In my public life, I more often talked about my mother, who was my role model on how to be a fierce Asian woman in a world that does not see us.

It has always been much more difficult for me to talk about my dad. As a teenager, my dad and I fought. I was growing in my political consciousness as a young Asian American female and from a young age, I had a clear calling to public service. My father and I disagreed on everything.

When I graduated from Stanford, my dad did not understand why I studied a “minority” degree in Asian American Studies nor my career choice to become a community organizer. As a typical immigrant dad and American born daughter, we didn’t share our feelings with one another. And my dad did not hug me.

But over time, we evolved and something I never thought would happen did. We became close. In college, my father and I had a difficult time communicating. However, I felt gratitude to my father but could not figure out how to SAY it, so I wrote him a card for his birthday to thank him for all he had done for me and mailed it from California. On his birthday, I called my Dad to wish him a happy birthday and hopefully hear a response to the card.

He didn’t mention it, so when he transferred the phone to my mom, I asked her if he had received it. She didn’t know the contents of the card, but she said, yes I saw him read it and it made him happy.

When I came home that Winter Break on a red eye flight, only my father was up to greet me as the winter sunrose. He showed me the new things he bought for the apartment and he had framed many things.

As he walked me around, he pointed to a frame-it was the birthday card I sent him. My dad was so proud of me when I won a seat on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. He became obsessed with the policies I worked on and read anything that had to do with my work.

He figured out how to do google alerts and sent me articles about myself. And I learned that we are more alike than different. In a different era, he too might have run for office.
And I realized we fought a lot because my dad was well read and has an astonishing memory when it comes to world history.

But my dad was also willing to evolve in his thinking and worldview. My dad became a feminist, especially in regards to my career and life and eventually, albeit late, my mother’s as well. He became in the end, the most open-minded person I know.

As many individuals in this room know, because my father called you to ask you to contribute to my many campaigns for office, my GREATEST political cheerleader was my Dad.

When I ran into the hospital room and leapt on my father’s bed in his final moment, my brother called me from LAX airport and I was able to put him on speakerphone as he spoke the final words to my father the moment before his heart stopped beating.

Dad loves you Phil, so much. This was God’s last gift to Dad on earth. And now we will live, all of us, to endeavor to exemply my father’s grace and humanity in what remains of our life here on earth.

I wish my father was not my chosen teacher of these very human lessons, but I also know my Dad, who took his role as the patriarch with relish, which included letting the matriarch, my mom run this household, he would not have it any other way.

I love my dad so much. And even though he never said it to me, I know he does too. He raised a strong, opinionated daughter and he’s damn proud of it.

아빠 사랑해
The body may die and cease to exist, but our love is everlasting. Forever and ever. (편집상 축약한 내용입니다)