Taking a month long trip to Japan was one of the most rewarding experiences I have had the change to have. The past year I had hit some hardships with friends and family and was beginning to doubt my abilities and question myself. It became hard to get up in the morning, even using 3 alarm clocks, and I began to create two faces. At school or work I was smiling and giggly; pretending that I cherished every day and enjoyed every moment. I found myself avoiding others questions even some as small as “How are you doing?”, because they brought up the repressed stress, pain and confusion I was internally battling. I became a practiced at turning the conversation around to focus on the other party and found myself diving into others’ lives to distract me and release my emotions. My academics were failing and my family was expanding the canyon between us. I could no longer see into the future like I used too. So on a whim I pushed myself to fill out the application for the Japan Global Seminar. I had a love for travel and hoped that this trip might give me some space away from everything. My acceptance sparked a small fire inside me that I had drenched with water long ago. 

 

                Once in Japan I immediately started to feel a sense of relief from the separation and tried to immerse myself into everything new. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself enjoying every part of my day and observing, questioning, reflecting, engaging in the environment around me. I was even walking up before my alarm so excited to see what the next day held for me. Japan’s culture of respecting, enjoying and recognizing beauty and the importance of nature and peace began to change my heart. I was opening up to others and myself which had not happened for a while. I also found time to slip away to the beach or local garden to reflect. Each time my heart grew calm and peaceful feeding the spark of passion into a bright fire. I knew what I wanted to do and I was ready for what I had to do. I incorporated new rituals into my life that keep teaching me to enjoy the beauty in everyday life and allow me to escape to relax and clear my mind. I found new connections and meet amazing people during this experience. I created a new family and bonded with the brother and sister I never had. I could not wait to go back and start to repair and fight for the family I had always craved and new other dreamed of as well. I understood why I was given this opportunity to go to Japan and learned so much. I was ready to go home and fight for everything that was right that I had never been confident enough or been able to embark before.  I had learned so much and wanted to help those struggling to fight around me like I was doing before. When the plane touched down, my heart was lifted.

 

                I sensed there was something off about my parents when I landed but contributed it to reverse culture shock. One the way home I babbled away about all the wonderful experiences I had had and everything I had learned. I promised them when I was older I would take them to Japan as they could experience wonderful adventures and gain a new inspiring perspective on the world. When we reached the house my mother sat me down at the kitchen table. She said in a whisper that the past month my grandmother had been in the hospital. At first I felt a surge of anger because the family had failed to motivate her to move and recover after her second remission with cancer. I had told even told her in the past that she had given up and something bad was going to happen. I did not know I would live to regret every word with every fiber of my being. Then my mother paused, sighed and went on, “Tomorrow your grandmother is being taken off of life support in the Duluth ICU. Your grandfather and the family decided a few days ago. Your grandfather wanted to wait the extra day so that you would have the chance to say goodbye after coming back. We kept it a secret from you during your travels so you could enjoy your time. I knew you would come back if we shared any information with you. We are leaving at 8am and she will be taken off at 12am.” I was so shocked I did not know what to say. I sat there for a bit. I asked a few questions and said I would like to leave earlier to see her. My parents changed the conversation over to the Japan trip as we all distracted ourselves with the pictures I had taken. Pretending that tonight was just another happy reunion after a long trip.

 

                That night I laid in the guest bedroom staring out the window. It all hit me like I have stepped of a beautiful cliff, spiraling toward the ocean littered with jagged rocks. All I could was cry and silently cream while gazing at the moon. The time past so slowly as I reminisced about eh wonderful times we had had together and all the times that were to come when I would miss her. If I had not traveled and stayed in Rochester during the break I would have crumbled into a million pieces. Never to be put back the same way. My mind was racing so much I went down the stairs and saw the box of origami paper on the counter. I remembered the story about Sadako and thought that folding cranes would be a great distraction. I started folding more cranes, one after the other, taking time to stop and cry as the waves of grief came over me. Before I knew it I had produced 50 cranes. I realized for a second staring at the simple beauty of them and drifted to sleep.

 

                The whole car ride from the cities to Duluth felt so short as I continued to fold crane after crane after crane, never stopping for a second. When I entered the hallway it hit me that this was the end, if my family was able to put aside their hate and fear to be together in the same room and connect like they has so long ago, it had to be the end. I never let of the bag of cranes, just shifting the bag between my hands. I walked down the fall to see my grandmother. I would have not recognized her if the room had not had her name on the door. The women lying there with tubes down her throat and IV’s in her arms, face so pale, hair so flat, and body so bloated was not my grandmother but a shell of her. I spent a great deal of time saying goodbye until it was time. The nurses took out the IV’s and tubes as we all gathered around her waiting until the end. My desire to fold some more cranes began to go, as I wanted an outlet for the building emotions crushing my heart.

 

                I remember watching her chest start to rise higher and higher as her breathing increased. She opened her eyes to look at everyone as we said your hellos and goodbyes. She had not been this consciousness for the past month to truly communicate with anyone until now. The time felt like molasses. The estimated 20 minutes turned into an hour, two hours and three. She was moved to hospice as many of us stayed switching off being with her and crashing in the waiting room across the hall. Many people felt the next morning once again saying their final goodbyes. I was starting to feel the jet lag and as everyone was sleeping I went into the hospice atrium sitting in a hospital chair, curled up in a blanket folding cranes under the light of the moon and street lights. I started creating a pattern as I folded. Once I completed 25 cranes I would get up and check on my grandparents then check on my family sleeping in the waiting room and occasionally talked to the nurses. All the worry of waiting for the end was numbed as I folded every crane. The fear started to diminishes and acceptance started to grow. I had a new mission with the cranes. To finish the 1,000 cranes and make a wish for her soul to be happy at rest and create a beautiful display in her memory and honor.

 

                The next day most of the time was spent reminiscing about the past and making bad jokes. We continued to talk the whole time as she fallowed us with her eyes, blinked an answer to our questions and tried to give angry looks when we embarrassed her. My grandfather was going to leave that night to gather more cloths and medication but after they spent some time alone she asked him to stay the night and leave in the morning and not to return. He did as she asked. The next day she was not as responsive as before. She could turn her head, could not open her eyes but we knew she was listening by watching her eyes move under the eyelids or her subtle furrowing of her eyebrows. She sleep more often and her breathing became so shallow and hard. He throat and lungs began to fill up with fluid creating this terrible gargling sound.

 

                We all sat on a cot in her room trying to stay as quite as possible to listen for her breathing as it became shallower and harder by the moment. Everyone say me folding cranes and slowly I began to teach each person one by one. Soon everyone in the room was folding cranes, hours past and about 200 cranes were finished. At first many were hesitant to try folding them but after completing their first the addiction set in. Each crane created a new challenge for someone to overcome and gave the satisfaction of being able to create a beautiful object with such sadness surrounding the air. Though the only sound was the hard breathing and the crumpling of paper we all were finding our hearts lifted with each crane. My mission grew as each person jumped on board ready to create something meaningful and beautiful.

 

                On the fourth day we all decided that she may want to pass without any of us in the room. She was always stubborn, protective of everyone in the family and did things her own unique way. After going out for dinner we stopped to pick up everyone a beer to share with her. After spending a great deal of effort to hide the alcohol from every staff member on the long journey through the hospital toward hospice my father gave away our secret by asking the nurse the hold “hypothetically” story. To our surprise she said it was fine and we waited for her to be moved, throat to be cleared, and medications to be given. When we entered again she took a long breath and stopped for two minutes, then took a short inhale. Our heart dropped as we rushed to give her the task of the beer on her water sponge. He clamped down on the sponge and after she was done her breathing quickened again. We all turned to share the rest of the beer when the room suddenly went quite, besides you voices. We turned and looked as I continued to glance frantically from her chest to my watch. Four minutes passed and we all new she had passed away so peacefully and calmly. We read a few of her favorite passages from the bible and said your final final goodbye.

 

                We gathered our things, thanked the staff for their help and kindness and left her in the hands of the nurses that had taken such good care of her and us. We traveled back to my grandfather’s house to finally get some sleep and be with family. I remember being so exhausted emotionally and physically but sat their laying on the recliner holding paper cranes in the dark listening to the sadness of the silence around me. For four days everyone was focused on every breath my grandmother had made and now that would never happen again. We had folded a total of 650 cranes and continued to fold them for the next few days. I did not have to focus on folding anymore, my fingers new the tricks and movements. With every fold we let out the pain, sorrow and fear of loss leaving the space for acceptance and peace to fill in slowly.

 

                 Though I was helpless to what was happening around me, I was able to complete the cranes and make something beautiful for her. Everyone was able to joke a bit when folding, accessing their inner kid. We were all working together to create all these cranes for her, something beautiful to remember her bye. When I remember her I fold a crane as a sign of respect and to think about her peacefulness of her passing and how lucky I was to be able to have more time with her. 700 cranes more time with her.