There is always more...

I have just spent the past hour or so reading the blog of someone I have never met. Another Korean adoptee, raised in America, died last week from cancer- she was 25 years and 2 days old. Her name is Julia Ji Hye Mendelson and reading her writings from over the past two years reminded me that there is still so much to learn about myself.

I was ready to start reflecting upon my year here in Korea and I will get to this eventually, maybe even next week. Yet, just within this hour I have thought about and felt things I have never entertained before- simply because they never entered my consciousness.

This post seems to be very different than the majority of the others- it could be because it is a little late here in Korea and I'm tired from my weekend in Seoul, but also because I was moved so much by Ji Hye's story. It can be found here: juliasworld.wordpress.com/

Thursday evening I checked into the adoptee hostel up in Seoul and was informed about a memorial service to be held the following night for someone I never knew. I think it was expected of me to attend, even though at the time I felt no connection or obligation to go. However, after hearing a little about Ji Hye (albeit, some wrong info) I decided to go. After all, I figured I would appreciate it if people attended a memorial service for me.

It was a very nice service- attended in a small number due to the traffic problems (aka protesters). Many of the people attending and putting on the service never even met Ji Hye. Yet it touched everyone.

I got back to Daegu this evening and decided to search for her blog and glean what I could from her writing about her story. I am glad I did.

I made some preliminary lists reflecting some of my experiences over the past year, but one of the most important experiences has been meeting and connecting with other adoptees and finding within this similar, yet very different group of people a community that bands together and values one another above all.

-me

in memory of julia ji hye mendelson