somewhere over the rainbow

Christmas 2012 in Weatherford, Texas

In seventy-nine days, I'm going to marry my best friend, Jeremiah Bigley. We've been together for four years, and despite the roller-coaster of a relationship we've had, here we are. Here we are.

I think I've always known that I'd marry JJ. It was easy falling in love with his reassuring warmth and unconditional love, and I can't say that about a lot of people. There is another thing I've always known; I've always known that my grandfather would walk me down the aisle, on one of the biggest days of my life.

Exactly one month before my birthday, January 27th of this year, my grandfather, Joseph Sang-Sun Chong, passed away at the age of seventy-six. He had been battling lung cancer for months and his condition only worsened with pneumonia.

Meeting with vendors and wedding planning, in general, has proven to be more difficult than I imagined. I can barely hold back the tears at the thought of him being gone forever on a day-to-day basis, and I just can't imagine how I am supposed to compose myself on my wedding day. As I try to find the words to write this, tears keep raining down.

My grandfather was a man of very few words, but his legacy is mostly defined by his actions. My parents separated, then divorced, so my grandparents took to raising me and my sister — pretty much our entire lives. My grandfather never raised his hand or voice, instead he taught us how to use roller-blades and ride our first bikes. He was that kind of man. He took me to the park on most days, but our favorite pastime was hiking at Whiting Ranch, right behind my aunt's house.

When I was little I couldn't pronounce ha-da-buh-jee ("grandfather" in Korean), so I called him "hachi." He would tease me back and say, "hachi hachi hachi." If I napped long, he would call me Sleeping Ugly. He rarely showed that playful spirit to anyone else, so I feel blessed to have experienced such silliness with him. 

Always putting family first, my grandfather instilled in his children and grandchildren the value of unconditional love. He always carried a sense of calm around him, even during heartache and pain. I hope that during this time of grief, I too can learn to be calm and graceful like my grandfather. My grandfather was also a man of perseverance. On our treasured hikes, after a mile or two, I would get tired and hungry, and I would beg him to take us back home. However, he said that his goal was to make the four mile mark, and truth be told, he was a very stubborn man. He made me walk the 4 miles with him and it was dark by the time we made it back home. I remember watching the sun set with him, and thinking that the trials of our little hike were worth the beauty of that moment. The beautiful colors of gold, red, and purple looked majestic and mesmerized the both of us.

This journey and experience is painful and difficult, but in the end, I have learned to appreciate my grandfather's life. I have learned to step back and appreciate the way my grandfather has colored the lives of so many with kindness, generosity, patience, and unconditional love. His life is faceted with moments of happiness and purpose. From the time he taught his grandchildren to ride their first bikes and the time he recently celebrated his 50th anniversary with my grandmother, his time with us was worth every single trial and tribulation.

My grandfather was someone who had silver in his hair and gold in his heart. May he rest in peace, my hachi. 

Love,

J

The first time I saw him, after finding out about the cancer.

Rollerblading like a boss.

Another favorite pastime.

In Hawaii, or as I like to think, somewhere over the rainbow.

Celebrating their anniversary.

The happy couple in Korea.