At that night I felt as if my son were still alive under the burned and collapsed building of Nagasaki Medical College. I wish he were alive under the heavy woods. Seeing my son's burnt body in my mind's eye, I was sobbing all night long. "It's no use crying." Saying so, my husband was also whimpering.
The next day, carrying a lot of water (in a bucket), I went over Mt.Konpira and down to the valley Urakami. On the way there was a graveyard above the town Sakamoto, that is to say on the top of the hill above the college. The gravestones went over and many dead bodies lied here and there. Their faces swelled and I couldn't tell who was who.
I was so shocked at the bitter, cruel sight that I lost my wish to look for my son. I wondered that I just could tell him as a human being. Not only my son but also all the others have gone. It's all over.
I collected some pieces of somebody's bones scattered there and took back home. I've put them on the household Shinto alter and respected since then. I've never found out my son's body, so I can't give him up even now.