ONE YEAR LATER.
"I hated my son; I've always hated my son. Deep down, I believe he's ruined my life.
I birthed him out of wedlock when I was young, and I didn't want to abort him. Everyone else wanted me to abort; I didn't want to abort him.
My parents completely cut off contact and disowned me. The father of my son abandoned me for another woman when my son was four.
I hated my son; I've always hated my son, even before the father of my son left me for another woman. I hated my son because I could never understand him; I could never empathize with my son. After the father of my son left me for another woman: I started to avoid and hurt my son in ways that I thought he deserved for ruining my life. Despite this fact, my son never hated me back; my son was a good person. My son wanted to be a hero.
I hated my son; I've always hated my son. Because I had avoided my son, he was kidnapped; my son has most likely died.
I hated my son; I've always hated my son...I hated my son; I've always hated myself.
I'v-".
I covered my face and burst into tears; I slowly started to collapse on the floor when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"I think that's the farthest we've ever went".
"Mr. Sato!"
I called Mr. Sato's name while covering my face: Mr. Sato was the man behind me; he was my therapist. Mr. Sato was having me practice something he called a mantra of continuity. He told me the purpose of the mantra of continuity was to expose the wrongness of a moral crime to an offending party.
A mantra of continuity was meant to strip an offending party naked, causing an ego death. In this context, an ego death is someone no longer wanting to justify their moral crime to themselves or anyone else.
"This is good progress; you've made good progress in our last two sessions as well." Mr. Sato said.
I kept sobbing.
"That's right; let it all out, there is no point in hiding from the facts: In the worst case, God forbid, you've caused the death of your son. I'm so glad you've agreed to a living memorial: this is one of the final stages of accepting loss".
"..."
Mr. Sato gave me a hug; we hugged for a while.
"I will be there today".
Today was the funeral of my son, Izuku Midoriya.
FIVE HOURS LATER.
Since I couldn't bury him near his ancestors, I chose a public cemetery.
The cemetery nested on a slope of a hill on the end of a coastal prairie; The adjacent cliff held a Buddhist abbey.
The hill was also a promontory, the waves were so close they occasionally brushed the graves closest to the sea gate, we were facing the pacific ocean.
The footpath was jagged and obtuse; I fell on eight separate instances. The gates had rusted from the sea air and waves. There were seven people huddled around a grave especially near the sea gate: four of them were cemetery maintenance, as well as one official shaman here to chant; they were all from the adjacent temple.
One of them was my therapist, Mr. Sato, and the other was the father of Izuku Midoriya; I wasn't aware of his inclination to grace us with his presence today.
"They refused to hold a wake since this is only a living memorial— the temple officials, I mean," whispered Mr. Sato.
The ritual itself was rather curt as there was no body to be cremated and buried, we had lit each of our essences and paid condolences while the sutra chanting begun and around forty minutes later the service had concluded. As the temple officials prepared to leave, Mr. Sato held me back.
"Its a beautiful day today: yes, invariably solemn and yet beauty prevails— don't you agree, Mr. Midoriya?" Mr. Sato said.
"I do. Inko, can we take a walk?"
"...No thank you."
"The opportunity to stroll on a day such as this should not be passed; I see no reason not also to stroll with company— don't you agree, Mr. Midoriya?" Mr. Sato said.
"I do. Inko... can we please take a walk?"
He grabbed my arm.
"..."
Treading the footpath upwards was even harder than going down; I kept having to be caught by the father of my son. When we reached stable elevation, we walked along the coastal prairie hugging the ocean as close as we could; up ahead was farmland.
"I knew of the funera-, I'm sorry— living memorial because of Mr. Sato: He had reached out to me; I wasn't hard to find, apparently."
"..."
"I haven't used my life for much since you've seen me: I'm just a regular salaryman now— with crippling debt to pay... I know I don't deserve to be here, to mourn— but when I heard about what happened... I don't know— just something in me... cried."
"..."
"Inko... I'm sorry; I regret every second of my life after I left you and Izuku— that's the truth, I swear to you... These last six years have been miserable."
"..."
We walked in silence for a while after that. Mr. Sato was right: on a day like this the opportunity for a walk should never be ignored.
The sea was beautiful; The earth was beautiful; The sky was beautiful; The clouds were beautiful; All of them were operating in perfect harmony to realize a ubiquitous purity the most seasoned partisan of any art form could never capture.
"Inko.."
"..."
"Inko... please! At least respond to me; are you really going to hold this over my head for the rest of my life? It feels like I can't even breathe around you!"
"..."
"How dare you do this to me. Our son is most likely dead, and all you want to do is hold petty grudges! I'm clearly a better person now; shouldn't you try your best as a woman— my woman to forgive me?!"
I finally looked over to him from the ocean.
"I forgive you... I'm not your woman."
He slapped me across my face.
"We're still legally married, Inko! This is just like you: after six years you haven't changed one bit. This is why I told you to abort; you weren't ready to be a goddamn mother of all things. Don't you know men are suppose to have a wandering eye— its only natural! This is why that child ran away from you; you're suffocating! You can't forgive your man for something as simple as a mis-"
"I forgive you... I'm not your woman."
He slapped me again.
"... You're hopeless, I know I don't deserve this from you. don't ever contact me again."
He stormed off.
By then, the right side of my face had completely swollen, and I had uncontrollably teared up. Even with the now limited experience of the view, the beauty of the scenery had still prevailed.