My grandfather

passed away this morning. As all my relatives have informed me, it was a very peaceful passing. No struggle, no fear.

My grandfather was a pastor for a majority of his life. First as a military chaplain... then, at small churches in Korea... then at Oregon... then at California.

For as long as I knew him, he was a man of few words, even few gestures. When I was young, I thought him to be austere and unapproachable. My "fondest" memory of him as a kid is of the companionable silence we shared whenever he occasionally picked me up in his light brown Oldsmobile from school or to a violin lesson. I remember that grandpa always picked the skin on his toes. My grandfather's toes were NASTY. He also liked to suck on these tiny little mints that looked like miniscule steel balls. They reeked. Often times, he'd be doing both as he watched the latest Hong Kong kong fu series. As I recall, observing these dramas was his absolute favorite hobby.

When I was in high school, my family members and I held our breaths as we prepared for grandpa's death. He was at the ICU after a sudden bout with tuberculosis. He had already undergone his first open heart surgery a few days ago, and now he had to undergo another critical surgery on his neck. The doctors had told us to say our goodbyes. As we gathered around his bedside, I remember we started singing his favorite hymn. Although one by one, we stopped to gather our tears, the singing never once fully stopped. When we finished, my grandpa gasped for air and wheezed out, "I am afraid to die."

As constant as he had always been in his walk with God, he was afraid to die. None of us could say a single word.

He didn't die. Not then. He survived the surgery, recovered at a miraculous pace. Traveled to Brazil and Korea, before finally settling in his senior residence with grandma.

The past couple of times I saw him, I was mature enough, to understand his style of communication. My grandfather and I shared a same sense of sassy, witty (or I'd like to think) humor. I would crack sarcastic jokes about me, or my dad and to my pleasant surprise, Grandpa would chuckle and laugh. He would ask me how I was doing in LA. I would tell him, "oh, the same old." And he would always express his wishes (prophetic, perhaps?) for me to become the professor he always saw me becoming. Then, he would look at me with a knowing look and ask, "So, when are you bringing home a boyfriend?"

The very last time I saw him was over Chooseok, last month. On an impulse, I drove up to see my family. As my Dad, Mom, Grandma, Grandpa and I shared what would be our final meal together, I was able to share, confidently, the work God had been doing through me. How on fire I was for the Lord. How they didn't need to worry about my faith, for God had been taking plenty of initiative. My grandpa chuckled again. That was our last conversation together before I said my goodbyes and promised to see them again soon.

I guess, I never really got to know my grandfather intimately. I don't know the details of his childhood. I don't know how and when he received the calling to be a pastor. I don't know what his relationship with my Dad was like... what it was to be a father of 4... immigrating to the states... retiring, undergoing, fearing, and overcoming the outstretched fingers of death.

But I DO know that he was God's faithful servant. He touched the lives of countless number of people in the military and in a vast foreign land that was not his own. Out of his 4 children, 4 are all involved in ministry, struggling as they are. He was constant as constant could be. For his church. For his family. And he went to the LORD, not in fear or anxiety, but in PEACE, having completed God's will for His kingdom. We may have shared but a few words. But those words were as genuine, connected, and purposeful as I'd ever known words to be.

Last night, as I was sleeping... I went through what Koreans call "Kahweeh" (direct translation: scissors). I struggled through the process of fear, panic, struggle, determination, and victory, as I cried out, "In Jesus name, I cast the ENEMY out!" I woke up, feeling disgruntled, and puzzled over why I had gone through that experience. Now, I realize... of course, the enemy is psyched out. scaredddddd pantyless.

Afterall, a 5-star general has just joined heaven's army. I'd be scared too. Wouldn't you?

I will miss you Harahbuhjeeh. I can't wait to see and hear you laugh at my jokes again. Avidazen.