By and by, a year went by since Shun had died.
On the following Sunday, Shun revisited his old home for the first time in a long time. His mom wasn’t in the house, however. He was wondering whether she had gone out shopping when the phone rang. Shun’s dad came to answer it. “I see,” he said, “I’ll be right over.”
Shun’s dad’s voice was an empty husk. He dashed out of the house and Shun followed, with an ominous feeling.
… They arrived at the hospital. Shun’s dad wore a grim look. Mom’s been hospitalized?Shun entered her room and gasped with surprise. Can this really be my mom?
Lying on the hospital bed was a wrung-out and sickly-pale Mom. She almost looked like a stranger. Shun’s dad, too, looked utterly exhausted.
No way! How can Mom have ended up like this?
Shun himself was too gutted to make a sound. When we all lived together, Mom used to be so cheerful, so bright. This was appalling.
The doctor concluded his examination and spoke. “Based on her current condition,” he said, “I’m afraid there’s no guarantee that she’ll pull through.”
Before the doctor had even finished, Shun rushed up to his mom and shouted, “Mom, you mustn’t die yet! Don’t die! Please, please, please! Just … don’t!” But his voice couldn’t reach where she was. No, this is too much to take. Even if we met in Heaven, this woman here isn’t the same Mom I used to love.
Even though Shun’s mom couldn’t hear his voice, in her delirium she called out his name. “I want to see Shun … Shun … Shun …”
Shun couldn’t bear the pain anymore. It was strangling him, almost. I thought we could both cope with being separated so long as our hearts stayed connected, but you’ve lost your spirit and your will to live, haven’t you, Mom?His heart was being torn down the middle. It’s me who caused this grief, so it’s me who has to help her now. If I don’t do what I can, she’s going to die of a broken heart.
Shun made up his mind.
The future is a thing we build.
He summoned up every ounce of courage, but spoke calmly: “Please, God, I want you to return me to my mother.”
In the air, many-colored orbs appeared, and inside each one was a tiny gold sphere. Then, before Shun’s eyes, one by one, the orbs popped …
Chiming …
Chiming …
Chiming …
Shun thought he recognized the bell-like sound, from a long, long time ago.
In her hospital room, Shun’s mother woke up from her sleep.
Shun’s father was anxious: “How are you feeling?”
But she didn’t make any reply.
“Look, if you’re feeling bad, I’ll fetch the doctor.”
But just as he was about to hurry off, Shun’s mother opened her mouth to speak: “Shun came to see me … in my dream.”
Shun’s father held her hand. “That’s nice, love.”
She went on, with tears in her eyes, “Shun told me, ‘I’m right here, always, so you’re not to cry anymore, okay?’ He looked terribly unhappy, because of, because of the state I’m in. I need to pick myself up, and, and … put all the pieces back together again.”
Shun’s father nodded. “Yes. Shun isalways watching over us. Let’s … somehow … begin again. Make a fresh start.”
At the window, the first snow of the year was falling lightly. The snow crystals had formed from Shun’s tears, and were God’s proof that a boy called Shun had once lived in this world.
“Look,” said Shun’s mother. “It’s snowing. It’s beautiful.”
“First snow,” said Shun’s father. “He always did love the snow, didn’t he?”
Five years came and went. As had been promised, in the year after Shun’s decision, a new baby had arrived in Shun’s family. She was a girl, and was named “Nozomi” to signify “Hope.” Nozomi was due to start kindergarten that spring.
“Hang on, Nozomi!” her mom called out. “Wait for me!”
“I’ll run ahead a bit, Mommy,” Nozomi called back as she ran. Mommy walks so slowly. As soon as I get to the supermarket, first thing I’ll do is to buy some chocolate. She ran on without looking where she was going, and bumped into someone. “Oh! I’m very sorry,” said Nozomi.
“Are you okay?” asked a man in a red hat. “Hey, you’re the one who …”
“Do you know me?” asked Nozomi, curiously. “Who are you?”
The man hunkered down on his heels: “Are you back here already? This here old man’s an angel, believe it or not.”
Nozomi thought this was a bit suspect, because angels are supposed to have wings and live in Heaven. “Oh no you’re not.” She stared back at the old man with her big round eyes.
A cheerful laugh escaped him. “Anyway, are you having a content enough life?”
What does “a content life” mean anyway?Nozomi had to think about this. Mommy and Daddy quite often say, “We’re having a pretty content life.” So yes, I must be having a content life too. Nozomi beamed at the old man. “Of course I am.”
Finally, Nozomi’s mom caught up with her daughter, out of breath. “What are you up to now?”
“Talking to him.” Nozomi turned back, but there was nobody there. “Oh. Where did he go?” Nozomi looked around. “There was this funny old man … he said he was an angel.”
“I’ve told you not to talk to strangers,” Nozomi’s mom said, a little sharply.
So that old man was a stranger?Nozomi’s heart went taut with a sort of joy. What’s this I’m feeling now?
“Anyway,” said her mother. “Let’s get on with the shopping, shall we?”
Oh yes, the chocolate. “Mommy, can you buy some chocolate? One bar for me and one for my brother, so that’ll be two bars, please.”
“All right, all right. But you’re going to scoff them both down, I bet.”
“That’s because he says I can have his.”
“Lucky you to have such a nice brother.”
On their way back from the supermarket, Nozomi’s mom was thinking about Shun. One day, in the future, I’ll see Shun again. Until that day, I’ll manage. I’ll manage just fine.
Nozomi started running off again. “Mommy! Let’s go and see the cherry trees that my brother used to love.” The things my brother used to like are the same things that I like. Gazing at the cherry blossoms, Nozomi wondered what sort of a person Shun was.
Afterword
What am I going to be, if my autism can never be cured?When I was little, this question was always a big, big worry. I used to be afraid that as long as I had autism, I’d never be able to live properly as a human being. There were so many things I couldn’t do like other people, and having to apologize day in, day out totally drained me of hope.