For Ishizuka, writing his autobiography proved cathartic, a way to come to grips with such massive loss. "There was so much death around me that I felt I needed to write about life," he said.
The many changes in what it means to be old have led to a surge of so-called late-life crises in Japan. Analysts say more senior citizens are making pilgrimages, often mostly by foot, to the 88 holy sites on the island of Shikoku, for example, or engaging in metaphysical experiences such as standing under bitterly cold waterfalls in search of enlightenment.
Tomohiro Ishizuka, 75, works at home in Tokyo on his "ending note," an account of his life and thoughts for family members to read after he dies.
(Anthony Faiola -- The Washington Post)
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Japan's record-low birthrate, a result of women choosing to stay single or couples deciding not to have children, has meant that many elderly people here do not have grandchildren, which in Japanese culture poses practical problems for the aged.
New generations -- almost always eldest sons, but sometimes daughters -- are expected to financially maintain hereditary tombs, mostly inside Buddhist temples. If, after the sons and daughters die, there is no grandchild to assume the responsibility, cremated remains are often removed and placed in common rooms, a fate that is now troubling many older Japanese.
One study conducted by Inoue showed a massive boom in so-called independent cemeteries, where people can make an advance payment ensuring that their bodies will be kept indefinitely in a marked burial compartment. In 1989, there were only four such cemeteries in Japan; last year there were more than 500.
"Japan is not like the United States, where the aged have a culture of self-dependency," said Sumire Nohara, who offers seminars on aging and wrote a how-to book on ending notes. "The Japanese have long depended on their children. But lifestyles are changing here, and that is no longer possible, or desired, in many cases. So the elderly, especially as they live longer and longer, are searching for new ways to leave their legacy."
Enter the ending note. The practice began, experts say, in the 1990s, part of a similar trend in the United States and Europe for people to write extended wills or leave detailed instructions regarding funerals or medical care in case they become mentally or physically incapacitated.
But in Japan, the concept took a broader form because of traditional inhibitions about sitting down and talking intimately. "There are some things that are just easier for me to write than to say," said Juniko Kuriyama, 62, who began writing her ending note last year. She is older than her husband, Junichi, who is 57, and admitted she was writing it as much for him as for her childless adult daughter. "There are so many things that he and I have never spoken about," she said -- and, she added, probably never would.
Inside the cozy uniform store that the couple runs near Yokohama, their third attempt at a business after two previous enterprises failed, her husband shook his head as his wife spoke.
"We've made it this far precisely because we don't talk so much," he said. "There are things I don't want to know. It would only make me feel worse to know that I did or did not do something and I can't make up for it anymore."
"You say that now," she replied. "But there are still things I want you to know. . . . And this is also about what I want. I feel as if I need to leave behind evidence of my life."
Special correspondent Akiko Yamamoto contributed to this report.
