It is difficult for me to write about him. We have never been that close, though we never argued or had a fight. I can’t easily describe the relationship we had. He wasn’t really what I would call ‘family’. We weren’t friends nor flatmates. He was my mother’s partner after she divorced my dad.

They called him Chord. My mom brought him into our lives when I was 13. For a teenage girl, it was awkward to accept a stranger as a new member of my family. I tried to be cool with that because I have had enough dramas with my parents’ divorce. I really wanted Chord and my mom to be happy.

Chord was a cool guy. He was different from the people I knew. He has spent his early life in the United States, and spoke fluent English. He would read Frederick Forsyth paperbacks, he would drink whiskey from a flask, he would smoke a pipe! I have never met anyone who smokes a pipe, like a character in a novel! 

He was into music. He wrote songs and sang in a band. He liked blues music. Sometimes he would play his guitar after dinner. I tried to get him teach me how to play, but I only learned a few chords.

But thanks to him, I became familiar with the rock music from the 60s and 70s. He generously lent me his collection of CDs: Eagles, Steppenwolf, Led Zeppelin, Cream, Chicago, and of course, the Beatles. 

His relationship with my mother was also “rocky”. He was not an easygoing person, but neither was my mother (sorry, mom). They both have had problems with their parents and siblings. Maybe that was what brought them together in the first place. After I graduated from high school, I left home to Tokyo, and Chord and I saw less and less each other over time. 

He passed away when I was in my thirties. We had a small funeral. I don’t remember what music we have played at his wake, but I made sure that his guitar pick, a few books, and his pipe were in his coffin.