Dear friend, I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again Almost a year after his departure from this world, my memory of Kyujin is as fresh as that day we met in Daegu, South Korea. Kyujin is like my big brother in academia. Thinking of him brings back many fond memories. He was there in Chicago when I met someone special (now my wife)—a fun fact here: Kyujin was probably the only conference attendee who wore a baseball cap and hoodies (instead of dressing in professional attire). In Dague, we drank sojo and enjoyed Makchang gui (grilled beef intestines, a delicacy in Kyujin’s hometown). When I was on the job market, experiencing anxiety and self-pity, he immediately offered to pray for me and constantly followed up. In summer 2018, we took the Star Ferry and toured Victoria Harbour in Hong Kong. At that time, he was expecting his second baby and tenure promotion. I waved him goodbye in Hong Kong, never realizing that it will be the last time I will ever see him again on earth.
I miss his familiar warmth, iconic smiling face, and his many witty jokes. My heart aches for missing him in future ARNOVA, AOM, and DISC conferences. I occasionally browse through his Facebook and Instagram feeds, thinking how he would joke about everything the world is going through during this COVID debacle. If he were here today, maybe he would say “hey bro, let’s do a project on COVID!” And maybe he will lament about missing his many friends around the world because travel plans are being disrupted. And I am sure, besides making fun of the busyness of academia, he will say something that cheers you up even during the darkest hours.
I keep imagining his last days. What was he thinking? What regrets did he have? Was he at peace with the destiny knowing that a better home is being prepared for him? What would he say to me after coming down from the apex of life (awarded tenure at a top university and just had his second baby) to walk in the valley of the shadow of death.
Beneath the veneer of his hyper-productivity and travelholic lifestyle, Kyujin is at core a family man who enjoys friendships and everything life has to offer. If anything, the brevity of his life has taught me a lesson: our scholarly life isn’t defined by how much we publish, nor by the number of awards or titles. It is defined by how much we are drawn to the gravity of the mission as a scholar and a mentor, and the many relationships we have built, impacted and enjoyed through the journey.
Kyujin, I wish I could tell you now how our memory of you is being kept alive for your family. I wish you would know that your work continues to impact generations of scholars and your life is celebrated by many around the world for not just producing good research but spreading joy and passion. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again.