He died while being in love with me so should I keep on loving him till I die?
It has been raining since the night turned to dawn. The smell of wet mud and rain in the air smoothening out all that was hot a day ago. He called me today to let me know that he is going away, moving on with his love and life. I was choked up on words but I knew it was due soon. Without thinking much about it, I put on my black trousers and a T-shirt in a different shade of black and left my house. I was clearly mourning something and not someone. I no longer loved him and the same stood true on his side. But I missed the safety that he brought with him. When he entered a crowded room, I knew his eyes looked for me before anyone else. That couldn’t be just love though.
The morning air was cool on my cheeks and the rain simmered down to a trickle on my exposed skin. My footsteps squelched away as I became more aware of my presence. It wasn’t love. Love is a very small word that is given way too many meanings. I hate that. A person is not aware of reality if they point at love for all the good things someone close to them does for them. And I am old enough to be called wise and know that love doesn’t hold people together. It never has.
I somehow feel more alone now realizing that I have nobody else except him. I’m not lovesick or heartbroken. Just the truth. His leaving made me realize how many roles he had to fill in; partner when I needed love, a friend when I needed someone to lend me their ear, and my reason to get out of bed when my worries would pin me down. I don’t have any friends that text me on their commute to work or call me while making dinner. That used to be him. He was my friend and I’ll miss that so much more than the love he had to offer.
He died while being in love with me so should I keep loving him till I die? It feels like there is a piece of him within me that shrivels at the thought of moving on. But I know it’s not him. He would’ve wanted things to be different for me. He is stuck in time or at least his being is. The body withered away and his soul left for a piece of estate in whatever lies after. But what about me? Seems like my heart stopped with his. I no longer love the mango sun coming through the clouds when it would only come out for me before. I can’t stand the crowds that take up the space everywhere: some are laughing, others holding hands and a few just moving on with their lives, living from day to day. I want a piece of that.
Something crawls within me as if trying to hurt me. Scratching its nails against my insides and telling me there’s hurt within me. Everything reminds me of how happy we were before despite knowing that we weren’t. We fought for days only to make up as a way of respite from all the vile things we said to each other. So, why now do I only remember the good parts? Why do they weigh so heavily on my shoulders while I try to move through life? All those memories feel like a burden. My mind has a way of making things about him now. His memories have become like the price sticker that I would try to pry away from new things only to have jagged pieces of it left behind which will continue to remind me of what was there and how I felt about it.
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!!!No major spoilers!!!
I heard about Banana Yoshimoto through BTS’s Suga’s recommendation of the book “Kitchen.” After reading some intense and dark thriller mysteries I wanted to pick up a light read. With little knowledge of what to expect, I decided to pick up “Kitchen.”
My first thought after reading through the first few pages was that the writing is pretty simple and bite-sized.
Boy, was I wrong! The writing was simple but with multitude of intricacies hidden between punctuations and casual conversations between the characters. This book was translated from Japanese by Megan Backus and she did such an amazing job in keeping the integrity, authenticity and toasty feeling of Japanese authors.
I don’t think it’s just me; Japanese authors really make you feel some type of way. Every time I read a Japanese author, I just want to escape with nothing but a backpack to a quaint Japanese forest town and become a librarian there (Kafka on the Shore influenced).
“Kitchen” made me realize the power that simple writing holds and how much can be said with just a handful of words.
“No matter what, I want to continue living with the awareness that I will die. Without that, I am not alive.”
The book has a companion story called “Moonlight Shadow,” which also talks about grief and loss but from the perspective of a young girl who has lost her lover whereas the first part of “Kitchen” talks about loss and grief in regard to the protagonist’s journey of losing first her own blood and then the one who took her in as their own.
The book is titled “Kitchen” because Mikage aligns a sense of relief and respite with the kitchen of a house. I think it is a metaphor for a thing or being that brings us comfort at the time of loss and during healing.
One aspect that truly captivated me was Banana Yoshimoto’s decision not to force a romantic angle between Mikage and Yuichi. Instead, their connection was portrayed as something special and pure — a deep understanding and companionship.
Food played a significant role in their relationship, symbolizing emotional nourishment rather than mere sustenance. Whether it was preparing a full-course meal or making a late-night journey to deliver katsudon, Mikage used food as a way to express her love and support for Yuichi, reassuring him that there was still hope and affection to be found.
Yoshimoto’s ability to capture the myriad emotions one experiences during the grieving process with such precision and minimalist writing is truly remarkable. It raises the question of how intimately she may have known the depths of death and loss in order to depict these emotions so aptly.
She has carved a unique place for herself as a writer, transcending conventional genres. Her work delves into the profound human experience, offering introspection and a deep understanding of the complexities of love, loss, and healing. Yoshimoto’s writing style is undoubtedly in a genre of its own.
Unofficial playlist for “Kitchen” on spotify made by me!
Note: The piece above, before the review, was inspired by the book “Kitchen.”