A Mountaintop Memorial

June 13th, 2011, was another ordinary day of teaching junior high school in Japan… until the phone rang. I heard my father’s grief stricken voice on the other end of the line, telling me that my grandfather had gone home to be with the Lord. A few days and a plane flight later, I was sitting in the pews of Saint John’s Catholic Church with my family, mourning the loss of our dearly beloved patriarch.



My grandfather was an incredible man and lived a very full life. Part of his legacy paved the way for my current location. I was not the first of my family here, in Japan. My grandfather served in Yokohama in the army during the occupation after World War II. During the 14 months my grandfather spent in Yokohama, him and his friends would often throw case of cold beer into the back of a jeep, and drive up the side of Mount Fuji-yama, as my grandfather called it. Not many people can say that their grandfather has driven up Mount Fuji in a jeep and had a cold one on top. My cousin Sarah and I always said that if she ever came to Japan, we would carry on the family tradition, climb Mt. Fuji-yama, and have a beer at the summit.



In late May, Sarah decided to come to Japan for summer break. We told my grandfather our plan to relive his experience of Mount Fuji-yama. Little did we know that we would be climbing in his memory on July 14th Japan time, exactly one month from the day he went home to be with Jesus. Little did we know when we began planning the trip that he wouldn’t be here to see the pictures and hear the stories upon our return. Rather, he looked down and watched the entirety of our journey to the summit of Mount Fuji-yama, beers in our backpacks, instead of the back of a jeep.



I’m sure Mount Fuji-yama has changed since my grandfather’s visits it in 1947. Far from the desolate ruggedness that typifies American wilderness, Mount Fuji-yama is literally a city on a hill. Mountain lodges dot the trail about every twenty minutes all the way to the summit. Hot coffee? Hot tea? Cup-a-noodles? They’ve got it! It will only cost you about ten dollars a cup. The summit is home to a bonafide village complete with souvenir shops, restaurants, a post office, vending machines, and full-bar cell phone coverage. Mount Fuji is almost always climbed at night, in order to greet the rising sun from Japan’s highest peak. The sun set as we began climbing, and Mount Fuji-yama shed a crisp shadow across the sunset. Because of the height of Mount Fuji, and the fact that it is a volcano, the clouds wrap themselves around its base. For the first time in my life, I looked down to watch lightening flashing in a sea of clouds below me. The moon rose behind the mountain, snatching Mount Fuji’s shadow from the sky and sending it sprawling across the valley below. We paused to look down the mountain as we ascended, mesmerized by the train of headlights that danced along the trail like fireflies.



We made it to the peak just as the first gleam of morning kissed the horizon. The sun rose red, in unison with the raising of the red sun on the Japanese flag. We greeted the sun, serenaded by the singing of the Japanese national anthem、beer and picture of my grandfather in hand. I couldn’t help but smile at the beauty stretched out before me, and I know my grandfather was doing the same.