It has been four years since you passed to the West. I miss you very much even though I only saw you for a few years of my life. I know (through my memories and my mother’s stories) that you were stern because you cared for us, and you still retained a humor for life. I’m trying my hardest to learn our land’s language and keep my ties to our culture.
I remember one thing in particular. You had given me a bit of money to save, and I was so excited I ran straight to my mom and told her all about it. She asked, “Did you thank her?” I was so embarassed and intimidated by you that my mom had to push me to come and face you. I held out the money in both my hands and bowed, mumbling “감사합니다, 할머니.” You bopped my head and I looked up with tears in my eyes. You tried to keep a straight face as I left, ashamed that I had forgotten such simple etiquette.
I have pictures of you, finally! I found them on a whim the other night at my mom’s house. One of you poking your finger into the nose of a giant statue on 제주 island and another where you were looking off into the distance and me as a child behind you on a tree branch. I’m going to look for some frames for them so I can give you a proper place.
We love you. Please look out for us (especially my brother, one of your grandsons). Our home is now broken, but I think my mom is a little happier away from that house. She misses you more than anything.