Dad, lung cancer took you too soon, but your spirit for life and your creativity live inside of me, always. I wish you were with me when I graduated from from architecture school, and could see the buildings and houses I help design. I remember watching you designing at your drafting table with templates in the shape of toilets, trees and swinging doors. Nowadays, it's all drawn by computers, and I cherish those templates – a reminder of days past, of you and the wonderful life you gave me. Missing you.
To my aunts, uncles, and cousins: I left Seoul, Korea, when I was two. When I returned as a teenager, the reunion was joyful, but we couldn't communicate easily. My parents translated in broken English, yet I yearned to tell you more about my life in America. I fear the day when my mother won't be around to connect us. Like a lost child's cry, where did you go? How will I reach you? Did you forget about me?
Dear Grandfather, we've never met. You passed away when my mother was young and even she doesn't remember much. But when I learned you were an artist, my heart swelled with joy and I felt an instant connection to you. Surely, you're the reason I love art. I longed for your acquaintance even more, wanting to see all your creations. In a sense, every time I draw a line, create a photograph or view a painting, you're by my side.
Dear Grandma, I'm sorry, but I don't remember you. We lived together for the first year of my life, along my older sister, while my parents and younger brother immigrated to California. We soon joined them in Los Angeles, but you were left behind and we never met again. I have these photos as a record, as proof that you cared for me, fed, clothed and played with me--memories of our short but essential times together.
Dear Grandfather and Uncle, you're mysteries to me. Grandfather, you passed away when my dad was only six-years-old. I know he was born in Japan during the Korean War and grew up in Korea, but he didn't talk about it much. Uncle, I found out about you later in my adult years--how is that possible? It makes me wonder about family dynamics and conflicts. What happened between you and my dad? Who and where are you? Do you know about me?
Dear Aunt #1 and #2: I'm sad that we never met. I'm sorry I don't even know your names. Your youngest sibling, my father, did not talk much about his childhood. Aunt #1, after the Korean War ended, you remained in Japan until your passing. I recently visited Tokyo and just knowing you were there made the trip more meaningful. Aunt #2, you're a mystery to me, why is that so? I only have this one photograph of you and no other information. I'd like to meet you--I hope you are happy.
Dear big sis, for the first 35 years of my life, you were there--playing together as kids; fighting, as teenagers do, over clothing; and as adults, celebrating many holidays in your home. But after having your own kids, you packed up your family and started anew in New Zealand. I was happy for you, but a void had been created--gone are happy hours together on warm summer nights; no more birthday parties and babysitting; my lovely niece and nephews growing, out of sight. The times I've visited have been glorious, but each time I leave...
Mom, you found a way to live your life after dad passed away. After 29 years of marriage and a year-long battle with lung cancer, you managed to graciously continue on. You found faith and community in religion, continued to cook everyday from scratch, and now vigorously enter into your retirement years. I adore these early photos of you and dad--a time when you found each other and began adventures with hope and love.