Epilogue

Reading this made me remember the memorial service for Sabs' father earlier this year. And various parts make me think of my own father, especially just looking at the history of Korea in the last 50 years. Though my father is probably about 15 years younger than theirs, they fled North Korea around the same time, probably came to America around the same time...had entirely different careers but perhaps many of the same struggles and sufferings. It really makes me appreciate the resilience and drive of our people, at times, just to survive. I can see why we hold so strong to our identity - because there was so much history where it could have been lost and we stubbornly hung on. I say "we" as though I lived through those times - my parents were barely born then. But even today, in American society - sometimes it's a struggle to hold onto it, to embrace it.

As they described their father, I could remember, when I would come down to practice, he would be sitting on the side, watching. And it's true, I don't think I've ever heard him speak. But he was always there, watching fondly, picking up after Derek and Dylan and even Milan. Proud.

During the latest meltdown, S Sr extracted one of the main sources of stress on my mind - that by moving to NYC and pursuing what was important to me, I was living with the grief of disappointing my parents. A typical source of Asian trauma in our sacrificial, community-centered society. I don't have the job, the status, the security that I "should" have had.

And he said this: "if my brother and I did everything that our parents told us to do, we wouldn't be half the men we are today".

It's true. Not that we should disobey your parents because their age and experience far outweigh our shortsighted will. And no matter how individualistic American culture may be, I'll never be disconnected from them. However, it's encouraging to see that the result of their "disobedience" in following their dreams resulted in a source of pride, joy, and in a way, healing.

I hope that one day, my dad will walk around my dojang, tying belts on little kids and greeting people at the door. That my mom would give some kid raisins and tell her to put it in her bag for later if she got hungry, scrape her off the floor and massage her legs when she went flying across the room crying in a dead heap after sparring, and hold her hand while they talked.

In memory of Won Yung Whang.

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Epilogue

"Thank You Dad" was written in 2000. In May 2004, our father Mr. Won Yung Whang passed away. For the last 18 years of his life, our father lived with the debilitating effects of a stroke he suffered in 1986, which initially left him paralyzed on his right side. The stroke was stress-induced, the result of a perfect storm of financial and personal challenges that came together and boiled over that year. Although he eventually recovered his physical functioning, he never recovered his speech.

When my brother and I opened West Side Taekwondo in 1992, we could never have anticipated one side benefit that would become a source of great pride for both of us. The frustrations of living with the effects of his stroke had left my father listless, unsocial, and inactive, and that's how he was in 1992. Soon after we opened the school, our father began to come to the school to visit. A trickle of visits became, within a few months, his "job". He started coming to the dojang every day, and soon became a fixture. He would wordlessly greet the children and receive their greetings, help them tie their belts, share a quiet meal with Mr. Lim, and to make himself otherwise useful. Six days a week, coming to the dojang became the most important part of his life, so much so that he hated leaving New York. On one occasion, my sister had to literally "kidnap" him under false pretenses (telling him that she was just driving him home to Queens) to drive him and my mother up to Boston to spend a holiday. I think he was forever suspicious of rides in my sister's car after that day!

My brother and I would mostly see him on Saturdays, since his "day" would be over in the early evening, once the children went home, and before my brother and I would show up to teach the adult classes at night. For Derek and Dylan, Saturday with Grandfather became a routine, one that I'm sure he enjoyed and looked forward to as much as they did. Whenever I saw him at the school, observing classes, watching promotion tests, I could see his pure joy of being amongst the students, the family at West Side, and how proud he felt that his sons had created this institution.

I said in my essay that my brother and I are grateful to my Dad for having given us the gift of Taekwondo. In turn, the art that has brought us so much joy and learning and friendship and passion, allowed us to give our father back a gift, one that gave him a wonderful reason to keep on living every day.

We relocated to our current location at 99th Street and Amsterdam Avenue at the end of April, 2004. We are grateful that our father was able to see the new dojang just before his passing; he was so pleased at how new everything was, and how enthusiastic everyone was about this new beginning. He no longer greets students as they come in, but for me, our dojang, wherever it might be, will forever be etched with the spirit and memory of students coming to take class, bowing to my father, and my father, smiling back and shaking their hands.

Our father was born to humble parents in the humblest of countries in a time that might as well have been the middle ages. He lived through the national humiliation of Japanese occupation of his homeland, where Koreans were second-class citizens in their own land. He lived through the euphoria of liberation from Japan, only to see Korea become a pawn in the global cold war. Seeing where North Korea was headed ideologically, he escaped from his home in what is now North Korea in his early 20's, never to see his family again. He lived and fought through the brutality of brother killing brother in the Korean War. He served as a military officer after graduation from the prestigious Korean Military Academy, while simultaneously working on a civilian degree from Kyung Hee University. After he war, he was admitted to the Korean Foreign Ministry, and served in the first Korean Embassy in Tokyo. His career took him on to Manila (Philippines), Buenos Aires (Argentina), Osaka (Japan) and Fukuoka (Japan). In 1981, he was unceremoniously cast aside by the government he had served for 25 years .

To our father, who faithfully served God and his country, first as a military officer, then as a seasoned diplomat, becoming, along the way, a sophisticated world traveller, and then chose the hardship of life as a first generation American immigrant in order to be with his children, we say, you lived an amazing and brave life. May your courage, and the pureness of your spirit always be a guide to your sons.

Thank You Dad.