It's often said that there is nothing greater in life than to love and be loved, but this axiom is rarely explained. Many of us confuse love as a fleeting emotion, but love is a deep and enduring commitment that has the power to transform lives. This true love story illustrates how reciprocated love offers a gentle path to healing by creating a shared world in which we feel supported, respected and understood. When we feel safe in love, we gain the courage to confront our past traumas and work towards inner peace.

Lloyd was kidnapped at age 4, during the dustbowl days of the Great Depression. He and his three brothers were forced into a boarding school for Indigenous children, hundreds of miles away from his home in Tulsa.

It happened after the first time he had ever defied his mother's wishes. Hot, salty tears rolled down his cheeks, as he ruminated her calling after him to come back and stay home, while his brothers went to queue for the soup line. During these long, searing days, when his brothers ran off to the dwindling swimming hole after lunch, he would choose to stay and assist his step-father in his arboretum business, all while his heart ached with unrequited love and the hope that he might finally receive a kind word or gesture from this gruff man. After a few months of helping with the dismal family business, he thought himself quite capable of bringing more soup back. He proudly considered himself as a contributing, family provider.

Lloyd knew the game well – distract them with his cuteness as his brothers broke the rules, just a little. As he got closer, he almost fell over from abruptly coming to a stop as he was nearly frozen, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. His heart began to pound in his chest, his jaw clenched and he started to shake; panic seeped in as he saw big, strange men punching and dragging his brothers away from the soup line, but what really scared him was that no one was trying to help; everyone was looking away! It was equally confusing and terrifying, as he couldn’t understand this chaotic scene. “Hey!” he shouted as he dropped the suddenly too heavy, and probably too dirty bucket he was hoping to fill with soup, but instead of concerned looks, one of the big men began walking towards him, quickly closing the distance between them with long, heavy strides while wearing a ragged, tobacco-stained smile.

He, his brothers and many others suffered horrific abuses at that school. Years later, WWII recruiters swept these schools for volunteers, and he did not hesitate to join the US Navy. Although he was 16, he just had to say he was 17 to enlist, for there were no records; it was the first school, which had their henchmen kidnap children, that had those records at one time, but the kids burned it down when he was 6.

Like many boarding schools sanctioned by the Bureau of Indian Affairs ("BIA"), the first school was a self-sufficient farm. The children were forced to work it, and hardly any time remained for education. The schools received monthly checks from the BIA for each native child they kept – that was the racket: securing monthly checks per child while they incurred no expenses, and they would go to criminal extremes to keep their revenue stream. There was no concern for the children nor for their futures; they were cash livestock. Despite these horrific and many gross abuses our government enabled, he chose to forgive and jumped at the opportunity to prove his patriotism and love for the people and our country.

Recruiting indigenous men was a boon for the US military, as most were well-developed farmhands, accustomed to hard labor. In stark contrast, many young non-indigenous American men who tried to volunteer were often malnourished and unfit for service; a quarter of the Caucasian recruits were deemed unfit due to their physical limitations from malnourishment, whereas nearly every native recruit was accepted. 99 percent of all healthy Indigenous men from age 21 to 44 had registered for the draft in 1942. My father often lamented how the military was his salvation.

She and her family fled Hiroshima by train when she was 8, after the pamphlets rained down – a harbinger of how the radioactive ash would fall in the days to come. It was the last time she saw her father, who was in the army. Before reaching their destination, their train was attacked by Allied forces and had derailed.

I only learned of this story from when her oncologist inquired about some odd, old scars that he noticed across her ribs; previously, she always said she was from Kyushu. This took place about a year before she died of a rare type of leukemia, in which they suspected was caused by radiation exposure – that's when she mesmerized us as she recounted the first time she had candy:

She was shot and crying. Her mother could not quiet her and all were in fear that the attackers may return. An older man gave her candy, and she said she never tasted anything so sweet and fruity – like a dozen juicy tangerines all at once – and it worked; she ignored her pain and focused on the sweetness.

Remarkably, she was able to tap into that one happy moment among all the grief – just after the last sight of her father, and just a few months before her oldest sister and mother perished from exposure to the fallout. They and other family members were with her grandmother, far away from cities, deep within the mountains. After the first atomic bomb dropped, her mother and oldest sister went back to search for her father and other family. My mother humbled us, and for a long time, we could only stand there, shocked in reverence. You could have heard a pin drop in that cold, sterile exam room. She closed her eyes and wore such a peaceful smile as she recounted her story, still recalling and relishing the taste of her first piece of candy, all while the world was about to end.

After two short marriages that were annulled, he had given up on relationships. Now enlisted in the US Air Force, which became a separate military branch after WWII, he was stationed in Japan. His friend was trying to get him to agree to a blind double-date for days, and finally Lloyd agreed with terms; he had never dated anyone outside of his Caucasian race – he would insist that he's Caucasian as he was desperate to separate himself from those awful abusive days in boarding school, where his only crime was being Cherokee; being that he was half Caucasian, the claim was somewhat believable. As he waited with his friend for their dates, he jokingly upped the payback that he'd need – it's now four packs of cigarettes: double the original. Then he saw her, and the world stopped.

Lloyd was stunned, when he first saw her. He realized that his mouth was agape, and he was just staring at her, frozen with the cigarette poised near his mouth. Suddenly, he caught himself and he felt heat begin to rise and flush his face. He felt so awkward and embarrassed by his tells, but he snapped out of it when he looked at his friend; oddly, he felt a stab of jealousy as his friend was also taken aback by this seemingly flawless doll. He couldn't imagine anyone more beautiful. He slowly began to realize that this must be love at first sight, about which he'd tease and mock whomever confessed such ridiculousness. In that moment, he knew he would love her for the rest of his life.

Although Kimiko spoke no English, her friend translated for them and she was greatly enjoying this wonderful distraction from her sorrows. Her family had arranged for her marriage, but he made her skin crawl. It was 1957. My mother was 20 and my father was 32 and thriving in his military career. That night, at the NCO Club on their first date, he asked her to marry him. She rejected the proposal, but there was something irresistible about him; she agreed to see him the next evening. They saw each other every day for the next week, and she let herself fall in love with him too. She never thought she could ever feel so carefree and be so happy. She agreed to marriage. She was resolute in accepting whatever her family may say. When she told them, they were devastated and immediately disowned her – as she had feared they would do. They could not believe she would ever consider marrying an American GI.

It didn't matter to her much, as she was furious with them for agreeing and arranging to give her away to such a lecherous man, regardless of his stature in Japan, but more importantly, she was very much in love with my father and now dreamed of marrying him.

They then learned of the US Military policy for marrying Japanese women that discouraged and effectively imposed a one year wait, in order to meet all the requirements of both US and Japanese background checks, and also for approvals from commanding officers. Their hearts and hopes were crushed. They had thought they could elope – as many GI's did with Caucasian wives, but racism was rife as interracial marriages were still illegal in the US. Pearl Harbor continued to be a battle-cry and scapegoat for hateful treatment and attitudes towards anyone of Japanese descent, and our military branches were not immune to bigotry. He was set for an assignment in the Philippines and had less than two months remaining in Japan. This decision to follow her heart would effectively render my mother homeless and alone.

My father was a highly decorated veteran. He volunteered for duty in WWII, Korea and two tours in Vietnam - where he received a purple heart. Despite the immense grief of losing her parents and the physical torment of surviving on raisin rations for over a year, my mother did not succumb to overwhelming despair. Never could she have imagined that the Japanese Imperial Family – the oldest family monarchy in the world – would surrender to gaijin. Before the reconstruction efforts that transformed Japan after WWII, there was no ability for a woman to survive in Japan without a husband or family, as there was no charity for anyone disowned by their family. She lauded MacArthur, studied our constitution, and marveled at the progress democracy rapidly ushered, instead of the stagnation that seemed to mire cultures steeped in traditions. She longed to call herself an American Citizen. Because of their love for each other, they were fearless together and lead a remarkable life. My mother realized her dream and further contributed to our country with two more souls for the next generation's pursuit of a more perfect Union.

May you have a good life