My family is not often one for grand gestures or words of affirmation. Instead, we speak through acts of service, and of all of us, my father’s tireless commitment to our family’s wellbeing rings loudest.
I wrote most of the below post 6 years ago as a thank you letter to my dad. I was nearing the end of my time in university and felt that I hadn’t properly expressed what an instrumental role he played in shaping my ambitions and worldview. I found myself revisiting it on this Father’s Day, and I wanted to add onto it because his lessons continue to drive me.
Thank you for being our family’s heart and soul. I love you.
When I was around 12 years old, a friend of mine asked me why my father wasn’t around much. She found it curious that we didn’t have dinner together as a family. At the time, I didn’t think too much about it and answered, “Oh, he’s just at work.” Looking back, I think she assumed we weren’t a very close family, or that like many other Asian American immigrants, my father remained abroad while supporting his family in the States. The truth was that I was so accustomed to not seeing my dad at dinner that it didn’t occur to me that most of my friends came together for dinner with their families at the end of their days.
As a small business owner from South Korea, my dad is the embodiment of the (problematic yet beautifully optimistic) American dream. He moved our family to the States over twenty years ago in hopes of greater financial success and a better education for my sister and me. To say that my father worked hard to secure such a future would be a gross understatement — for as long as I can remember, he got up at 8am, left for work half an hour later with a haphazard breakfast in hand, and came home regularly more than twelve hours later. He did this every day, including weekends, and continues to do so.
We didn’t have dinner as a family because he worked a lot. Instead, I associated Dad with a different routine. Despite the long days, he never failed to stop by my room at the end of the day to share what he achieved that day and to dole out sage advice. As a kid, I failed to recognize the significance of my father’s dedication to take time at the end of his long day to offer guidance or reiterate a new life lesson. I regret that I often met these moments with adolescent petulance. Truthfully, I oftentimes dreaded our talks — his advice felt contrite and I couldn’t understand how his perspective would guide me through my teenage problems of growing up a 1.5 generation girl in America. So I tuned him out. I didn’t even try to hide my agitation when he knocked on my door or sat beside me in front of the TV.
Thankfully, growing older has its benefits, and I’ve come to notice how all of my dad’s nuggets of wisdom have served me well in school, in career, and in love and life. I remember how he’d try so hard to say them in English in hopes that I might internalize them better — things like “stay curious, even when a formal education ends because learning is a lifelong process,” “work hard, but work smart because time is precious and there’s no excuse in wasting it,” and one of my favorites: “be brave and generous with your heart because no one ever became less happy from helping another human being.” My dad was a well of knowledge with life lessons hard won from years of striving. Among all of them, the one that continues to stick with me most is not one he told me but one I saw in action time and time again.
You see, my dad never stops working. Years ago when the Great Recession hit, my dad was forced to scale back his company and experience a dramatic decrease in profits. The economic downturn was hard for all families, and we were no exception. Family vacations, carefree backyard barbecues, and flashy holiday gifts became things of the past and were replaced with worried arguments between my parents and envelopes in the mail stamped with scary labels like “overdue” or “final notice.” In the last twenty years, I can count on my fingers the number of times my dad took a day off. He was maniacally focused on supporting our family, and my sister and my education and extracurriculars. For years, I saw my dad grow greyer, older, and more tired than his age would suggest, yet the man never failed to wish me 화이팅 (hwaiting!) almost daily.
화이팅 is the Korean word for “fighting” and commonly used as a form of encouragement or cheer. It’s the word that sums up how he finds the strength to just keep moving forward. Because above all, my dad embodies resilience. He began a new life in a new country on his own, faced soaring success and crushing setbacks, yet remains optimistic and continues to fight for prosperity, not for himself but for those he loves. He endures failure but doesn’t allow it to distract him from achieving happiness, and he serves as a pillar for our family and friends with no ulterior expectations. For all these reasons and more, I no longer roll my eyes or sigh with impudent impatience at the prospect of our talks. Earlier this year, my family came to visit me in San Francisco. My mother had to buy a un-refundable plane ticket in secret as a way to force my dad to take several days off. It was his first real vacation in seventeen years, and he came to see me. You bet I listened to every word of his stories with humble enthusiasm, in awe of the incredible man I am lucky to call Dad.
