If you have an encounter, there’ll always come a day when you have to say goodbye, right?

That’s something beyond our control, though.

But if we never met, we wouldn’t have these precious memories, either.

I see. That means half the tears from saying goodbye are tears of thanks.

In my time as a fan of anime, one of the things that has given me the greatest inspiration is a certain type of work whose primary goal is to give… a sense of calm. “Iyashikei”: we all have a sort of colloquial idea of what this term entails; soft, slow, low-stakes, relaxing. Comfy, as it is often said. Yet, I feel there is an extent to which the virtues of this so-called genre are undersold. Truly soothing art, art that reaches the deeper levels of the soul and calms, has the potential to mean much more than a simple cooldown. Iyashikei means more than simple utilitarian comfort to me; it’s something that calms on a deeper level, something to respark a sense of purity when all the negativity and sickness of the present world has worn and withered you down; as the term itself translates, “healing”. And that can be just as emotionally powerful, fulfilling, and meaningful as any other kind of story.

And if we are to meditate upon this, where better to look than the very most celebrated work in this genre/milieu, the Aria series?

For example, shows like Yuru Camp and Flying Witch achieve their intended effect by simply showing us the days and moments of people in an utter state of peace, of relaxation, and of oneness with nature, and I find those works deeply noble and important in their own rights. Likewise, there are many stories within the Aria series that are pure bliss, pure comfort, pure joy; they, like all the best work in this so-called genre, serve as a reminder of what a beautiful thing life can be when we stop to smell the roses, spend time doing what we love, with the people we love, and appreciate the sublime beauty which exists in the world around us, however simple or small-scale it may seem. It shows us how we can all afford to be a little more sentimental, a little more appreciative, a little more in touch with the wonderful things that do exist around us, and yes, dare I say it, a little more willing to be sappy. Yet, what makes the Aria series a cut above its peers, even those which I dearly love, is that it more fully faces the wide spectrum of human emotion; it allows its characters to be truly sad, anxious, even scared, face harsh truths, face genuine uncertainty; while still bringing it all back to a place of comfort and serene beauty. It doesn’t shy away from the sadder parts of life, yet never fails to bring a warm touch, light and healing unto them. And in my eyes, there is no greater example of this work’s propensity to do this than the time Aria, indirectly but essentially, covered the topic of impending personal loss; in a way, covering impending death itself.

Aria the Natural Episodes 16 and 17, “Parting With That Gondola…” and “After That Rainy Night…” comprise my favorite storyline in the entire original run of the series. The story revolves around the gondola Akari has rowed her entire career as an Undine up to now, the one we’ve seen in every single episode of the series and the one so many precious moments have taken place upon and by, finally reaching its time and needing to be replaced. Through these two episodes, we simply watch Akari reflect on her time with it, reliving her memories with a grand tour of Neo-Venezia, her and her friends saying their goodbyes, and her difficulties letting go, over the course of the very last day she has with it.

This is the only storyline in the original run of the Aria anime to be split across two episodes, effectively comprising a two-parter, and that is very important. This episode simply would not have the impact it does if it were just another standard-length storyline. For this time in Akari’s life to be truly conveyed to us, for us to feel the importance she feels of every single moment of these last days with her precious gondola, we need the extra time for every single scene to breathe, for every single second Akari has with the gondola to be savored to its absolute fullest.

This is not the only time Aria has confronted death; it’s tangled with it explicitly on a few occasions, from long-lost loved ones to even the supernatural; but this is the storyline that feels the most like a proper, in-depth portrait of what dealing with loss is truly like, and a very specific variety of that experience.

It’s worth noting how, in the beginning of the first episode, we see Akari getting ready to take her final tour with her gondola, and at first it seems she’s more than willing to let this be goodbye. And yet, after the tour and into the night, her impending feeling of loss only grows. She only becomes sadder at the thought of losing the gondola, and only grows more attached; it wouldn’t be so easy to just say goodbye like that. She couldn’t just purge her sadness and grief at losing something so sentimental to her, even with that big tour. There couldn’t just be a clean break. So she only clings to the gondola harder and harder, spending every second she still can in its embrace, sleeping in it overnight if she must. That’s how grief works; it doesn’t just go away once you’ve said your goodbyes. It lingers, and the more you try to push it down and say what’s done is done, the harder it’ll come back if you have not yet truly reckoned with it. It doesn’t feel like enough. It will never feel like enough time. There will always be that tugging feeling of reluctance, that difficulty; one can’t just say “goodbye” and move on.

Those which have helped us, those which have been important to us, it never feels like we can thank them enough, especially when their time is coming. It’s at once profound and tragic, an abundance of positive emotions too great to feel one can communicate them in a worthy fashion before the end.

Alicia understands these feelings, and supports Akari in them. Alicia shows her colors as Akari’s dearest support figure and mentor beautifully in this episode, having given Akari the day off to take her goodbye tour in the first place, and organizing the dinner with the other Undines. Alicia has always been there for Akari, always indulged her starry-eyed wonder and childishly fun ideas, and now that Akari is at a low point, she continues to do everything to let Akari feel. Where Aika and Alice can tease Akari sometimes, Alicia is a romantic at heart, same as Akari, and has always been the one with whom Akari could be herself to the greatest extent, express her feelings freely and find reciprocation in one who sees the world in much the same light she does. As Akari continues to attach herself to the gondola through the night, Alicia never pulls her away, never says “that’s enough”, never finds it silly to be so sentimental over a piece of wood. As we find out, this gondola is just as precious to Alicia, and though she may not be so outwardly emotional about it, this is a significant sentimental moment for her too.

In fact, there’s a beautiful sense of camaraderie between all the Undines as they all come to help Akari see her gondola off; they all know the joys of this life as much as Akari, and they’ve all formed a bond with one another in part thanks to this very gondola. In a sense, it’s like they’re all losing something special, something like a mutual friend, and it’s incredibly sweet to see them all be with Akari through this time and to be compelled to, too, say their goodbyes.

At the end of the day, though this episode does not shy away from the sadness, the grief, that inescapable ever-so-hard truth that Akari will never have another day, another experience, with her gondola again, it still parts us with a message about loss that is realistic yet reassuring. That is, the knowledge that though that which we hold dear may be gone, the joyous memories made with them won’t fade so easily. They’ve shaped us, those memories are part of the course of life that made us who we are. In that way, in some cosmic sense, they’re a part of us, always with us. It only behooves you to take care not to forget them; the best thing you can do for the departed is remember them, while still going on and living.

I think it does a great service to the themes on display that the series frames this event with the same level of importance and emotional reverence the characters feel. It’s treated as one of the most important moments in the series, reusing the original opening song and as aforementioned granting it two episodes of time. It shows a certain respect for the emotions of the characters, it validates them, like yes, this is something worth caring about, this is something that important to these people and that’s OK. It’s OK to be sentimental, and emotional, and sad over something like this. It fits into Aria’s ultimate core message of, basically, feel your feelings. Don’t be afraid to cry, be earnest, be open and honest. Feel. There are things in this world which are precious to us, and we shouldn’t spare an ounce of our emotions towards those things. Because, in part because, those emotions are transient. And in part because, it’s what makes us human, and denying our emotions is as good as denying our humanity.

I think it would be in part disingenuous to truly dissertate why this episode means what it does to me without bringing the most important piece of personal context into the picture. Mere weeks before reaching this point in the series, my beloved family cat, Oreo, finally had to leave our world in his old age. I still remember those last two days knowing he was likely soon to be put down, spending every second I could next to him, petting him, kissing his soft little head, reassuring him of my love for him, for the short time I knew his time was coming, with the knowledge that… once he’s gone, I’ll never be with him again. Ever. Period. It was something I didn’t get to wrap my head around even by the time he was gone. And to, in such close proximity to that event, see Akari, this character I had already grown to care for so deeply and see so much in that I wanted to see in myself, spending every remaining second she could touching that which she had so many fond memories of, cherishing every second she could while fully aware of its impending departure… needless to say, it struck something pretty deep. What Akari was feeling and how she chose to spend those precious last days with her gondola were near-identical to what I was feeling and how I chose to spend my precious last days with Oreo. Funny, how sometimes, something exactly right lands in your lap at the exact time in your life you need it.

For as hard as I cried watching these episodes for the first time and as much as they hit a fresh, truly sore spot in my heart, I can still say this story was a deeply helpful experience at a time I dearly needed it. Yes, it unlocked my deepest sadness, so many of my tears. But it also treated them with such a gentle attitude of kindness and understanding, made it feel a bit more normal to feel this way, soothed me by showing me a truly beautiful story that mirrored my own experience, and through an allegorical lens that was just a bit more swallowable in my freshly aggrieved state. It was at once saddening as well as, yes, healing.

Time wasn’t going to wait for me. It was going to march on, and Oreo was going to be gone before long. I couldn’t afford to do anything less than spend every second we could still possibly be together, together. I imagine if anyone had dealt with a similar loss of a family member or a close friend, or even a similarly sentimental and nostalgia-ridden object or location not unlike Akari’s gondola, and witnessed this story in such short succession, it may well hit even harder.

We don’t want good things to end. Time passes, whether we like it or not, and we must savor that which is precious to us while we still can.

We all know the saying, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. But what about when it’s about to be gone? That puts the importance of it into just as sharp contrast, but… just now, just for the time being, it’s still here. And with that knowledge, we can still appreciate it, truly appreciate it to our greatest extent, for that blessed little span of time it or they are still with us.

The time you spend with your precious things… is a long and joyful time. The tears you shed when you have to say goodbye… are a testament to that joyful time. So many memories rush over you… and being able to say “thank you” is a happiness in itself.

This writing is dedicated to my best friend, Oreo. May the kingdom of cats be ever kind to you, and may your memory never disappear…

2006-2021 🤍🖤