Welcoming 2024 after a December filled with Fudge, Gingerbread and Covid…Fa la la la la…🎶

In the first weekend of December I made my Christmas Fudge and stirred it all on my own-which, for me is the first in a few years. The pain in my hands makes it difficult to hold spoons. However, with a wider handle along with the upper arm exercises I need to do (so that I can move my walker or push my wheelchair), made it alittle easier to stir (I still hate doing the arm bike- but a little less now). I also found that when I was too tired to stir for a bit, it actually made the fudge taste better than it has in a few years!

I have made fudge (some years with help) since Sara was really young. It was also a big favorite of my Mom and Dad. I made sure to send their Christmas gift package to arrive the first week in December(which included my fudge to have on her birthday December 15th, for Christmas, and for my Dad’s birthday on 12/29). The fudge never made it to Christmas-heck, it never made it to the 15th! These memories make me smile at a time of year that I miss them the most.

What does this have to do with Gingerbread and Covid, you ask? Well,I’ll tell you,

As I mentioned above, my mom’s birthday,was December 15th, and she would have been 91 yrs. old!  We usually celebrated with an eclair(her favorite pastry)and fudge. But this year we toasted her with the most scrumptious hot chocolate I ever had and a gingerbread cookie at the Grove Park Inn.

I’ve wanted to see (alright, more like obsessed with) the National Gingerbread House Competition Entries for years since I found out it was only 2 1/2 hours away in Asheville. Many of my Christmas decorations have gingerbread on them, I sometimes bake gingerbread cookies(but prefer to buy them), and I love building gingerbread houses-well I love the idea of building one. My houses never stay together and I usually end up eating the candy decorations. Sadly, I’ve passed the skill(or lack thereof) on to Sara. But she still likes to try! I love that.

Matt & My 2022 farm before collapsing

Anyway… Matt surprised me with a weekend away as my early Christmas/Birthday gift. It was like being in a Hallmark movie-and if you know me, you know I LOVED every minute of it-no regrets .

And not only did I get the t-shirt, but my other souvenir (yup, you guessed it) …Covid.

At first, I thought it was just a cold, but within a day something just felt off. So I took out the test, studied the directions a few times, interrupted by horrible memories of my high school chemistry class, and finally felt I could handle the task. And within seconds it revealed the positive result.

Not gonna lie, I immediately panicked. But Matt talked me off the ledge, by reminding me that we had gotten the latest vaccine just before Thanksgiving. I contacted my doctor and she reassured me as well. First, I prayed,then researched on the Google machine, and then I threw vitamin C, Vitamin B,multivitamins,chinese herbs, and zinc at it. My symptoms were mild- stuffy nose, scratchy throat, a little coughing,headache, and extreme exhaustion. It’s a blessing that I never had a fever and never lost my sense of taste or smell. I know this because I tested it daily with my fudge-I believe they called that the scientific method(now you see why I had such horrible memories from my chemistry class)! I don’t know if taking all the vitamins/herbs/zinc worked but, I’m sure that prayer did.

Thank goodness Matt’s immune system is so much better than mine(although it doesn’t take much to beat me). He never had symptoms and never tested positive. And we were able to celebrate a lovely family Christmas on the 30th, (I was no longer contagious).

I am only left with extreme exhaustion which mixed with RSD pain is difficult. But it could have been so much worse. I know people that suffered so much and continue to have issues.

So as we start 2024, I’m sending you all a hug, and much love.💞 I pray that this New Year will bring us all a very healthy year filled with many moments of joy, and peace. 🎉🎍🙏

*I’m also praying for all those in Japan that have lost loved ones from, and all affected by the major earthquake in central Japan on New Year’s day.🙏❤️

August Remembrances and Celebrations

August 30th was International Grief Day. It’s fitting since August has always been a month that stood out in my family growing up. As you know my mother lost her family and friends in the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. Although I didn’t know why my mother had horrible nightmares, spent days in a darkened room depressed, or unexplained anger outbursts that left me walking on eggshells(until I was 11, but even then it was difficult to process). Now that I can, my heart breaks for that 12 year old girl who didn’t quite understand why the atomic bomb took away all she knew and loved. That little girl who had seen images she could never unsee. Images that haunted her the rest of her life.

As a result every August I am proud to tell her story, but it comes with a price. I grieve my mom all over again. It takes a lot out of me emotionally, and that affects me physically as well. Especially this year as I find myself grieving what I used to be able to do last year using a cane(prior to the tech malfunction of the spinal cord stim and spinal surgery this past February), and now dealing with more pain, using a walker/wheelchair and not quite knowing my ‘new normal’.

And yet…

Our family had some happy moments in August as well. The August of my sophomore year in college, the woman I knew as my Grandmother(you’ll read more about her in the sequel to TLCB) came to visit. I was so excited. She visited us in the US when I was 1 year old, but I of course I had no recollection of that visit(heck now I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday). Luckily, I do have a picture to remind me-of my grandmother’s visit- not my breakfast 😊

We had traveled to visit her in Tokyo when I was 8, those memories were a little fuzzy even for me as an 18 year old.Again, a picture helps.

She had tried to visit at Christmas when I was 16, but she had a mild heart attack at the airport before she boarded the plane. When I finally got to see her, it was beyond wonderful and surprising. My mouth dropped when she stepped out of the car with purple hair!-I kid you not!  (maybe that’s where my daughter gets it from) 😊

you can see just a glint of purple

My husband and I were dating at the time, so my Grandmother also had a chance to meet him. It was very important to get her blessing. I remember when Matt met her for the first time, he had brought her a plant(he worked at a nursery in the summer) and as he passed it to her, you could see his hands shaking. Later that night when Matt and I were at the door about to kiss good night, she came out of the shadows, smiled , opened the door, guided Matt onto the porch,waved and said,” bye –  bye” as she shut the door. I still laugh at that memory. Her visit brought happiness to my mother’s most difficult month.

front left my mom, my godmother, I’m the head behind her, my granmother in her leopard print 🙂 , my dad, my Godfather holding our dog at the time, Benji

And a bittersweet memory prior to Covid is August in 2019 .I went to RI for my father’s memorial service (he passed away in May 2019). Although there was grief, I also had opportunity to spend time with family and friends that I hadn’t seen in a few years who knew my Mom and Dad. We caught up on each other’s lives and reminisced of happy times when my parents were alive. I could feel the love surrounding us all through that visit.

That visit reminded me of Japan’s special commemoration during August when many families travel from all over the country to return and gather in their hometown. The holiday is O-bon (from the Ghost Festival in China) when people welcome back their ancestors (sosen) to visit their family home for a few days. This holiday, popular in Japan since the Edo period (1603 – 1887) may seem spooky at first, but it is really a beautiful festival to honor and recall happy times together with the loved ones who have passed away.

The O-bon festival origin story begins with Mokuren, the faithful follower of the Great Buddha- it’s a really interesting story about saving his mother’s spirit and if you would like to read more about it, one of the versions of this here or here

Mokuren
New World Encyclopedia

O-bon has Buddhists beliefs with elements of Shinto that was added over time is celebrated around August 12 – 16^th . But that date may vary depending on region or if using the lunar calendar. And you don’t have to be Buddhist to celebrate.

At the beginning of O-bon, many families may hang lanterns in front of houses to guide ancestors’ spirits back home for their temporary visits. Families may also visit gravesites, clean, and decorate them. In Hiroshima they decorate bamboo lanterns with colorful paper (bon touro) to bring to the graves.

Bon Tourou in Hiroshima by Soranews24

Inside the home, families may set up a temporary special altar called the Shoryodana in front of their family Buddhist altar (batsudan-that is there year round- in TLCB I mention that my mother’s family had one in her home as a child) where they place the ancestor’s favorite food . My mother did not celebrate O-bon in our home, but in August I did notice she put corn on the cob-his favorite (even though he grew up on a corn farm) and an ice cold glass of beer.So, maybe this was her way of celebrating it.

In the hot summer month,most people wear yukatas (summer kimono) while visiting colorful booths with yummy street food, and as with many celebrations, there is a dance.  

My daughter in yukata when atudied in Japan 2018

The festival dance- Bon Odori is a dance to folk music (Ondo) that can vary from region to region. Musicians (taiko drums play a big part) and singers perform on a raised platform(yagura). The yagura is put up to give a way for the spirits to come down and then to join the dance.  The dance can be in a circle or straight line-again depends on the region. But regardless of the region it is the older generation teaching the younger one and it is a joyous time.

After the 3 days of celebration the family may lead the spirits back by walking with lanterns back to the gravesite. In some areas floating lanterns (toro nagashi) with messages to their loved ones guide them back. In Hiroshima around August 6th, visitors to Peace park write messages of peace or messages to their loved ones on paper lanterns. At night these beautiful lanterns are lit and then launched in the river. I hope to have that opportunity some day.

O-Bon Festivals are held in other Asian countries as well as in the United States. However, since my mother did not do this tradition with me as a child, I had never been to one until we moved down here to Charlotte, NC! I met Japanese people from all over NC, South Carolina and Georgia (let me tell ya,when you see someone who looks Japanese yet speaks with a southern drawl…it’s like..Wait.. what?!) 🙂

We loved this event sponsored by the Japanese Association of Charlotte!  There were Japanese tea ceremonies, delicious Japanese food, various crafts, and a display of the ornamental dolls (hina-ningyo) that is usually put out on Hinamatsuri (Doll’s day or Girls Day) in March. But of course, the main event of this celebration-the Bon Odori-Sara even joined in the dance while someone kindly showed her what to do.

Interestingly, Hiroshima held an O-bon Festival one year after the atomic bombing amongst the ruins to honor the souls of the atomic bomb victims, like my Mom’s Papa. Hiroshima would not have another Obon festival until 2018 (I’m still trying to find out why it was so long)!

And this year is the first O-ban festival in Hiroshima since Covid shut everything down.

So, it only seems fitting that the year O-ban returns to Hiroshima, and it is six years almost to the day of the US book launch 6 years ago (8/13/16)

that:

🎉🎉cheering sound, taiko drum roll……..

THE LAST CHERRY BLOSSOM’s Japanese Translation by Holp Shuppan Publishing released on August 12^th 2022 !!!! スト・チェリー・ブロッサム　わたしのヒロシマ 🌸

I feel it is a wonderful way to honor my mom and Japanese ancestors in August. Isn’t the cover just adorable? I love how they focus on the friendship(my Mom wearing braids and red top) as well as her relationship with her Papa. I really appreciate that the Editor Ishihara Noe, translator Yoshida Chiyoko, cover designer Ogawa Keiko (originally from Hiroshima) and the artist Isshiki Mayumi took such care in this. I am so happy that there are pink cherry blossoms on the hardcover of book itself!

So, I put the book next to my mom and her Papa and light an electric candle and hope my mom and family can see
 スト・チェリー・ブロッサム　わたしのヒロシマ 🌸

My heart is full knowing that the Japanese translation of The Last Cherry Blossom is out in the world. It is a prayer answered-especially as I’m still trying to find my new normal and learning to walk again. A light after 6 months of feeling lost in the darkness of my anxiety and pain.  I can only imagine how proud my mother would have been to know that the story of that 12-year-old little girl in Hiroshima is now written in her native language of the country she grew up in – a country that always held a very special place in her heart.🙏❤️

Oh! In case you were wondering, my Grandmother loved Matt and gave us her blessing!

Linking up with Let’s Have Coffee

Source: https://www.sugimotousa.com/blog/obon-festival-history-and-guide https://blog.govoyagin.com/obon-bon-odori/ , GET HIROSHIMA Soranews24 ,New World Encyclopedia

A Snake, a Kitchen Ninja, and Japanese Art? (Plus Announcement*)

Back in early October my dog, Scarlet (aka the kitchen ninja I mention in my author bio) wanted to befriend a snake. Determined to kibosh that opportunity before it got started, I intervened. I knew it wouldn’t end well. As a result, I fell, hit my head, and suffered a mild concussion. (On the upside, I was right- it didn’t end well. But only for this silly human-snake and Scarlet were unharmed).

Scarlet resting after Snake encounter- while I was on opposite couch with ice pack on my head and back

  Thankfully, CT scan ruled out any internal bleeding from the blood thinners I take. But I became overly sensitive to lights/sounds which led to some severe headaches. A scarier symptom I had at the beginning was having a word in mind to write down yet writing a completely different word. I’m happy to say that hasn’t happened in a while.

Concerned when my severe headaches continued into December (past the usual 20-30 days), I decided to do what calms me- research. (Some people knit, I research) 😊 Before that, my husband reminded me that my noggin’ had been jostled in a rollover accident years ago. So, this is not my first concussion-is anyone who knows me really surprised?! 😊 (29 years ago, my husband and I were in a rollover accident on my birthday-yup true story! I hit my head on the passenger side window. My guardian angel definitely watched over us because it could have been so much worse-the car looked like an accordion). This could account for my symptoms lasting longer.

According to the Concussion Alliance, a concussion breaks the connections of the “billions of neurons” that form a pathway allowing our cells to communicate to do various tasks as well as react to emotions.
It takes a lot of cell energy to reconnect the network of neurons. That’s been the probable cause of my difficulties performing normal daily functions like focusing, forming words, pouring that much needed cup of java in the morning.

To complicate things further, as many of you know, I have Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS), also known as Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD). RSD already messes (technical medical term) 🙂 with the sympathetic nervous system, so that could also prolong my concussion headaches.

But another issue resurfaced after my CT scan- anxiety attacks. The test brought back traumatic memories of the two years that I spent having MRIs and CT scans as I went in and out of hospitals-at weeks at a time and nearly dying from a blood clot I had no control over. It probably doesn’t help that February 14th marks 20 years since that first hospital stay with a DVT that began my RSD journey.) Those memories added to the layer of swirling anxiety we all have with COVID-19, put my panic attacks on warp speed.

On a day that my headaches wouldn’t let up and I was feeling sorry for myself eating crispy rice treats straight out of the pan (yeah it was one of those days); I was reminded of God’s perfect timing when I received this beautifully painted wooden ornament from a talented artist and sweet friend- Kat Whitham in the mail.

This ornament represents the art of Kintsugi. Kintsugi (golden joinery) is a Japanese art form (over 400 years old) that mends broken pottery. But it isn’t just gluing pieces back together-the art is expressed through the materials used such as a lacquer mixed with gold, silver, or platinum. So instead of blending in or hiding that it was ever broken in the first place, it highlights the broken area thereby bringing a new beauty to the item.

Interestingly, over 9 years ago while researching and writing TLCB, I came across Kintsugi art for the first time. I kept the notes in my folder labeled “to be used in sequel”- I was nothing if not hopeful 😊.

Being someone who tends to drop things a lot (even before RSD affected my hands) I have become quite a whiz with a glue gun. Whenever I mend a broken object, I try to make it look as seamless as possible so no one can tell (anyone else remember that Brady Bunch episode of trying to fix the broken vase from playing ball in the house?) I digress…

So, as I work on my sequel (ever hopeful), I truly feel that Kintsugi-beauty in one’s brokenness- applies to my mother. Her heart and life shattered into so many pieces on August 6th. Because of her survivor guilt, PTSD, and prejudice against atomic bomb survivors (out of fear of radiation poisoning) she didn’t think she had a reason for existing anymore, so why should anyone else want her? She felt she should hide so much of her pain.

When I look back 20 years ago, I see the beauty of the time my mom poured her heart out to me with memories of the atomic bombing at a time when I felt broken and that my life would never be the same because of the RSD diagnosis. Kintsugi’s concept that objects can still be beautiful even while emphasizing the breaking point made me realize that when life events shook me leaving a crevice that I felt could never be filled, followed by the belief that I would never be whole again-nor even want to be whole again; hope still existed. Instead of hiding these fractured moments in my life, it’s okay-even preferable to let them shine recognizing that they make me who I am today. The spaces in my heart now filled in with fortitude, empathy, and compassion.

Mom & I shortly after my RSD diagnosis 20 yrs ago

My Mom never discussed Kintsugi with me, so not sure if I’ll actually use the specific art in the sequel. But I can say you’ll definitely recognize a similar theme for the main character, Yuriko, as she tries to come to her own conclusion as to what “living her life” means for her after the atomic bombing.

Okay, back to the beautiful and timely gift. I love the hearts on the ornament. I feel that they are representative of the love of family, friends, along with my faith that slowly fills in the gaps yet, leaving me open to opportunities. Opportunities to share empathy with others who may have gone through something similar health wise as well as keeping my mother’s voice as a Hibakusha alive. I can find my purpose again (just as my mom once told me 20 years ago). ❤

It’s taking longer than I’d like for my neuron pathways to reconnect and I’m still working through my anxiety attacks. But the timing of receiving this ornament, being reminded of Kintsugi, has given me a new way to look at what I saw as a loss because of the months I had to take off from email, virtual events, and screen/phone time to deal with extra pain. I’m already limited from my RSD pain and I was angry at myself for doing something so stupid that made me feel even less productive.

Yet in that space, I found comfort working on my sequel. I couldn’t do it for too long because of the headaches but that took the pressure off of writing until I thought it was “perfect”. We eat by candlelight which was kind of nice-dare I say, romantic. Okay we can’t always see what we were eating, but sometimes that works to my advantage though. In addition to this, I’m learning to be better at setting boundaries with my time/energy.

So along with a lot of deep breathing, mindfulness exercises, virtual appointments with my therapist, and prayer, I have also been journaling my thoughts of helplessness, fear, and panic. I hope that it will give me some peace. I’m also hopeful that journaling about my panic attacks, will give me insights to my character Yuriko’s (based on my mom) PTSD symptoms in the sequel to The Last Cherry Blossom.

January and February can be reminders of the various breaks in my heart. My Godfather passed away on January 4th 7 years ago, my mom passed away 6 years ago on January 15th and February 14th marks the event 20 years ago that my current panic attacks are connected to. But even though I still feel the loss, I can also feel the love of all those that were there for me then and are here for me now.

I hope that some of my rambling today may help someone else see beauty in their brokenness. And I pray I’m able to continue to share my empathy and compassion for the emotional scars that my mother had from the atomic bombing with students/future voters so nuclear weapons are never used again.  Which leads me to my announcement:

*I’m humbled by and very grateful for an invitation from the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum to participate in a virtual event to honor my mom and discuss being a 2nd gen Hibakusha in the US, this Friday night(Feb 12th 8pmEST)!! ❤   My session is titled “A Hibaku Nisei’s (2nd gen survivor of atomic bombing) Labor of Love.” My friend (Hibakusha sister) and amazing award winning author Naomi Hirahara (Mas Arais mystery series) will also be speaking about her parents who were both in Hiroshima atomic bombing. The museum enjoyed the program we did together for the Japanese American National Museum last August.*

P.S.  In case you’re wondering, the snake was a black rat snake (Pantherophis Obsoletus – for you snake aficionados out there). They are supposedly harmless but did not look that way to me at the time! From now on the (aging) kitchen ninja can fight her own battles-I (also aging) have learned my lesson…

 

 

 

Also sharing at

The Ornaments of Christmas Past

In the early morning hours when I cannot sleep, I love coming downstairs, snuggling under my Christmas blanket, and sit in the warm glow of the Christmas tree. The blue lights hung around our front door and palm tree outside shimmer through the frosted windows. We have a new gold star as the crowning glory of our tree, casting just the right amount of light. Wrapped around the base of our tree is a gorgeous hand quilted tree skirt I received as a wedding shower gift.

As with many families, our ornaments have memories attached to them. There are ones we have purchased at each new place we traveled to, ornaments celebrating Matt and my first dating Christmas(1985), first married Christmas, Sara’s first Christmas (23 years ago!), and some ornaments from close friends, such as one that I received (from close friends of my parents- that now celebrate Christmas in heaven) when I was 8 years old(I will not say how many years ago that was) 😊

Each year Matt hangs ornaments that he actually painted as a child. Unfortunately, I have very little ornaments from my childhood. The one ornament I have is of gingerbread angels and gingerbread men. It is peeling and probably made with lead paint, but I treasure it just the same.

(Matt’s painted ornaments)

When I look at it, I’m reminded of the very first gift I chose and paid for all by myself. I was in first grade and our school library had a small craft fair. I remember being so proud that I bought my parents a gift with my very own quarter (yup that’s what it cost). My treasure of a find was a small glass snowman with a black hat and a green scarf. I remember how happy and surprised my parents were when they opened it. They hung it on the tree every year. I loved how it sparkled when placed just so in front of the string of tree lights. Sadly, I no longer know where it is since circumstances prevented me from having the ornaments from my childhood.

This Advent season amidst the waiting, the hope and joy of the Christmas season, there’s also loss and hearts needing to be healed. I will of course be missing my mom and my Godfather (who I can’t believe have been gone 5 and 6 years respectively). It’s only 7 months since my Dad passed away and a few weeks ago, we unexpectedly lost someone very dear to our hearts. She “adopted” my family nearly 12 years ago when she learned we had just moved to NC and I was so far away from family for the very first time. Her family(her husband and daughter-my bestie) then became family to us as well.

To be honest, I’m grieving and the idea of having merriment eludes me at times. I try to hide it, but I’m clinging to my faith- sometimes grasping at it so tightly, hands clenched, white knuckled in prayer (at least they would be if my hands were better). Yet, I also feel guilty because there are some wonderful possibilities opening up for me, so I should be rejoicing in that. But if I’m rejoicing, shouldn’t I be grieving? My emotions love to play this ping pong match with my heart. I have been trying to think about how my loved ones would have reacted to these future possibilities, and that makes me smile. I’m hopeful when I recognize the joy in these grace filled moments.

Although I may not have all the physical ornaments of my childhood, I do have memories of them boosted by some blurry pictures of the Christmas tree from my childhood. But, more importantly I have memories of my parent’s smiles when they opened that messily wrapped snowman package (those of you who know me well, know that my wrapping skills have not improved and I can’t even blame RSD for that). 🙂

Snowman circled in blue near teddy bear

I know that no matter what gift may be under the tree or hanging on it- like my precious quarter bin snowman ornament – a physical present can never replace a person’s presence. So, tomorrow I will delight in sharing my fond, loving memories of past Christmas celebrations with our loved ones. I hope I can be the peace that someone else may need with my presence as we grieve, reminisce, and smile together on Jesus’ birthday.

Wishing you & your loved ones a blessed, joyous holiday season, enjoying each other’s presence, along with a healthy, peace-filled New Year! I look forward to sharing my November experience at the United Nations and other exciting news in 2020! 

WHEN YOU CAN’T PHONE HOME

Copyright The Japan News Yomiuri

As I attempt navigating the grief journey once again with the recent loss of my Dad, I think about a recent BBC podcast, Heart and Soul. The episode discussed a small town in Northern Japan-Iwate prefecture. It wasn’t about the horrible damage sustained from the earthquake and tsunami that took 2,000 lives in 2011. Instead, the podcast focused on the love that their surviving residents have for the loved ones they’ve lost. Even though their loved ones are not here physically, residents have a unique way to connect with them.(There’s also a great NHK program about this topic).

In Iwate, a white telephone booth overlooks the sea in Itaru Sasaki’s yard. Yes, an actual phone booth with a rotary phone (not connected ). In Japanese it’s called “kaze no denwa” meaning phone of the wind. A sign greets you as you enter the phone booth with the words, “Welcome, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Sasaki-san actually began building the booth, when his cousin passed away in November 2010 and finished it shortly after the 2011 tsunami. Since then, over 20,000 people have visited to connect with their lost loved ones. I imagine that in such a digital age, the very act of using the rotary dial gives a calming mindfulness before sharing pieces of their heart.

Listening to the podcast, two memories came to mind. The first, took place when the woman I knew as my Grandmother passed away in Japan. My Mom and I would call my Grandmother’s number and just listen to the familiar ringing across the ocean.We pictured her picking up the phone and saying hello to us. It was our way to let her know we still were thinking of her. We needed a connection. I also remember the somber day when I called that number and heard the message that the phone was no longer in use.

My Grandmother & I, Tokyo. Copyright KathleenBurkinshaw

My second memory is that I saved one of my mom’s voicemails so that I can still hear her voice and ‘speak’ with her whenever I want/need to.

When my Dad passed away 11 days ago, my Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD) pain flare prevented me from going up north to see him in the hospital. However, the wonderful nurses kept me updated by phone. More importantly, when hospice services commenced the day before he passed away, I had a God-Nudge(instead of a ‘God Wink’), for lack of a better word, to call him. When I did, the kind nurse held the phone to my father’s ear for a 15-minute conversation. Well, not exactly a conversation, I mostly babbled on about memories of my childhood with him and my Mom. He did respond and it was the last real conversation I had with him lucid. My daughter also had a chance to speak with him.

On the morning of the 31st, I called to check on him. I spoke only a minute or so with him. He was drowsy from medication yet, zealously enjoying an orange Popsicle. His favorite flavor. 😊

Later that day, I experienced another overwhelming God-Nudge to call and check on him. The nurse said all vital signs stable, he was resting comfortably, and nothing may happen until the evening or the weekend. Still, I asked if she would hold the phone to his ear so I could speak to him. She did and also held his hand, giving him the feeling that I was physically at his side. I had a chance to say who he’d be seeing in heaven and some things I didn’t get to say in the past few years we were estranged (his choosing not mine). I told him I forgave him (I meant it), loved him (I loved him, not his choices), and would always be his ‘little girl’. And to the shock of the nurse, he went to heaven right then and there.

copyright KBurkinshaw

As devastating as that moment was, I like to think that he waited for me to show how much I meant to him. To show me that he loved me despite some of his actions in the past. It’s a blessing for me and what I try to remind myself of when guilt for not being there rolls in. I am now dealing with anxiety attacks and the memories of the last few days with my mom have returned with a vengeance. It feels like I am losing her all over again along with my Dad.

However, the most difficult realization for me is that the two people who brought me into this world are no longer here. It can be like a punch in the gut without warning hitting me at any point during the day, or night. I know and cherish that I have my loving husband and daughter, a loving extended family and friends, but it’s not the same connection. There’s a hollowness in my heart right now, that I know, in time will fill with the loving memories instead of breaking from the trauma of losing them. I remind myself and find solace in knowing that Jesus knew me before I was born and is always with me.

 

So, I may not have a “kaze no denwa”, but that doesn’t stop me from talking to them during the day and/or night. I hope my messages of love and how much I miss them swirls upward to my family in heaven. I take comfort that someday in the distant future, I will hear my parents say, “Welcome, I’ve been waiting for you!” ❤

In memory of David Hilliker 12/29/1937 – 5/31/2019- Airman Second Class and Crew Chief of 90th bomb squadron, US Air Force, loving husband, Jet Mechanic/Quality Control,Park Caretaker, and loving Grandpa. But most importantly- my Daddy ❤ ❤

Copyright KathleenBurkinshaw

 

I’m also sharing this post at:  Welcome Heart.

 

4 Must Have Items On My Vacation Packing List

1. Ibuprofen (Check)
2. Clothes for any possible temperature(Check)
3. Audio book downloaded (Check)
4. Night-light (??)

Yup night-light. I’m not afraid of monsters under my bed, more of what goes bump in the night- like me- right into a bathroom door in an unfamiliar place.

I don’t sleep well when away-extra pain from travel, bad mattress, etc.so when awake, I use the rest room. The bathroom wasn’t far and I didn’t want to turn the big light on and wake my husband (occasionally I’m considerate like that). I thought I’d walk in safely by doing -you know- the zombie walk- with arms (or for me one arm and a cane) out in front, and, BAM! Walked right into the door. Now, I needed ibuprofen that I unpacked in the kitchen earlier.

While doing my best Ninja impersonation sliding up against wall (to avoid anything that might be in my path) from the bathroom to the bedroom door leading to the kitchen, it dawned on me-my phone has a flashlight! Once again, I prove that owning a smart phone does not necessarily mean I’m a smart user. Anyway…

I knew I wouldn’t fall back asleep, so I decided to read in the living room. For Christians it’s the season of Lent and I brought the book, Whispers of Rest, by Bonnie Gray with me. I first discovered her blog posts on (in)courage and felt a connection through our Asian American heritage. Her words drew me in and keep me inspired. I enjoyed her short daily chapters that ended with reflection questions. I answered them in a notebook, and then extended it to writing scenes for my current manuscript drafts.

That morning’s journaling along with my recent door ‘incident’, had me realize that I was searching blindly for any remedy/solution for the extra pain from my newer medical issues. I desperately wanted to at least feel the age I am instead of 30+ years more and feared the progression of my RSD symptoms. On the writing front, I had been researching for my manuscript drafts, yet still not sure which direction I wanted to go with them. Instead of hitting the proverbial wall, I hit a door (you know I’ve got to be different) 😊 Not that morning’s actual wooden door kind, but the exhausted, anxious, conflicted, pain filled, and defeated door-which hurts a heck of a lot more. It’s harder for me to open and walk through, that’s for sure.

You see, before our vacation, I felt depressed and worried that I wouldn’t enjoy our daughter’s last Spring break with us (she’s graduating from college in May-Wait, WHAT?!) 😊 My pain level prior to it made it difficult to leave the house for doctor appointments, let alone going somewhere fun. Thankfully, Hilton Head’s temperatures were much warmer than NC’s and we spent more time just being together than going places. However, we did see Captain Marvel (AMAZING Movie!!) but more importantly all of the cinema’s seats were recliners, Y’all! Perfect to keep my leg from swelling!

This year our mom/daughter beach day tradition began with a light breeze, warm sunshine, and hardly a cloud in the sky. As I watched and listened to the swishing of the lightly foaming waves reaching the shore, my body relaxed, and I sighed. It was as if the refreshing ocean air pushed out all that fight or flight that’s been stuck churning inside me in that one exhale. That’s one of the reasons that the beach is my happy place.

I love that I can’t see what’s beyond the horizon-reminding me that possibilities are endless. Something I easily forget. Later we watched two dolphins jump in and out of the water, almost as if to remind us it’s okay to take time to play without any other porpoise (sorry, couldn’t resist) in mind. The quiet moments just sitting with my daughter on our beach towels cradled by the warm sand, are just as precious as our conversations. I marveled at the fact that she was no longer the little girl wanting to build sand castles, but a young woman about to graduate college and start building her own life (although she still relied on me to pack the sun screen, water and snacks for the beach) 😊

Lately, my paths shifted way too often from the direction I originally intended. I had no control over which doors would slam shut. But I’m starting to realize it’s not necessarily a bad thing. Even if it may feel that I’m blindly walking into doors when I could have used a flashlight to light the way. Hindsight is always 20/20. Some days it seems I’m failing at each opportunity I step toward, and I think maybe I should just stop trying, already. But if I keep stepping forward, (okay, more like stumbling forward), on a different course than what I’m comfortable traveling, somewhere along the wall I eventually find a door and choose to step through it.

Sometimes what’s on the other side of that door, may be a blessing/success others will notice, but the more important ones are usually felt in our heart. It might just refresh my soul-allowing me to create, not for perfection, but just to enjoy creating for myself in the moment.

This feeling of contentment may not announce itself with a parting of the clouds, or bright light “Alleluia!” moment. Instead, it’s in the quiet form of a hug from a loved one, lunch with supportive friends, an inspiring comment to a blog post I wrote, a student telling me the story I wrote about someone I loved touched them deeply, or the comfort of just sitting on the beach next to my family. I will have times when no matter how much I prepare or how frantic I may feel; I cannot control or foresee all possible outcomes to a situation-that’s where prayer(flashlight) comes in. Although, I still highly recommend packing a night-light.

What would be the top 4 items on your packing list?

 

I’m also sharing this post at:  Welcome Heart.

 

 

 

 

ESCAPE PLAN

I recently visited an escape room for the first time. If you haven’t been it’s a venue where you choose a theme location you would like to attempt your escape from. Being a fan of mystery novels, shows like Psych, Murder She Wrote, Columbo– basically anything on Hallmark Movies and Mystery Channel-I chose a murder mystery theme (I’m nothing, if not predictable). We arrived early and while we waited, I glanced around the reception area’s walls decorated with signs of the success rate of each room- ours was much lower than I anticipated.

In addition to that, we were only 3 people, so we joined a party of 5(all younger than us and some who had done an escape room before). But I wasn’t too worried, I mean, as I said I’ve watched every episode of Psych, Murder She Wrote, Columbo-more than well, let’s just say a lot, and as a child,I wanted to be Nancy Drew😊

I also knew that if we were stumped, we could request assistance. They (in this case employees) also watch you the entire time, can hear your discussions, and will jump in if they suspect you’re really stuck and too stubborn(embarrassed?) to ask for help. Oh! An important fact- you have only one hour to solve and get out of the room. Now, an hour may seem like a long time (like when waiting for brownies to bake), but when you are racing against a clock trying to win something it goes by as quickly as the flash of lightning that started off our murder mystery. And yes, the lights went out after our initial blast of thunder and lightning. Lights came back on, butler dead, and told that you must figure out who did it and how; or else you’ll be the ones arrested when the police arrive in one hour.

You start searching for clues, and some gave access to a couple of secret rooms-which was super cool! One thing I will tell you-if you need reading glasses-Y’all know who you are-remember to bring them-no I didn’t forget to bring mine with me. But I did forget them in my purse- in the locker outside our room (my husband, the Eagle Scout brought in his). And wouldn’t you know there were at least 5 places you needed to read combinations in teeny tiny letters/numbers. So that took my friend and I out of those clues entirely-not to mention making you feel older than you already do. But I digress….

Today they’re so many ways we can reach out to people all over the world, yet, we are mostly by ourselves and rarely engage face to face with others.  So now, you want to have fun, no phones allowed (which I liked), but also must work together with people you do not know. You must depend on hints they find and have confidence to state yours.

I found myself not always speaking up until I realized that it was me, they were going to arrest-yup, always be suspicious of the woman with the cane wearing cute shoes. Luckily, since they were watching/listening and the people we were with were very close to solving, we received an extra 2 minutes. We escaped and could say we (well, to be fair, the other 5) conquered that room!

I guess that’s kind of how I could sum up the months of January and February. I made it out. But only with the help of loved ones and with God watching over and guiding me through it all.

This past January marked 5 years since my Godfather (who was like an older brother to me) passed away, my husband’s grandfather passed away (a wonderful man who was 102 years old), and it all centered around my mother’s 4^th anniversary. If that wasn’t enough, the cherry on this sundae of grief:  being ushered into a decade that I wasn’t really looking forward to entering. I spent a good part of the last few weeks in constant fight or flight mode. I felt uneasy, had panic attacks, and lost a lot of sleep (to dreams of my mom’s last moments in hospice).

This Valentine’s Day marked 18 years since a romantic restaurant dinner turned into peanut butter crackers and a can of soda in the ambiance of an emergency room. The Deep Vein Thrombosis(blood clot) with an easy 5-day hospital stay morphed into 31 nightmarish days and ended with a diagnosis of Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD)*. The horrible dreams that kept me up this month were about my time in the physical rehab hospital. Because at that time I was one of their youngest patients, staff placed me with an elderly woman and asked to watch her for them. Being a people pleaser, I of course, said yes. Let’s just say that the day I caught her smoking in our bathroom-did I mention she was on oxygen?  I lost it. All I could think was I survived a DVT in two places that nearly killed me only to be blown to smithereens at rehab! True story.

I also know that 2019 is a big year for changes. Not just my age, but my daughter is graduating from college and most likely will move away for a job. I worry about my new pain issue that the stent didn’t alleviate, and I need to find a focus for my writing. However, I have hope that I will walk through (okay limp through) this season of change and escape to the next year successfully, because of the people in my life and the strength God will give me.

❤ Thank you to my family, my friends near and far for their love, birthday wishes and going out of their way to make it a special time for me. I love you all very much. ❤

*RSD (also known as Complex Regional Pain Syndrome) is a chronic, progressive nerve pain disorder. The sympathetic nervous system and immune system go haywire causing burning pain long after initial injury/damage has healed.

Also will be sharing at: Welcome Heart.

 

 

 

Behind the Mask

(Halloween/Fall wreath I made last year)

One week out from Halloween, a day when people put on another face or personality, I thought about how much we sometimes pretend to be something that we’re not-or when we push something to the side instead of facing it(okay, it’s really about how much I do this). It’s been my theme for the past 12 months after the spinal cord stim (SCS) surgery(October 2017). With each medical procedure (to bring you up to speed, there were 3), I expected to be a step toward feeling better. Yet, other physical issues cropped up and a few visits from my old friend DVT(a.k.a. blood clots), had pretty much zapped away any strength or writing focus I have been grasping in my cold arthritic hands.

Please don’t get me wrong, I did have some fantastic news (TLCB being nominated for N. Carolina and Tennessee book awards!) and opportunities (most recently-my 1st time as an Author Moderator at ReadUp festival, SC) in 2018 amidst the various health issues, of which I’m very grateful. But pain has drained my energy and for each fun opportunity, my recovery period lasted longer than the time before. This is one of the reasons, I haven’t written a blog post in so long. I didn’t feel very creative and I didn’t want to sound so negative or ungrateful. Usually I like to share how I’m dealing with the difficulty and quite frankly I am still searching for a way to get through all this.

Being able to honor my mom while discussing The Last Cherry Blossom (TLCB) with students and knowing that I may have played a small role in their understanding that nuclear weapons should never be used again brings joy and meaning into my life. I have no regrets devoting my energy to that. However, I’ve also come to realize that when I’m doing school or conference visits, I’m unable to devote quality time to research and writing. I must confess that I’m disappointed that I can’t do both, as I originally intended. If I’m really honest with myself, I’m extremely ticked off that Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD) brought my career to a halt 17 years ago and now that I thought I found something I could do, the progression of RSD may take that away as well. (it seems that my RSD pain is spreading to the incision site of the stent implanted in June-heavy, heavy sigh).

There have also been other factors causing me to question how I will proceed with writing. As some may know, this past spring the parent company (Skyhorse Publishing) of the imprint that published TLCB (Sky Pony Press), reduced the number of books it will be publishing annually, and their reorganization laid off the editorial staff of Sky Pony Press. So, my hope of a sequel to TLCB, to which I was devoting my time and energy, when I had it, is now looking less certain.

Any self-confidence I had evaporated. Insecurity and the awful feeling that I’ve let people down quickly swooped in to replace it. I’ve been pushing these feelings aside for the past months and pretending everything is going well. I mean, if I say something long enough, it becomes true, doesn’t it?  Sort of like if I keep saying when you eat crispy rice treats straight from the pan, there are less calories-don’t judge. 😊

I do have other ideas for manuscripts and have even started researching/writing them. Yet the story my heart yearns to tell is the one of my main character, Yuriko. How she is trying to find meaning for her life and dealing with symptoms of PTSD, while living among the soldiers of the US Occupation forces and without her Papa.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to acknowledge the fact that my health may not get any better than it is right now-and may even be getting worse. I’ve been praying. I’m reminded that with God all things are possible and that He is made stronger in our weakness (I know I gave Him one huge energy booster shot over the past year). I don’t like change-but then again, who does? So, I decided to write this post while I’m still in the mess of it all. The feelings are no longer put aside and hidden with a smile.

(EEK! A mask on building in Izu from our visit in 2015)

I hope I can gain a little more of my pre-surgery physical and emotional strength back. And you can be sure that I will keep visiting with students (I just may have to do more Skype visits). But I need to work on accepting the fact that an instant solution to all this will not arrive gift wrapped and tied with a sparkling bow-oh, but wouldn’t it be cool if it did?! 😊 So, the mask is off, and hopefully I won’t scare anyone away while I’m waiting.

Also sharing my post at :

There’s No Place Like Home

I have lost most of June and July to surgical procedures and complications. The surgical procedure was planned yet the hospitalization afterward, not so much. Well, that’s not exactly true, the doctor said it might happen sooo… with my medical luck I should’ve known I’d probably be hospitalized (my less than 1% rule) 😊. However, I did not plan for the intense myriad of emotions I encountered in that 24 hour stay.

My anxiety level was off the charts. All the helplessness and fear from 17 years ago rushed back in like they never left. The difficult memories of the hours spent at my mom’s bedside three years ago (during the last few months of her life) stopped in to chatter as well.

Some of you may know that hospital beds are not comfortable AND if you want to sleep, a hospital is a place to get better; NOT the place to get rest 😊 I felt very alone(even with the various nurses coming in and my anxiety to keep me company). I worried something else would go wrong and I’d be stuck with a longer stay(just like 17 years ago).

Thankfully, the surgeon discharged me the next day. I was thrilled to be home, yet I was on edge. I couldn’t sleep. I was in a lot of pain. When they found another blood clot in the Ilial vein 4 days after surgery, I realized I had no control of my recovery. Luckily no hospital stay, I just had to give myself Lovenox injections. The day I gave myself my first shot, the panic attacks began. (Thankfully my therapist will do phone visits with me, when I can’t easily leave the house). I wish I could say, I spent the time working on my manuscript. Sadly, I could not focus. That frustrated me to no end.

But, the Lord answered prayers(thank you everyone) over the last couple weeks, because the acute, intense pain from the Ilial vein blockage has started to ease(thank you stent), I’m closer to just my RSD pain level(can’t believe I’d ever be happy about that)😊, and my left foot’s blue shade has faded to a lovely aqua hue. I’ve started writing/researching again. My stamina is not where I’d like it to be yet, but I have an incentive to work toward…

My daughter will finally be home on Tuesday 31st!! (Yay!) 🙂 She completed her 4-month semester at Tokyo International University in Japan. It will then be a 2 ½ week mad dash until we bring her to Wilmington to start her senior year at UNCW! But she will be in her own bed at home with us for those 2 ½ weeks.

Sara and host family at summer festival wearing yukata(light summer kimono)

I would love to say I handled her being so far away in stride and that even when earthquakes were reported near Tokyo (there were two) I was calm, cool, and collected…Ha! Nope, more like tense, scared, and terrified. I worried and missed her A LOT. It took(and still will until I can hug her) a lot of praying and faith that she would be safe, meet nice people, enjoy herself-oh and learn Japanese at the same time! Although, it helped knowing she’d have angels watching over her-especially my Mom.

Sara thankfully, escaped natural disasters in Japan. However, a place close to her, my mother’s, and my heart-Hiroshima- has not. On July 6th heavy rains caused horrible flooding and mudslides in Western Japan affecting Hiroshima, Ehime, and Okayama.210 people are dead and 14 still missing. Extreme heat hinders the clean-up and searches.Last week 1200 people were still in shelters in Hiroshima and many homes were still without running water. The flood and mudslides damaged some schools. They’ve lost textbooks and supplies.

Hiroshima flood copyright CNN

I’m waiting to hear back from the school in Hiroshima that recently did something wonderful for THE LAST CHERRY BLOSSOM (more about that in a future post) to see how I can help them. Please keep the people in these regions and the people trying to help them in your thoughts and prayers ❤ ❤ ❤

(People have asked me if there is a way to donate money to this area. The US-Japan Council and Japanese American Citizens League have organized the Japan Floods Friendship Fund. If anyone wishes to make a tax-deductible donation, please visit this link: http://www.usjapancouncil.org/japan_flood_friendship_fund.)

Thank you so very much. ❤

This post will also be shared at

On This Mother’s Day

Since my mom passed away, Mother’s Day seems to sneak up on me. I admit that I still turn the channel if a Mother’s Day commercial comes on-I just don’t have enough tissues in the house 😊.

This Mother’s Day is the first one (I’m sure of many) when I’m not with my daughter. We are still adjusting that she will be studying in Tokyo for another 3 months (although, the first month seemed to whizz by). But thankfully the ability to video chat and text her through the LINE app on our phone without any cost, helps a great deal!

I remember my very first Mother’s Day-my daughter was 6 months old and she sat up by herself for the first time-I of course convinced myself that she waited to do that just for me, on that day. I also remember my Mom thanking me that day for giving her a granddaughter to love.

I remember the Mother’s Day a few years later, after I had spent so much time very ill in the hospital with the debilitating blood clot, my then 4-year-old daughter gave me an adorable handmade card of a heart. Inside the heart she drew a picture of her and I holding hands-best stick people ever 😊 When she handed it to me, she hugged me and whispered in my ear, Thank you for not going to heaven. I can’t even……. ❤ I don’t think I could ever truly put into words how my heart felt at that moment.

On this Mother’s Day, the Japanese Wi-Fi refused to cooperate, and we could not video chat. Instead, we used our cell phones to have an actual conversation (seems like we use them for so many other things like texting or reading instead-I’m not alone in this, right?). Later that day, she emailed me pictures from her recent trip to Hiroshima with some classmates. One picture in particular- the Peace Bell in Hiroshima Peace Park stood out to me.

This bell designed by Masahiko Katori in 1964 displays a world without national borders embossed on the front.  The wooden beam strikes the atomic energy symbol carved on the bell, representing the end of nuclear weapons. Because each strike represents a message of peace to be heard in every heart around the world, there is also a mirror that reflects the person (their heart) ringing the bell. Inspiration for Yuriko’s words at the New Year celebration in THE LAST CHERRY BLOSSOM, “But with each bong I sat wishing, Peace, peace, peace…”

Looking at that picture of Sara striking the Peace Bell with love in her heart for my Mom, the family members we lost, and all the victims touched my heart and gave me such a feeling of connection-like a warm hug from my daughter and my Mom.

Perhaps another reason this Mother’s Day snuck up on me is that I’m recovering from a surgical procedure. Turns out, having your Ilial vein constricted by your Ilial artery in your pelvis, is actually a thing. It’s called May-Thurner Syndrome.  Unfortunately, the angioplasty done last week, isn’t working as the doctor had hoped. So now the next plan is to put a stent in that vein in June.  It’s not an urgent matter, just means more time with the extra pain,swelling, and my foot turning a lovely shade of sea green(but, maybe an excuse to buy more clothes that will match it, yeah? 🙂 )  I haven’t exactly gotten past the frustration and disappointment about needing the stent, yet. It will probably take one more round of crispy rice treats…

However, I have an upcoming event that I’m looking forward to speaking at- Animazement in Raleigh on May 25 and 26^th (which, if my husband is reading this post-is our 27th wedding anniversary weekend-just sayin’). Attending the event has been in the planning stages for several months and I’m honored that they invited me. Plus, waiting a few weeks until June, will give my body time to heal at the incision spot. I always fear that the RSD burning pain will develop at an incision site. But, so far so good and I hope that with some time in between to heal, it will be the same after the stent procedure.

Because of these recent events, I did not get cards out. So, I would like to say that I’m so very grateful for all the women in my life who have been(but are no longer here) and are like another mother to me now. I’m forever grateful that I had so many wonderful years celebrating my Mom on Mother’s Day with her and that I’m blessed with a loving daughter to celebrate Mother’s Day with me-even if this year it’s from the other side of the world with the striking of a bell.

Wishing all Mom’s and people who are “like a mother” to someone they love, a belated, yet a very Happy Mother’s Day along with a warm hug! ❤

 

Also sharing this post at: