PAK (some write it Park in English)... my family name.I painted this board for a friend's wall and as I was thinking of what to paint/create, I decided to go with my family name in Korean. A name that connects me to a rich history, culture, background, and gives meaning to who I am today.
I think what makes me kind of sad and why I felt compelled to paint this for a wall for others to see is that even as closely as I am connected to this name, I also feel a lot of distance. My grandfather died when I was young...too young to ask him about his own history in Korea, and my grandmother died one year ago, and with her death, so many silent stories I am aching to know now.
I don't know what it is with families and secrets or silent histories... I don't know why I don't ask more detailed questions to my own parents about our family name and our family history and specifics about why they came into this country. I don't know why they don't feel compelled to share this information whatsoever. It's like we live by the policy of "Don't ask, don't tell."
And yet, I feel this name coursing through my blood. I love it. I don't ever want to lose it or replace it. It identifies me.
Was just thinking of my halmoni (grandmother) today, missing her face and her presence, and wanted to share. I'm glad my family name will be hanging somewhere, even when I leave this particular place.
2 comments:
Irene,
This is moving. I, too, wonder about our silence. Why don't we share our stories more freely? Why do we let memories, and with them identities, die?
I blogged about this once upon a time, as I was nearing giving birth and wonderinf why I didn't know any of the birth stories of the women in my life. Here it is, for what it's worth: http://networknotes.blogspot.com/2006/10/and-then-there-were-two.html
Thanks for your thoughts...
Noelle
That is an awesome picture of your halmoni! I can see where you get your spirit. :)
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