Secret Keeping Sakura – Chapter 9

MIEKO

If Mom had secrets she didn’t want me to know, then there’s nothing I can do about that now. She should have buried them in the backyard, and she would have if they were that shameful.

I stand over the desk, turning the key in my hand over and over. What if she hid these from me because she was trying to protect me? Hmmm.

I sit in the chair, my hand hovering over the lock.

Do it, Mieko.

I slip the key in, turn the lock, and open the drawer, sucking in a quick breath.

I’m not sure what I expected, a dead body or something? Instead, I find a few folders with documents and a tattered teddy bear I don’t recognize. Lifting the bear from the drawer, I set it on the desk and flip it over, hoping for some clue why my mom kept it. But it seems ordinary enough. The fur is well-loved but not gross like kids’ toys can be.

I pull out a manila envelope and my eyes zoom in on the top paper, the word “divorce” jumping off the page at me. My hands shake as I drag my finger down the listed statements. Mom was married to someone else! Someone other than my father! She divorced him in 1975, and she married my father in 1976. I was born four years later. Wow. I had no idea. I repeat his name over and over in my head, and it doesn’t sound familiar. She must have cut ties to him when she remarried.

I try to swallow in a dry throat, and I rub my eyes. Is this what she was ashamed of? If so, she could have burned these papers and never thought of them again. It’s not as if this man or his family meant anything to us. We received no help from them throughout the years, even though we struggled. She could have told me. It wouldn’t have changed anything.

I flip through the few other pieces of paper in the folder and find more documents about the divorce, affidavits of marital troubles and infidelity on her husband’s side. I begin to sweat wondering what she went through. I set the folder aside and blindly reach into the drawer for the second folder, believing I’ve already found the secret which Mom wanted to hide, so what else could there be?

A death certificate. For a little boy born in 1973. The document lists my mother’s name as his mother and her first husband’s name as the father. She wasn’t but twenty years old when this boy was born. I had a brother, a half-brother! My eyes skip over the formal declarations and land on the date of death, 1974. He was only a year old. Cause of death, drowning.

I remember all the times Mom sat and watched me at swim practice, her eyes glued to me in the water, holding her breath if I swam under for long periods of time. She didn’t relax about swimming until I was a strong swimmer in my teens.

I reach out and touch the teddy bear, rubbing the warm fur between my fingers. Mom had a whole life with someone else, a family destroyed by a tragedy, and then she lived another life with me after Dad died. So much death for her, and yet, she celebrated life. She helped others live their lives in comfort, whether helping them get through school, the loss of a loved one, or eating one solid meal per day.

I wish she were here so I could hug her and tell her how important she was to me. We didn’t spend a whole ton of time together in the last few years, but I loved every one of those moments.

I shuffle through the rest of the drawer but find nothing else of consequence, just a few pieces of my earlier attempts at art and a copy of her teaching certificate. I stare at her name on the paper and remember the early days of my childhood when she worked two jobs and went to school to get that certificate. She studied at the local community college and landed her first substitute teacher job not long after being certified.

I wonder… I wonder if they still have that program.

Holding the teddy bear to my chest, I take the certificate outside and sit on the porch. The tree waits in silence.

“She had another life before me.” I rest the teddy bear on my knees and imagine my little half brother, probably just learning to walk when he drowned. Maybe in a tub? Outside? There were no details. “A tragic one.”

“Mieko, what if this is your turning point?”

I clutch the bear to my chest again.

“What if your mother dying now is a sign it’s time for you to do something different with your life?”

I groan and run my fingers through my hair. It’s as if this tree can see into my soul. It doesn’t know how many times I’ve left my job late at night, walked the streets of Osaka, and wondered what I was doing there, wondered what I was doing with my life.

Grief has weighed me down the past week, made me question everything. But yesterday and today, I saw a different life, the one my mother led in secret. It had purpose. It had love, laughter, and companionship. All things I lack.

“What are you thinking?” the tree asks, and I look at the teaching certificate again.

“I already have experience as a paralegal. I could put that to use as a teacher. Is that a horrible idea? Am I being too rash? I just lost my mom, and I’m thinking about upending my whole life.”

“Teaching would suit you. You’ve always loved learning.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I always loved social sciences and history. It’s something I miss with legal work.”

I set the stuffed bear and certificate next to me. The bear was her first life, cut short by death and divorce. Her second life with Dad was cut short by death. The certificate was her third life with me. So many lives, but so much richness too. She died having accomplished a lot.

I chew on my lip and stare at the cherry tree, waiting to hear from me. This was my first life, ended by the death of my mother.

My second life awaits on the other side of this decision.

What kind of new life will I live now?