My name is Shigeo, and I am sitting under a majestic Sakura tree in my hometown of Hiroshima. I have come to visit my sister Toshika who has reluctantly agreed to meet with me, even though we have not seen each other for over 60 years. As I look up at the branches and blossoms, I have vague memories of this tree in the backyard of our ancestral home.
I wonder on the miracle of how our house escaped the atomic bomb dropped on Aug. 6, 1945 and yet here it is — like a sentinel on the hillside overlooking this beautiful, rebuilt city. I was four years old the last time I was here.
My parents and I and my two-year-old sister had come to Japan to visit my grandparents, uncles and aunts. We had a wonderful time visiting people, eating too much and my sister and I playing under this tree. But when it finally came time to leave, only three of us got on the ship.
Toshika was left behind to be raised by an older auntie who could not have children. Back home in Canada, I was not allowed to talk about her. My parents went on to have six more children and I was told to never mention our missing sister.
However, I promised myself that I would go find her when I grew up. Eventually, World War II broke out and I enlisted in the Canadian Army. I feared for the life of my sister and other family in Japan and used my military connections to ascertain that they were all alive and well.
It would not be until 1970 before I finally made it back to Japan for the World Expo. One of the first things .