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I tend to make people into a ‘chosen family’.
Those who have led me to growth or shown kindness are remembered infinitely, and everywhere I go, each day, things remind me of the good & the quirky.
One year I worked at hospice. It was an honor, a learning experience, and a serious existential mind warp.
The whole “stages of grief” thing with Kubler Ross is now understood as overly simplified. But I know this: that disassociation/unreality stage of grief is true.
I think it’s what allows us to function in the temporary space between hearing the news, and feeling the brunt of absence.
In L.A. 2 weeks ago, I almost missed my flight home.
Partially because
Enterprise employees are slow as molasses, but mostly because Sensei Furuya and I got sucked into one of long chats over a splendid meal in Little Tokyo. (French-Japanese fusion)
Tradition now for every time we meet.
“Oh, you have to come to
L.A. again more often” he’d lament, ‘There’s so many new restaurants to take you to…”
Our very favorite place was Ca’Brea. We also had a year when we were regulars at Aunt Kizzy’s Back Porch in Marina Del Rey. There was afternoon tea at the Ritz Carlton, a hundred
Shanghai restaurants, Indian food in
Hollywood .
Sensei met my Dad decades ago at a martial arts tournament. They impressed each other as true scholars and artists in an age where machismo and flashiness overtakes actual discipline & skill.
My first visit to the beautiful Aikido Center of L.A. dojo took place when I was a teen. He owned 2 beautiful, now departed Akitas, Michiko & Kuma. I showed up in a short red top and the ubiquitous boots. He took us to the finest sushi restaurant I had (perhaps ever have) been to.
My UCLA years began the time when I had an “L.A. Dad”. When I went to
Japan in 1997, Sensei asked me what I liked “Unagi” was my very unsophisticated response. He made sure I was escorted in
Tokyo to the finest of Unagi places.
When I moved back to
S. Cal in 2000, Sensei and his dutiful students were waiting at the apartment to move me in. This apartment was my sole experience living 100% solo, I loved the independence, the teeny pool, the garden, the location…and the connection to Sensei’s student that had secured it for me after many a hot and fruitless apartment search.
I could likely come up with a 50 page list of the amazing places we went to eat, the Thanksgivings, Birthdays, New years’… It could never convey the unique familial friendship we developed. He would fuss and nag over my Dad with me. Remind me not to become a workaholic or choose a “no-money career like martial arts.’
We would laugh at bad movies, all kinds of L.A bad taste, and especially at bad kung-fu. On his rare visits up North we went to Chez Panisse, he fell in love with
Alameda , and he came to our wedding at the Mtn. Winery.
In recent years Sensei would sometimes express some loneliness, a stab of regret that he’d never had a family of his own.
I always said, “I’m so glad you’re a part of our family.”
The
Japan branch, if you will.
Like any loving, biased family member- he cheered everything I did with beaming pride (always disproportionate to the actual accomplishments), sometimes horrifying me by publishing something I wrote or praising me to the skies in his newsletter or website.
Mostly I enjoyed knowing someone who has integrity. Who had turned away from the easy money of cheesy
Hollywood crap to pursue his arts, who was cultured yet down to earth, and still honing his skills in tea ceremony and calligraphy.
I always had a little nagging worry that one day Sensei might be all alone inside that gorgeous dojo and have an emergency. He’d cared for many members of his aging family until they had passed. I fretted whether we would be able to provide that kind of care to him.
Last night I got the call.
From Mark, whom we had that French-Japanese dinner with.
Sensei was talking, laughing even, with his students.
Keeled over. Ambulance was unable to save him.
In our living room, atop the coffee table, is the latest little gift from Little Tokyo.
He sent me off on the plane, with a beautifully wrapped box.
In my head I make the calculations.
I am pretty sure he received the photos from our last dinner together, as well as the card I sent the following Tuesday. I sure hope so.
It’s been about 26 hours since Rev. Kensho Furuya departed.
Words fall lame to convey what kind of rare soul has left us.
Reverend Kensho Furuya
Rev. Kensho Furuya is a 6th Dan in Hombu Aikido and 6th Dan Kyoshi in Muso Shinden Ryu Iaido, with over 47 years experience in martial artists. Furuya Sensei earned his degrees in Asian Studies at the University of Southern California and Harvard University. He trained at the Aikido World Headquarters in Tokyo, Japan in 1969, under the late Kisshomaru Ueshiba Doshu and established his Dojo in 1974. Furuya Sensei was ordained as a Zen priest in 1988 and received the honor to speak at the United Nations in the following year. He is the author of many articles on martial arts and has appeared on many television programs speaking on the subject. He is the author of the book Kodo: Ancient Ways, and the acclaimed video series, The Art of Aikido which is in nine volumes.
Credits: "Outstanding Cultural Organization Award" Japanese Chamber of Commerce, President of the So. Calif. Yamanashi Prefectural Organization, President of the Los Angeles Sword and Swordsmanship Society, Member of L.A. Police Dept. Civilian Martial Arts Advisory Board, Member of Soto Zen International, Past President of the Southern California Japanese Sword Society.
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