Shinichi Endo busies himself every day with woodcarving projects to help him deal with the loss of his three children who were killed in the Great East Japan Earthquake and tsunami last year.
Shinichi Endo busies himself every day with woodcarving projects to help him deal with the loss of his three children who were killed in the Great East Japan Earthquake and tsunami last year.
He knows it may take years to overcome his grief.
“The feeling of loneliness is ever growing as time passes,” said Endo, 43, who works at a craft center called Mokuyuboku in Higashi-Matsushima, Miyagi Prefecture. “The situation may be the same for me even years later.”
Parents in the Tohoku region are struggling to come to terms with the deaths of their children in last year’s disaster. Meetings are being held to allow grieving parents to share their experiences and emotions. Temples in the disaster areas are providing support, as are volunteers who travel to the areas.
But it will be a long and painful process.
Endo was driving in his car when the tsunami hit on March 11. The following day, he was finally able to return to his home in Ishinomaki, a neighboring city in the prefecture, and learned that his daughters--Hana, 13, and Kana, 8--were killed, and that his son, Kanta, 10, was missing.
He frantically searched the wreckage for Kanta, subsisting on food found in refrigerators amid the debris. Kanta’s body was later discovered by members of the Self-Defense Forces.
Endo’s current project is creating a book shelf for a school that is storing books in memory of an American teacher who died in the tsunami. The teacher taught Endo’s children.
Although his children are no longer with him, Endo says it does not change the fact that he is still a father.
“I want to do something that pleases my children,” Endo said. “I want them to know that I am working hard.”
The tsunami swept away three small chairs that Endo built for his children. The chairs were placed around a dinner table when they were small, and were later used to help them put on their satchels when they grew older.
Despite his enormous hardship, Endo remains determined to make people happier with his woodcarving works. He said he also wishes happiness for the volunteers who have provided assistance, the people in his community and survivors he met at an evacuation center.
“I feel like we are all one family,” he said.
Yumiko Suzuki, a 42-year-old mother who lost one of her three sons in the disaster, attends a monthly gathering for bereaved mothers at Saikoji temple in Ishinomaki.
“I wonder why my child is still gone although the city is being restored,” Suzuki told a recent gathering.
Her son, Hidekazu, 12, disappeared when he was fleeing from their home. Suzuki identified his body at a morgue six days later.
Shinsho Higuchi, deputy priest at the temple, says measures are needed not only to rebuild the city but also to help people cope with the deaths of family members.
The gatherings at the temple started after a Sendai-based group of bereaved parents held an assembly in Ishinomaki in July.
Suzuki took part in the event because she was desperate to discuss her sorrow with people who had gone through similar experiences.
Kyoko Aoki, 53, was one of the participants at the gathering. Her son Kenji, 31, was a police officer directing traffic near the bank of the Kitakamigawa river when he was swallowed up by the tsunami. His body was found in April.
“It was really hard (to accept his death),” Aoki said. “I have felt nothing but sorrow.”
Aoki’s home on higher ground remained intact. Several days after the disaster, her neighbors started to return to their everyday lives.
For Aoki, the activities of her neighbors made the loss of her son even more painful.
“I could not stand their smiling faces,” she said.
She even felt offended when acquaintances made remarks intended to comfort her.
But now, Aoki, Suzuki and other parents in Ishinomaki have a venue where they can share such feelings.
“It is nice to have a place where I can feel I am still Hide’s mother,” Suzuki said, using her son's nickname.