I came back to LA on Thursday and had to drive up to Palo Alto the day after (my dad wanted to go to the Family Weekend at Stanford and visit his youngest granddaughter), and I am exhausted and couldn’t work on anything.
Oops, I wasn’t done! The fact that he saw you, knew you, and that you came to see him so shortly before his death was likely a true blessing for both of you, and worthy of tears. I have always been an easy weeper, inheritor learned from both my parents but especially my father. It’s something I have had to accept gracefully all my life, and am glad I was able to gift it to both my girls as well as their children. I have come to realize that shedding tears in public just makes me more human, and it’s actually a comfort both to me, and often to others. We are an emotional species.
I've been noticing that as I get older, I get emotional more frequently. But it's okay, I don't really mind it.
When my uncle flew in from Seoul with his ashes, there was that special connection that no one else knows about because it turned out that I was the last person my grandfather saw and recognized.
What an authentic and sensitive remembrance. It makes me remember the last time (and maybe the first time) I hugged my father with deep affection before he passed away. And my mom, who passed away at 103, was so far away and because it was during Covid I could not go to visit her by plane. I am suddenly recollecting a few more end of life stories that I have myself experienced, and as Sandi has commented, I will carry them with me forever. I also carry a few of my father's and grandfather's gruffer moments in my heart memory. 다시 한번, 당신이 관심을 갖는 것들에 대해 글을 써주셔서 감사합니다.
I visited him expecting absolutely nothing. Then when it was apparent that he recognized me instantly--despite having heard that he recognizes no one, not his sons or daughters--it hit differently. When I heard of his passing right after I got back home, it was a strange feeling that I was actually at peace with the news.
It’s a personal memory that I am glad you shared. Please don’t delete it!
Oops, I wasn’t done! The fact that he saw you, knew you, and that you came to see him so shortly before his death was likely a true blessing for both of you, and worthy of tears. I have always been an easy weeper, inheritor learned from both my parents but especially my father. It’s something I have had to accept gracefully all my life, and am glad I was able to gift it to both my girls as well as their children. I have come to realize that shedding tears in public just makes me more human, and it’s actually a comfort both to me, and often to others. We are an emotional species.
I've been noticing that as I get older, I get emotional more frequently. But it's okay, I don't really mind it.
When my uncle flew in from Seoul with his ashes, there was that special connection that no one else knows about because it turned out that I was the last person my grandfather saw and recognized.
And that special connection will stay with you forever. 🥰
What an authentic and sensitive remembrance. It makes me remember the last time (and maybe the first time) I hugged my father with deep affection before he passed away. And my mom, who passed away at 103, was so far away and because it was during Covid I could not go to visit her by plane. I am suddenly recollecting a few more end of life stories that I have myself experienced, and as Sandi has commented, I will carry them with me forever. I also carry a few of my father's and grandfather's gruffer moments in my heart memory. 다시 한번, 당신이 관심을 갖는 것들에 대해 글을 써주셔서 감사합니다.
I visited him expecting absolutely nothing. Then when it was apparent that he recognized me instantly--despite having heard that he recognizes no one, not his sons or daughters--it hit differently. When I heard of his passing right after I got back home, it was a strange feeling that I was actually at peace with the news.
It's kind of a scary blessing to find a "duty visit" to be one you will carry with you forever.
I'm glad your children's grandfather is an antithesis of your own. Their stories—and yours—will inspire.
I certainly hope so. Good and bad, those memories will be with me forever.