By: Indra Thadani
Yoko Thadani in 1956 with her daughter Indra
Mother, there are moments I cannot remember but still hold in my heart. I’m sure my three-year-old hand held yours many times on the ship from Yokohama, Japan to San Francisco. My father wanted a “better” life for us and sent you and me on a journey to this new country while he conducted business in Japan.
I’m sure I had delicious Japanese food and spoke to you in Japanese at that time. Those were the days when I went to the bilingual school near Japantown. This was before I turned five and we moved to Cole Street, and I had to go to an American school where no one spoke Japanese.
I remember the lemon meringue pies you used to make because we had so many leftover packages from closing that grocery store you and dad fought about. You would bake yummy, moist yellow or chocolate cake, sometimes decorated with sprinkles, so I could have a piece after school. Making food was how you showed your affection and love! It was the 1960s then, and I remember teaching you dance moves and watching you fix your hair in that ratted-up, poof style.
Then you left for Japan. I’m still not sure why you left—perhaps because of visa issues—but my life changed afterward. I got into trouble for shoplifting clothes. I was seeking attention and wanted to do daring and exciting things to see what I could get away with.
When you returned to America, Dad’s infidelity had finally pushed you to find your own happiness outside our family with a man from Okinawa. Dad had been unfaithful many times, but it hurt you the most when he slept with your sister while she was staying with us. You had been pregnant with my sister at the time.
When you divorced him, he kidnapped my younger sisters and me.
I remember the day my sisters and I stood by the ocean liner to wish him farewell. I became suspicious when I saw that our half-brother had packed so many suitcases. I confronted my father after seeing that they contained our toys. He said that he was taking us with him because you had deserted us and were an unfit mother. I don’t remember how I felt then—perhaps Dad’s comments put a stone on my heart. We did not see or make contact with you for three years while we were in Japan and later in India with him. I do not remember thinking about you or missing you.
After Dad’s death in India, I returned to America because you found a sponsor family who let me live with them. We saw each other sporadically over the years. I know your husband could not take care of your daughters so we stayed with American families who often did not understand us, personally or culturally. You cared for us through homemade California rolls, futomaki, tempura, gifts and money that you sent to us.
It was during that time that I began to put on weight as a teen. I hated my body, and you amplified my feelings by the shame you displayed about my weight gain. You did not know it then, but an older cousin in India had molested me and it put another stone on my heart. It would take me years to recover. In fact I’m still recovering as I reach 60. I remember that when I told you, 30 years after it happened. You became very angry with my father who you felt was responsible for letting this happen.
Back then, I dealt with the pain through drugs and food. I remember you visited one morning after I had been up all night free-basing cocaine. You were compassionate. Somehow it seemed like you understood my pain.
I know you experienced your own trauma—a fatherless childhood, surviving World War II—that led you on journey like mine. I know what attracted you to our father, a man from India with a warm spirit but also a dark side that collided with your own.
Since your stroke three years ago, I have seen you cry and ask for forgiveness from your three daughters. I know without a doubt that had you been given the love and support that you needed while you were growing up, you would have been a different mother to us. I know now that your daughters are loving, accomplished women because you never stop thinking about us, though you may have not been there physically. That spiritual connection was always deep. I truly forgive you as you lay down your heart. And I continue praying that you move towards light and love.
About the Author: Indra Thadani has received more than 30 awards for service, education and innovation, she is most proud of keeping her family together and raising a loving and worldly African American son! Indra is grateful for her masters’ education at UCSF which prepared her for leadership in health care, especially for the underserved!
