Year of the Boar, Twelfth Month, Day 3.

Sasanuma escorted me to the mauseleum this morning. It was exhausting... I cannot say whether I am simply still unwell or whether the grief I feel for my son weighed me down but I felt... I feel... as if my silks are lined with lead. It is difficult to walk or remain standing for long; even sitting tires me... and... I cannot stop weeping... I thought I had finished with tears after Kenta's death but when I least expect it, it is as if a well of the rawest emotion surges from deep within me and I can do nothing to stop it... I could understand it if I shed tears at the mauseleum or the temple when I offer sutras for my boy but at those times, I feel perfectly in control as if I am playing out a script which was written before time itself began... then everything feels right... proper... as it was meant to be... how is it then, that when I pick up my chopsticks to eat or when Azusa or Tomoe do my hair or make up, all of a sudden, I find myself crying hysterically for no reason at all...?
Sasanuma holds me patiently... I feel the flex of his fingers at my waist or on my shoulder and I know he wishes for more but I ... cannot... I wish I could... part of me longs to feel his hands elsewhere... to press myself against him and surrender my soul to his but when I shift against him, ready to acquiesce, what has passed flashes across my mind and I cannot....