My father passed away last August and my family had the first memorial service the day before yesterday. My mother, who is a poet, selected 66 tanka related to her husband, composed during those four last years when she had known about his disease, and compiled them into a handmade booklet. In Japan, it is customary to offer a gift to participants at the service. So the booklet was added to a box of sweets, without any special word.
I don’t write tanka or haiku that much. So I tried a little translation instead.
Just like I used to do / all those decades ago / when child-raising, / I go out to the grocery / leaving an invalid sleeping inside
He was watching a broadcast / of the high-school baseball tournament, / his hometown players darting around: / this, only four short days / before his end