Thousands of years ago in Korea, an
ancestor dreamed of eight tortoises,
which was the premonition for the birth
of eight sons to be born and carry out a
long family line. This was the story I
first heard when I met my boyfriend
Abraham's family.
Abraham is Korean-American and he'd
probably heard the story a thousand
times that it had become boring. But to
me, I was a Korean adoptee and I was in
awe. You see, as a Korean adoptee, I was
raised in America since I was four
months old and my connection to America
and my family was through the American
Revolution and my only connection to
Korea were through history books. But for
my boyfriend Abraham, he was connected
to Korea through this living history. You
see, he was actually the chon son in his
family, or the eldest grandson of the
eldest son. And he would carry out the
long family line. And I knew that someday
I would have to meet his family.
I would have to meet his grandparents
who were the eldest of this long family line.
But I also knew for me that I was
on my own search to find how I connect
to Korea. What is my identity and what is
my heritage? And so I decided that year
that I would go to Korea for about a
year and I would learn Korean and I
would reconnect and find these answers.
And I had been there for about three
months when I received a phone call from
Abraham. And he said, "You have to meet my
grandparents." His grandparents were both
in their 80s and their health was
dwindling and his grandfather, especially.
His harabeoji had advancing dementia
and it was his final wish to
see his chon son's marry. So I had to
see them.
I had no choice. I wanted to
receive their blessing and I wanted to
connect with them. And so before I set up
the appointment to go see them, I had
heard one request and that was to send a
photo. The first step was to
win halmeoni, or his grandmother's,
approval because halmeoni had the
sight or nunchi, which is the ability
to see into a person's character through
a single photo.
And he said, "Quick! Send me your best photo!"
In this photo, I had to
appear strong and healthy and maybe just
a little bit taller. And we sent the
photo and all the while I'm worrying
because this could determine our relationship.
Would we stay together?
Would it be compromised?
And I worried about this internal fear, too.
And that was, was I bucho kale or was I not
enough? Would she know that I wasn't
really Korean? And so the time came to
prepare to meet them. And before I could
meet them, I needed to learn one simple
etiquette. One simple one for every
Korean. And that was to bow, to bow deeply down to
the ground. It's something that's done
for an elder to show your greatest
respect, something that I didn't know how
to do. And so without Abraham there,
without family, without really knowing
this culture, I used our greatest
resource. And that was YouTube.
And I practiced YouTube for several days.
And although it was never gonna
get perfect, I was never going to be able
to bow perfectly, it was time. And I
traveled to the edge of Seoul to visit
them and at first, I had imagined that I
would arrive at a palace where I would
have to walk a great distance being
escorted over to bow before them. And in
reality, when I arrived, it was a small
apartment with a leather sofa, a
big-screen TV. And I heard a shriek
from the side and it was a shriek of
joy filled with energy and it was his
grandmother or halmeoni. And halmeoni came
running toward me, throwing her walker
aside with wobbly knees, with open arms,
and she grabbed me. And I stood there
frozen for a minute and I hugged her
back because I didn't really have a
choice. And all the while I'm thinking,
"Is this a trick? Am I allowed to touch her?
And when am I supposed to bow?"
I even thought maybe for a second I'll
just back up a little bit and bow right
there before her.
But the time never came and later in
that visit
halmeoni held my hand—a similar size to
mine—and something felt so familiar.
And she held it and grasped it and said,
"Of course I would have accepted you."
But I didn't understand why because I still
hadn't bowed. I hadn't proven that I'm
Korean. I hadn't done anything. And in the
background was Abraham's grandfather or
harabeoji. He was silent and I
couldn't tell if the words didn't come
out or if he didn't have anything to say.
But we never spoke. But there was
something about his presence that I
wanted to know more about. You see,
he looked really similar to my boyfriend
Abraham. He had the same military
physique, the same square shoulders, and
this quiet and warm presence about him.
And so I knew that before I left Korea, I
would have to meet him again. I was
looking for something but I wasn't
really sure what that was. And so before
I left Korea
I made a final visit back. And I had
heard that harabeoji had been waiting the
night before and all morning to think of a
precious story, some words that he could
share with me. And I thought of the words
that I wanted to tell him, to say thank
you and how blessed I felt to be part of
his family and how I would try to be
Korean and uphold these traditions of
this long family legacy.
And when I arrived,
we sat facing each other. No words would
come out, each sitting with great
anticipation and nothing would come out.
We sat there in silence, frozen,
for three hours and nothing would come
out. And it was already time to go and as
I left I turned back wanting to say
something and nothing coming out. And so
I hugged him and he hugged me back and his
embrace was warm and accepting and one
of unconditional love.
And then he said to me,
"Saranghae, I love you." And I never even
had to bow.
Thank you
There's Linda Gregory