Azumi's Story

P R E F A C E

P R E F A C E ...

"I love you, sweetie. I promise that I'll always be with you."

"No, mommy please don't say that. Daddy promised me, you promised me," I cried as my teary eyes bored into her dull, lifeless, hazel ones. The eyes that used to warm me from within, the same eyes that reassured me that everything was okay, not even two years ago seemed to have lost their golden twinkle.

It was a while before either of us said anything for a while. We both knew what was ahead of us. We all did, but no one wanted to admit it. I stared at her brittle, fragile body as a small tear fell against my cheek. I quickly wiped it away, not wanting her to see me cry. One of us had to be strong when she was physically unable to. Father had been encouraging me to be that way since we first found out about her illness.

"Azumi, I don't want you to ever forget who you are and what you stand for. And don't forget where you came from, no matter who tries to take that from you." my dying mother wheezed as I watched her deep huffs become soft raspy breathes as her small chest rapidly rises and falls. She lied there, her cold, delicate, sick body. I watched as she slowly closed her eyes, to began her cross into a never-ending slumber.

"I won't mommy, I promise." I said as I climbed into the small cot with her, cuddling her closely. She placed a small kiss along the borders of my dark auburn hair.

She heeved in a small exasperated sigh. She'd fought so hard and long only to die. I held her tighter as her breathes began to slowly cease. She hands strained to reach out to me, as she kissed my fingers and offered her final words.

"My lovely daughter," she said with a small smile. It didn't reach her eyes but I knew it was because she was so weak. "You are beautiful and amzing in every ways possible, someday you'll be someone very special. You'll be known to every in the world," She took in a small shallow breath before she continued," But unfortunately I won't be here to see you grow. Kami is calling me home, honey. I'm going to be leaving you soon," she said as she showered my face with soft loving kisses.

"I love you. And I'll always be with you." She placed another kiss, this time on my lips- I inhaled sharply as the shock flood through me. "Now, go make some tea and soup for myself and your father," she said with a small smile. She knew it was something I'd come to enjoy since she was first diagnosed, even before she would sometimes challenge me to cook something for her and we'd spend afternoons laughing about how bad it'd taste. I gave a smile back to her and hurriedly ran to the kitchen giggling.

As I began to run the water for the tea I watched my father walk out of the guess room pass what used to be his and mother's bedroom. The moment he'd found out about mother's illness, he began to act as if he no longer wanted us. He'd ignore us at dinner, whenever we would make an attempt to spend some family time together he'd come but wouldn't be an active participant in the activities.

At first I thought he was upset with himself becuase he hadn't noticed her changing eating habits or her constant insomnia, but that was quickly shot down after he refused to take hug me back when he'd came home from his travels to Japan. My four year old self didn't think much of it until I heard my mother and father arguing about his cruel treatment to me. It was at night after we'd all came home from my school play, humanities wasn't my father's favorite subject of liberal arts but I would have thought he'd been proud of me for getting over my stage fright.

Instead after the play was over, I ran to him for a hug but was quickly taken aback when he brushed me off and told me we needed to hurry home if we wanted to beat traffic. He ignored sharing the usual commentaries with other parents after the play about whose child was better or the conservational small talks with my teacher. After we got home instead of our rountine dinner where it'd be the three of us chatting about our day my father rushed quickly upstairs only seconds after he opened the door of our home. After my mother bathed me and tucked me in not even hours later I was awakened by the smashing of glass, the shrieking clanks of pot and pans, and the screech of my father's tire as he hurriedly fled the scene. I think I remember that day so clearly because it marked the beginning of his strange behavior.

A loud bang pulled me from my memory and I quickly composed myself. Initially I thought that it was father throwing another tantrum, but the haste patter of footsteps toward my mother's bedroom proved otherwise. 'Oh god, no,' my mind races as I immediately knew what was wrong, I wanted to run to make sure it wasn't what I tought it was but my feet feel like they had been wedged into wet cement. I was stuck! I tried to walk again and against my will I stood there, frozen in fear. I felt the tears welt but I still couldn't move. A series of screams erupted through the house, which quickly assured my suspicions. As fast as my legs would allow I rushed towards my mother's room, what would be waiting there I knew would make the lost much worst but I couldn't get myself to stop. When I enter the room, I didn't know that the scene that unfolded before my eyes would scar me for the rest of my life.