記得暑假期間在紐約上州他父母家，有一次不知怎麼J讓他父親生氣了。老人一聲不響地坐在廚房裏生悶氣。厨房裏有張长桌靠著東窗和北牆，可坐人的地方是L形的两条边，他做在长边，低著頭對著窗戶，而我則坐在桌子的短邊南侧默默地陪他坐着，雖然一句話也沒說，我的破英語也說不出什麼，但我知道老人感到了我的善意，對他起到一定的安慰作用。J母親那天跟我說了謝謝，說他們父子有些小矛盾。她似乎不站在任何一方，體諒丈夫，又不願意傷了兒子的感情。過後J也對我說了謝謝。他是知道不能讓老人生氣，但又沒主動道歉。
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| 1989年夏 |
一九八九年盛夏，J的母親舉辦了一個對J父親生命慶典的聚會。不要求賓客着裝太莊嚴，聚會氣氛輕鬆從容。其他州也來了不少親朋好友。他父親葬在紐約州Elmira的Lawnwood墓地。J和他的大姐都在衆人面前講了話，表達了對父親的追思與懷念。美國作家馬克·吐溫的墓也在那裏，我和J過去憑弔。之後，大家來到一個餐館聚餐。
來美國以前對墓地的概念是荒涼陰森，偶爾看到的日本墓地也是那種感覺。而美國的墓地給人的感覺是陽光明媚、濃蔭蔽日、綠草如茵、舒展大氣、寧靜安詳。去世了的人們彷彿只是在那裏歇息，很難令人感覺淒慘、悲涼、壓抑。美國墓地邊上就住着人家，看不出有什麼忌諱，彷彿陰陽無界。
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Of the Sullen Tidings prior to Nikko, the Quiet Demise amidst Watch-Springs, and the Silent Vigil within the Kitchen of Upstate New York
In the golden autumn season of the year nineteen hundred and eighty-eight, we made all readiness to journey unto Nikko for the contemplation of the autumn foliage. Upon the very eve of our departure, there came a telephonic summons from J’s mother, conveying the intelligence that J’s father had departed this life on the third day of November. Across the wire, she imparted these tidings with an admirable reason and serene composure, counseling us that we need not return straightway to New York. By reason of the suddenness of the event, it lay not in her power to assemble, within so brief a compass of time, their kindred and companions dispersed in distant regions. The ashes having already been committed to the earth, the solemn rites of remembrance were deferred until the summer recess of the following year. One could not but marvel at a matron of fourscore years, who, with such collected reason, disposed of so weighty a matter of human mortality with perfect order.
By the vehicle of that discourse we learned that the departure of J’s father was swift and full of peace. During the hours of daylight, he had driven his helpmeet abroad to partake of a repast; in the evening, according to his custom, he occupied himself with sundry antique pocket-watches of exquisite workmanship. He possessed a complete array of implements proper to a horologist, and with a magnifying glass pressed nigh his eye, he sat bent o'er his writing desk, taking a singular delight in ordering those minute wheels and slender mainsprings. J’s mother remained within the bedchamber perusing the television, and the hour growing late without his appearance, she called unto him twice, yet received no answer; upon stepping forth, she discovered him stretched upon the floor. Such a departure from this earthly sphere is truly the falling of ripe fruit, a dissolution without infirmity.
Upon the arrival of these heavy tidings, J wept and my own heart was filled with grief, yet I knew not by what speech to offer him solace. He sat at one side, while I took my station opposite, silently and with a sorrowful heart perceiving the measure of his affliction. Presently, a certain Mistress G, a gentlewoman residing nigh the stairway who likewise held a chair of instruction at the selfsame university, repaired to our chambers upon some private business with J. Beholding his distress, she straightway threw her arm about his shoulder, patting him gently to assuage his grief. At that spectacle, I was seized with a profound regret, marveling why I remained ignorant of so simple a courtesy—that by the mere embracing and gentle patting of his frame, I might have lightened a portion of his sorrow and rendered some small comfort.
I recall during the summer recess at his parents' dwelling in Upstate New York, J upon one occasion provoked his father to anger, by what means I knew not. The elder gentleman sat within the kitchen at the longer side of a table, which was so disposed against the window and the wall that chairs stood only upon the two sides forming an L-shape; his head was bowed low before the window, whilst I took my station upon the shorter side, accompanying him in utter silence; though my meager English sufficed for no discourse, yet I knew well that he perceived my goodwill, which brought a certain solace to his spirit. J’s mother upon that day tendered her gratitude unto me, remarking that some slight contention existed between father and son. She appeared to maintain a strict neutrality, showing a tender consideration for her husband, yet loth to wound the affections of her son. Thereafter, J likewise tendered his gratitude unto me. He was conscious indeed that he ought not to have provoked the elder gentleman to anger, yet he could by no means bring himself to proffer a voluntary apology.
In the high summer of the year nineteen hundred and eighty-nine, J’s mother ordained a gathering for the celebration of his father's life. No solemnity of vestment was demanded of the company, and the atmosphere of the assembly was exceedingly light and easy. Sundry kindred and companions repaired thither from diverse other states. The remains of his father were interred within the Lawnwood Cemetery at Elmira, in the State of New York. J and his eldest sister each stood before the multitude to deliver an address, testifying to their remembrance and affection for their sire. The sepulcher of the American author, Mark Twain, lay likewise within that consecrated ground, whither J and I repaired to render our homage. Thereafter, the company adjourned to a tavern to partake of a repast.
Prior to my arrival in America, the conceit I entertained of a burial-ground was one of desolation and gloomy dread, which quality I had occasionally perceived within the cemeteries of Japan. Yet the resting-places of America present an aspect bathed in bright sunshine, overcanopied with dense shade, carpeted with abundant verdure, expansive, tranquil, and full of peace. The departed souls appear merely to repose there at their ease, nor does the place induce any sense of misery, lamentation, or oppression. Hard by the borders of these cemeteries stand the dwellings of living men, who betray no sign of superstitious aversion, as though the quick and the dead coexisted without division.
特別感謝 Gemini AI 提供充滿活力的翻譯和文本潤色。
Special thanks to Gemini AI for providing the spirited translation and text refinement.
第四百二十九篇
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