Sachi, Maja and my Dad

On July 2nd, 2024, I lost my father. He was my cheerleader, my buddy, my hero. I can’t quite put into words yet how much I miss him, and how different life feels without him. He was so proud of me and everything I did - whether it was theatre, music, crafts, pottery, and in the last few years he witnessed the blossoming of my business, my life’s work. I am so, so glad he got to see this. I understand that the tremendous pain I feel is directly related to how deep our connection was, and how much we love each other.

The other day I thought, my Daddy became an ancestor. I have a deep commitment to respecting and honouring the people who have come before me, and so I thought it would be an apt moment to speak to the origin story of the business name.

Sachi and Maja were my grandmothers. Sachi was born in Japan in 1924, and Maja was born in Portland, OR a few years before that. Both women were incredibly strong, daring and spiritual. Though they didn’t grow up in the same place with the same religion, I know they shared many similar values: Family, community, and faith among others.

Each woman raised two children: Sachi raised two boys and Maja two girls. Thousands of miles apart, in the post-WWII era and all the fallout that came with that time, they were both doing what they could to not only survive, but to thrive in their own way. Sachi was a hairdresser and owned her own business. She was also a licensed kimono teacher (there is a very specific way to put on a kimono, and yes there are certifications for this kind of thing!). My memories with her are mainly of eating cake together in her house in Kōbe, listening to her tell me stories about her life. She came from a poor family and yet she was the most grateful - and the happiest - person I knew. The character for her name in Japanese (幸) actually means happiness. She shared the same birthday with my Dad, and she always said that giving birth to her first, healthy baby boy was the greatest gift she could have asked for.

I was not as close to Maja, perhaps because we were so similar - we even share the same birthday. She was a leader in her community, became a real estate agent (which I believe was rare for women at that time, in the 50s/60s), and was absolutely the matriarch of her family. I remember her being very stubborn and particular (eh hem, cannot ignore that I may have inherited these traits from her). She was proud of her Scandinavian heritage and her unwavering faith in God. Though I didn’t inherit that from her, I can now understand how such faith can be a buoy in times like these.

In Buddhism (which is technically the faith I grew up with and how I identify as an adult if someone asks about my religion), we believe that after someone dies, the soul hangs around until the 49th day after one’s death. On that day, the soul begins the journey to the Pure Lands (kind of like “Heaven” I suppose). We put our hands together in prayer at the shrine, light a candle, light incense, and warmly ask our ancestors to continue watching over us. It is a bizarre experience to sit in front of the shrine at home, that I watched my Grandmother sit at, then watched my Dad sit at, and now I am speaking to both of them when I sit there. I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet. So I keep repeating to myself, my Daddy is an ancestor.

I’m honestly shocked that I’ve been able to work at all since my Dad’s passing. I think a big part of this is the work ethic he instilled in me - OK, I have never (and will never) work as many hours as he did in a week, but he showed me what life can look and feel like when you genuinely love what you do. My Dad was a chef, and worked long hours for 6 days a week until he got sick a few years ago. He never once called in sick - until his cancer diagnosis. He took great pride in his work, and I loved to watch him working. He was a craftsman (職人), and was extremely disciplined and dedicated when it came to his work. He was passionate and creative, and I am so thankful he passed those things on to me.

My business and my work are a part of me, just like it was so for my Dad. We are constantly thinking about how to improve things, how to make them more beautiful, more delicious, more meaningful, more efficient - this work never ends. There is no “off” switch. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. My Dad may be gone, but I will never stop living in a way that would make him proud. My grandmothers, and my Dad too, are present in every wedding we produce, in every floral arrangement we make - how could it be otherwise?

For me, there is little more important than cultivating and celebrating life’s small joys. Why did I become a wedding planner? Because it’s just that, times a million. Being able to support others on their journey, in their own way, to celebrate their joy and their love…well, it’s a profound privilege. Sometimes we’re lucky, and the love is so expansive that it extends from the couple into our own lives as planners, and we become friends, community. There is nothing better than this; ones own world growing, moving forward, carrying everything our ancestors have given us.