December 7, 2018

When I was 9 years old, I came to America by myself on a student visa to learn English. My parents and brother were still in Korea, so my grandparents, who moved to Southern California in late 70s to help raise my cousins, took me in and raised me for a year. I loved my grandparents. My grandpa drove me to school everyday in his old Corolla (he loved Japan and Japanese culture), took me to the mall every weekend and bought me clothes and toys, let me spend evenings watching TV on his lap after grandma’s home cooked dinner. It was nothing special or fancy, but I loved my grandparents and loved spending time with them.
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My grandfather passed away in his sleep last night. He was in his 90s, growing weak and miserable at his old age and health complications. I used to love visiting him at any chance I had at his home, but at some point, dreaded going because seeing him so depressed made me feel downhearted. I wished I could have done something, but I knew there was nothing I can really do. But now he can rest.

Rest In Peace Grandpa. I’m so heartbroken I didn’t get to see you one last time. Thank you for raising me, taking care of me, being unafraid of living in a foreign country to support your children and grandchildren. There were moments when I was so resentful for some of your actions that I’d rather not dredge up, but I just want to say that I forgive you.