Reflections on Life and the Preciousness of Family

As I crossed into my fifties,I realized how fiercely I had been living.

I pushed forward without looking around, and only now do the things around me begin to feel precious.

My daughter, my wife—who stresses me out and whom I stress out in return—and myself, the person I’ve carried through all these years.

About myself… maybe you live, and then you die, and that’s it.

Everyone lives, everyone dies.

That’s how life goes.

But the “me” who has endured everything, the mind that has held all my thoughts, and the soul that has carried me through every moment—those things are finally starting to feel precious.

It’s not about life or death.

It’s about realizing that I’ve never truly lived from within myself.

I’ve never really lived as my genuine self. Now, at this point in life, I find myself looking back.

My family, my life, and the stories that shaped me—at 52, I’m finally reflecting on the life I’ve been living, and I want to start writing it down like a journal.

Maybe my story sounds old-fashioned or boring. But if you’ve taken the time to read it, I sincerely thank you.

“In the middle of a completely jammed rush-hour road, I suddenly felt the urge to start writing a journal for myself — right there, at the moment of that quiet resolve.”

And yes—I’m Korean.