On Life And Death

January 21, 2025
5:10 PM

At the time of writing, my grandpa is currently on life support fighting for his life. I used to visit him regularly when I was younger. However, since I left Korea 24 years ago, I've only seen him on two occasions. This letter is a recollection of my relationship with him.

When I came to Canada at age 8, I stopped learning Korean to focus on learning English and adapting to the culture. As a result, the two times I saw my grandpa, my conversations with him reflected those of my 8-year-old self. I didn't get to ask him about his life experiences or what he had learned over his lifetime; I only exchanged formalities.

With every interaction with him, this language barrier has only distanced me from him. While I knew he loved me because of how his face lit up when he saw me, what I felt with my grandpa was awkwardness, embarrassment, and shame from the fact I couldn't have the conversations I wanted with him. As a Korean, I felt, at the very least, I should know how to talk to my grandfather.

A couple of days ago, my recently retired father spent his life savings to fly across the world to see my grandpa one last time before he passed away. In his words, he felt my grandpa was waiting to see him one last time before he could leave this world in peace. As the eldest son, he felt responsible for being there for my grandpa in his final moments.

Now, I sit here crying in front of my computer alone. I don't know what to make of this situation or what to learn. I don't feel regret. I'm learning to be with how beautiful it is to have gotten to know him and how tragic it is that I probably won't be able to make any more memories with him even if they are awkward, embarrassing, and shameful for me.

It's neither easy to be with the uncertainty of life nor to be with the finality of death. In the face of death, I suppose the insignificant things fade away because the only thing I can feel when I think about him now is the smile on his face each time he looked at me. When I was busy avoiding my own fears, he was busy trying to show his love for me.

Grandpa, I don't know if you'll get to read this, but I want to take this moment to thank you—not just for allowing me to experience this life but for inspiring a sense of responsibility in me to make something of it. I'm sorry I didn't receive your love when you gave it to me, but thank you for giving it to me anyway. I will do my best to share your love with others for as long as I live.

6:03 PM
Chris X

P.S.
I know I didn't become a police officer like you wanted me to be, I didn't start a family like you asked of me, and I didn't even get the high-paying job you wanted me to have, but all I can give right now is this letter, and I hope it's enough.

P.P.S.
My grandpa lived through the Korean War and I'm sure he had many stories about how hard his life was, but this is one of the only stories I heard from him.

In high school one day, he read in an English textbook, "I wake up at 6:00 AM." He didn't know people in other parts of the world woke up so early before then. So, from that day on, he has woken up at 6:00 AM ever since.