SPRING HAS SPRUNG AND SO HAS MY COVER REVEAL!

(Insert drum roll ….. and a loud WOOHOO!!!)

I am excited to share with you THE LAST CHERRY BLOSSOM Cover Reveal, which the fabulous blog iceybooks.com posted along with my interview AND a chance to win an Advanced Reading Copy of THE LAST CHERRY BLOSSOM!! 🙂  So please follow the link and enter the Giveaway on the iceybooks.com site!

Q&A with Kathleen Burkinshaw, Author of THE LAST CHERRY BLOSSOM—Plus Giveaway!

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THREE WORDS SAID ON A PLANE…

(I apologize ahead of time, because this post is longer than usual. But once you read it I think you’ll understand why)

“Prepare for Landing” three words that are said routinely when a plane reaches its destination. My seatbelt does not have to be buckled because I am one of those people that even when seatbelt sign goes off I keep it clasped. I do begin to chew gum and grip the armrests in preparation for the bump (hopefully a slight one) when we touch down on the tarmac.

I know what is normally expected when a plane lands and thankfully it has never varied. However, not so with life events. Because no matter how much I believe I thought something through and have a vision in my head on where all the pieces should land; there are still moments when I’m gripping the armrest expecting all to go as it should (well as I think it should) but then find myself tumbling off the seat and on to my bottom because I didn’t notice the seatbelt was broken.

This scenario happened when I was first diagnosed with RSD, when my mom was first diagnosed with Hepatitis C, and when she passed away in January. Events out of my control, which I fought but could not change the outcome that was part of God’s plan.

However, I found out that it can work in my favor as well. When we recently went to Hiroshima, I expected sadness. And there was that. Visiting the A dome in person and seeing the shell of a building with twisted metal inside its dilapidated walls encircled by crumbled cement and mortar, hit my heart’s center and broke it. The thought that so much death and horror engulfed this very spot where modern buildings now stood, took my breath away. It was only the first gasp of many that day as we toured the Hiroshima Peace Museum.

20150716_092615IMG_20150716_093401371hiroshima today from bridgehiroshima peace museum 1But, there was unexpected happiness. One moment happened before we toured the Hiroshima Peace Museum. I had an appointment with the librarian at the Hiroshima Victims Memorial Museum. She spoke relatively decent English (definitely better than I spoke Japanese). We had corresponded previously by email so I could apply to have my mother’s name and information of where she was at the time of the bombing, along with her Grandfather’s on the Memorial wall.

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The librarian and her colleague (who spoke no English) looked up information in old phonebooks and told me there was proof of my Great Grandfather living at the address in Hiroshima. All other paper documents were lost in the war so to have something concrete was like discovering him all over again! Also, they took the time to research old maps with current maps of city and pinpointed the area in Hiroshima where my mom’s house once stood. To my surprise, she lived much closer to the epicenter than she had described to me. She was about 2 KM away! A feeling of awe and amazement that even as close to the epicenter she was, she still survived. Definitely a living miracle in my eyes.

Armed with this newfound information about my family, we toured the Hiroshima Peace Museum exhibits. By this time in the trip, walking was no longer a viable option for me, so thankfully wheelchairs were available and we received our own personal guide through the museum.

When you enter the first wing of the museum, the walls are detailed like a brick building that had been hollowed out by the explosion. In these holes were pictures of the flattened landscape covered in smoldering building debris. As we turned the corner, there was a lifelike, wax depiction of the students who were in the center of town in the aftermath of the bomb’s detonation. Fire swirled and the children had skin peeling off their bodies. This brought tears to my eyes as I stifled a cry. My mother witnessed these scenes at the tender age of 12, too young to fully comprehend, yet old enough to NEVER FORGET.

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Some of the exhibits displayed fragments of clothing or other personal items left behind. In one area the actual steps from a bank where an eerie shadow is the only proof a person ever existed. (The shadow was left behind from the flash of the bomb as the body completely evaporated due to the extreme heat of the bomb). Other exhibits showed pieces of glass that were embedded in furniture and peoples’ bodies. My mother still had pieces of glass in her scalp from that day.

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We then stood in Peace Park in front of the cenotaph covering the stone coffin (where the names of the victims are inscribed after their death). The very stone coffin where my mom’s name will now be added next to her Grandfather’s. The cenotaph is an arch protecting the victims that could not be protected by any person that day 70 years ago.  I knew I would cry here. I planned for it with many tissues.

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And I used every one of them.   But, here is where the landing again did not go as expected—I felt a sense of peace. A sense of closure that she was where she wanted to be. I was so glad to honor her this way with my daughter and husband, whom she loved very much. I could feel her spirit with us.

But it did not end there. Because as we stood in peace park, the wind picked up and we were reminded that “Oh, yeah there is a typhoon headed straight for Hiroshima tonight.” Yup, a typhoon. Now you may wonder why the heck we had forgotten this small little detail. Well, the weather that morning was beautiful and the people in town and at the museum were not fazed by the incoming typhoon at all. Very unlike in the States where we would have 24 hour coverage and urgent pleas to batten down the hatches but not before getting as much milk and bread off the grocer’s shelves as humanly possible (I exaggerate, but not by much) 🙂

We now had a decision to make. DO we go back to where we were staying on Miyajima Island(part of Hiroshima but a 10 minute ferry ride over to it as it sits in the Seto Inland Sea), or stay somewhere on the mainland of Hiroshima? We decided to take a cab to the ferry and we caught the last one back to Miyajima Island. (I chose the hotel on Miyajima Island because my mother had her naming ceremony at the Shinto shrine on the island).

By that time the wind was howling and we hunkered down for the night (I was in pain and emotionally drained so sleep came surprisingly easier than expected). We awoke the next morning to a cloudy sky, no rain or flooding, and only a small amount of debris washed up on the beach. We were prepared for the worst, yet we were blessed and protected. I am sure my mom intervened on our behalf as a guardian angel and sheltered us from harm in her hometown.

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There was also joy in knowing that where I walked in Hiroshima and at the shrine on the island may have been the very paths she walked as a little girl before the bomb. I smiled as I viewed the panoramic scenery of the mountains surrounding the inland sea, thinking these were the views seen through my mother’s eyes of a home she once adored. In that moment, I felt the closest to her since she passed away. I was not prepared for that particular landing during our bittersweet visit.

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I am extremely grateful for that experience. I hope you can all take a few minutes tomorrow August 6th to remember the people under that famous mushroom cloud 70 years ago.  Because, they were someone’s mother, father, brother, sister, or child.  I will continue my mother’s prayer for peace so that it will never happen again.

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A New Year Ushers in a New Reality

As some of you may have noticed, I have been very quiet on the blogging front.
My mother, as I have mentioned in my last post, has been battling a serious disease. I have gratefully spent all my time and energy helping her on this journey of her illness. On January 15th, my Mother Toshiko, went to heaven. She gave me the gift of life some number of years ago. On that January day she blessed me with the gift of her last smile.

There is a new reality I must get used to. A new reality shadowed by emptiness and a broken heart.
My mother had to quickly adapt to her new reality of hospital stays and sickness beginning the week of Thanksgiving. But as sick and exhausted as she was, she certainly was never fragile. She exuded such mental strength. She knew how she wanted to treat her disease and made sure the doctors understood as well.

She worried about the grief I would feel and how that would increase my RSD pain after she left.
Once a mother always a mother.

However, she was not just my mother. She was a walking glimpse of history that inspired me and my writing. She lost so much at the age of 12 in Hiroshima. I will always be amazed and continue to say that she never lost the ability to love; especially when it came to my daughter or to me.

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I am grateful that she read the latest draft of THE LAST CHERRY BLOSSOM, and knew that it would be published.
She leaves an empty space in all of the upcoming first holidays and celebrations, but in time the cracks in my heart will fill with the memories of her love for me. I take comfort in knowing she is smiling down at my family and me, as she is reunited with hers in heaven.

If I can live my life with just half the strength and love that she lived hers, then I will truly be a success.
I miss you Mom and am so proud to be your daughter. I love you very much.

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Have you ever?

Have you Ever?

Have you ever noticed how in one moment something can change, just like that? Have you ever thought, wow if that car I was following wasn’t driving so slow I surely would have gotten a ticket because there was a cop just around the corner? It can’t be just me, can it?

Or have you ever arrived home after a very long, aggravating day just in time to receive a letter from a loved one?  Some people must still send them, right?

Have you ever been out when a flash of lightning turns a fun picnic into panic?  But soon, the clouds part to reveal a rainbow.

My recent moment was this past Sunday night.  I finally uploaded my first blog post! My husband innocently asked me, “What will your second post be about next week?”  What?! Second post-AAAHHHH! I ran to my laptop to search for “okay smarty pants you wrote your first blog post, now what……”

Then there were a string of more serious moments 13 years ago.

A routine five-day hospital stay turned into 14 days.  Soon followed by 14 more in a rehab hospital-no, not the Lindsay Lohan rehab, a physical rehab hospital.  One minute I was wearing my favorite sweater with this great long black skirt and these really chic black boots-I got such a great deal on those boots-but I digress.  I came home, unzipped those stylish black boots I got for a song, and my left leg inflated like a balloon.

Okay I thought, that was soooo not normal-quite an accurate clinical diagnosis if I do say so myself. But, just to be sure I looked up the symptoms in my medical book-yes I have one-OCD research is not a new trait for me.  The symptoms I had matched the ones listed for a blood clot.  Within an hour my husband and I found ourselves basking in the romantic ambiance of our local hospital’s emergency room. Oh, I should probably mention it also happened to be Valentines’ day. Yup, it was.  Can you hear the violins amidst the code calls?

I want to go back 69 years to another moment, albeit, not mine, but it affected me nonetheless. A 12-year-old girl in Hiroshima is outside laughing with her friend.  It had been raining for the past few days, so to be outside beneath the blazing sun of a clear, blue August sky was a welcomed change.  A bright flash…a loud popping noise… darkness.  Once the dust, fire storms, and ash cleared a 12-year-old girl’s life was turned upside down, shaping the person she would become. She faced enormous loss and change.  Yet, she is someone who never lost the ability to love.  She is a brave woman and I admire her with all my heart. She is my mother. That horrific instant in her life led her on the path to eventually marrying my dad, becoming a U.S. citizen, and giving birth to me.

In my manuscript, THE LAST CHERRY BLOSSOM, a character states, “Cherry blossoms are like life itself—so beautiful, yet so fragile that they bloom only a short time.”  Moments (unexpected-the good and the bad) we all have them.  I believe that these moments lead to the memories that our heart carries for a lifetime. Moments strung together make us who we are.

Have you ever?  Please share your moments below.

 

1-2-3 GO!

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Do you remember hearing this before a band-aid was pulled off when you were a child?  Well I am not so young, but I feel it applies for me today.  I have wanted to write a blog for some time.  My first excuse was that I did not know how to set one up.  My wonderful friend from Society Children Book Writers and Illustrators of the Carolinas (SCBWI Carolinas), Joan Edwards, came over one day and helped me with that roadblock.  Thank you, Joan!

However, after she left I kept staring at the blinking cursor seeing nothing but a blank page and hearing only cricket noise.  I wanted to write something meaningful, something that would make people want to come back to read week after week. I assumed that meant perfection.  So I did what I do best and began to research on how to write your first blog-I have obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) tendencies when it comes to research for my writing, craft ideas, looking for ways to stop procrastinating by doing too much research, etc.  You don’t even want to know how long I searched for the band-aid image!

Finally, I decided it is best to just go and write it.   And like ripping off the band-aid, I will rip off my defenses and open myself up to the readers.

I chose Creating Through the Pain, as my blog’s name because it describes the last 13 years of my life.  I had a teeny little blood clot that morphed into Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD), a chronic neurological pain disease that started in my left leg and has spread now to the right foot and both hands.  As a result, I had to switch from my corporate to my more creative side.  Eventually this led to my family making a geographical move we never thought we would.  Please understand that not every unexpected event led me happily to a change.  Actually most of them had me kicking and screaming because there was pain (physical and emotionally) and no immediate payoff was in sight for quite a while.  I had no way to prepare or research the options on which path would be better—did I mention I was OCD about research?  However, I can look back on the last 13 years and though it is not the path I ever thought I would take, I am happy where I am at this moment-that could change tomorrow or even the next hour but for now it is good.

All of our circumstances are not the same, but hopefully you and I can share how we each nurture our creative side and push through life’s unexpected twists and turns along the way. So here I go, 1-2-3 -POST!

I would love to hear from you!   Please share your unexpected event that led you down the path to creativity.