still proposed to her. Because I truly wanted to be by her side, and support her for the rest of her life.

And when I found out that she was pregnant…

I was overcome with joy. But I also came to notice the existence of a cold, almost calculating emotion buried underneath.

And so I hesitated.

Can my wife really bear the heavy burden of giving birth to twins?

And I’ve made my choice once already.

A choice to kill the twins in order to spare my wife.

“You’re both special to me”? “I can’t choose”? What kind of face should I put up?

Looking into the innocent eyes of the young girl on that day.

In the end, I couldn’t go through with my decision.

My wife’s determination was stronger than my weak will.

Wouldn’t the choice to save her life doom her soul instead?

What does living truly mean?

I thought long and hard about these abstract concepts, trying to come up with a concrete answer.

I was never one for optimism, but shivering in fear of a future yet to come seemed extraordinarily foolish to me.

But I’ve made the wrong choice.

A future yet to come turned into an unchangeable past, and my once innocent daughter grew up into a girl that barely spoke, with her smiles even rarer.

As a single father raising her, there are plenty of things I didn’t do well.

But I did try my best at every step of her growth.

Giving her room temperature milk, patting her back, mimicking what I think are lullabies, gradually transitioning her diet; none of this was familiar to me, but I approached everything with love and care.

Buying her fancy cakes, cute clothing. Awkwardly washing her underwear.

“I’m not used to this”, “This isn’t for me”, “I’m just bad at this”, I didn’t give myself any excuses!

I tried. I honestly tried. But my daughter kept saying things like “I want to die”, “This is too hard for me”, or “I didn’t want to be born”.

“You have to live for your mother.” “You have to live for your older sister.” “You can’t pass away before your father.”

I responded with many things I probably shouldn’t have said.

But she’s still alive today.

I convinced myself that’s the only thing I’m living for.

Even if my words are a curse that binds her to life against her will.

I’m exhausted.

Kayano, I want to see you.

People say that organizing the belongings of the deceased can help in coming to terms with their death.

But maybe I didn’t want to admit that you’re truly gone from this world.

I haven’t touched your room at all, it’s left as is.

Kayano, I want to see you again.

No, I don’t think I can face you right now.

Even if we’re parent and child, I don’t think it’s right for a human to force the meaning of life onto another.

But if you’re living without purpose, could that truly be considered living?

As a human, that is, and not just a biological lifeform programmed for survival.

I need to confront her.

We need to talk a lot more.

I don’t know what the right answer is, and I’ve been worrying my entire life.

But because of that, I’ll be a good person to talk to.

Her life will go on, after all.

I…don’t want to die yet…