Photo/Illutration Cherry blossom trees line the Kamogawa river in Kyoto’s Kita Ward on March 27. (Kenta Sujino)

KYOTO--Harumi Kubota remembers how she used to look at cherry blossom trees lined along the Kamogawa river in her hometown here.

In her memory, though, she was always alone rather than with her family.

About five years ago, Kubota regularly visited her elderly parents to help them with their housework.

Kubota’s mother, who had dementia, often fell and injured her face and legs. Kubota tried to advise her mother to be more careful, only to become frustrated due to the illness making it difficult to communicate with her.

She was even more disappointed with her difficult father, who wouldn’t help or even listen to her.

In fact, she had never had a truly open and intimate conversation with her parents.

Being an old-fashioned, authoritarian parent, her father never praised her for anything, even when her science and art projects won her awards when she was an elementary school student.

She wasn’t happy with her timid, obedient mother, either. She always argued with or kept a distance from her.

Her awkward relationship with her parents remained unchanged even as they got older.

On her way home from her parents’ house, she often found herself standing on the bank of the Kamogawa river looking at the cherry blossom trees.

She could see the fresh green leaves getting darker as summer approached. The leaves would turn red and yellow soon after summer left with the deafening sound of cicadas.

The trees lose their leaves in winter and stay barren until spring, when the cherry blossoms bud, bloom and fall.

Standing on the riverbank just as she did as a child, she let her thoughts wander, thinking about her elderly parents and herself, who had grown older, too.

Watching the cherry blossom trees change their appearance along with the seasons somehow helped her stay calm.

Then, the day came when the elderly couple could no longer live on their own.

After consulting with health care and other care workers, Kubota decided to send her parents to a nursing home.

One day, late at night, she sat alone in the kitchen and wrote her parents’ names on more than 100 items, such as towels and underwear, for them to use in their new home.

That was when she remembered how her father used to put her names on her items in his neat handwriting when she was a child.

She came to realize how he really loved and supported her.

Not being aware of how he cared for her, all she did in return was to become a sulky and rebellious daughter.

She felt ashamed and desperately wanted to apologize to him.

Kubota thought she should take her parents to the riverbank and spend time together under her favorite cherry blossom trees while she could.

It never happened, however, because of the COVID-19 pandemic.

She could visit her parents at the care home only once before they both passed away in the spring of 2022.

The deaths of her parents came so suddenly and unexpectedly that she had no time to thank or apologize to them or show them the cherry blossoms.

One year on, she is still left with a lingering sense of regret.

Spring has come again.

Standing at the riverbank, Kubota, now 61, said to herself and to the blooming cherry trees: “My parents cared for me all these years, and now it’s my turn to care for my daughter and grandchildren.”

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This article is part of a series of stories about memories of cherry blossoms solicited from readers.

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