The Aunt we visited in the hospital passed away. Baba returned home early from work to deliver the news. Jiji soon followed and a long series of phone calls pursued, all spoken in a loud formal voice. Baba sat next to him flipping through her address book, finding number after number to add to the line up. Between calls, hushed exchanges between Baba and Jiji, and then the occasional update of events floated in my direction. After the calls were finished Jiji put a drop of black ink directly on the kitchen table and with a long thin brush filled out the backs of two white envelopes, one tied with black and white ribbon, the other with silver. Jiji looked at me, gestured toward the silver one and in english he said, 'big money inside'. They quickly dressed all in black, explained that Uta and I were on our own for dinner, and then were out the door.

Around ten that night I received a rather cryptic call from Baba. They were about ten minutes from home, and could I please do something with the salt or the sugar? Something about the milk box outside? Baffling. (You see, the problem with my Japanese is that I understand maybe every fourth or fifth word, which is pretty good, but still completely useless.) Ten minutes later the doorbell rang. Uta ran to answer it. Baba and Jiji stretched their heads to the doorway, being extremely careful not to step in front of it, and asked Uta to bring them the salt. In Uta's words, they dumped some on the ground and then they walked through it.

The next day, Baba went early to have her hair done. They again put on formal black clothing, Baba in a long black dress and pearls, Jiji in a black summer suit, and then got set to go. When I asked what time they would return Baba said she had no idea. After the body was cremated everyone would pick through the ashes for all the remaining bits of bone. There's no telling how long that might take she said. At least, that's what I think she said.