A year has passed since my father died. The night after the first anniversary memorial service, I rode the train alone toward the sea at Makuhari. My mother and sister said they would relax at home after the service. I had intended to do the same, but as evening fell, I suddenly felt the urge to go out. I didn't really know why myself. After several transfers, I got off at a station near the end of the line. Stepping through the small ticket gate, the scent of the sea immediately filled my no...