On this precious day marking the 70th birthday, we extend our heartfelt gratitude to everyone who joined us. We present the family representative’s thank-you message, prepared to repay your warm congratulations and love.

Recalling the Past

When people who shared memories gather, stories from the past naturally flow between them. And those stories often extend beyond the past, leading to imaginings and hopes for the future.
In the 1970s and 80s, Muhammad Ali was not just a sportsman to us kids back then, but a legend, a giant. To me, he was a true idol. His punches, unleashed from muscles as solid as a child’s torso, often felt inhuman. There was a boxer who knocked Muhammad Ali down in the ring: Joe Frazier.
On March 8, 1971, at Madison Square Garden in New York City. In the unified heavyweight title match co-hosted by the World Boxing Council (WBC) and the World Boxing Association (WBA), the fighter who landed that stunning blow to Ali’s jaw was Joe Frazier. After watching that fight, I vowed to myself: “Joe Frazier—I will never forget that name until the day I die.” I was consumed by a sense of injustice and rage, as if my own brother had been beaten in the ring. I couldn’t calm my mind at all. I probably spent that night wide awake. In that fight, Ali no longer showed his signature style of ‘floating like a butterfly, stinging like a bee’. True to his nickname, ‘Smokin’ Joe’ drove Ali relentlessly that day, as fiercely as if smoke were rising from his gloves.
But their rivalry didn’t end there. The two fighters met in the ring twice more, ultimately becoming known as ‘fated rivals’ and leading boxing’s golden age of the 1970s together. And now, Joe Frazier has passed away. It was 2011, the year I turned seventy. The news quietly appeared in a corner of the newspaper: he had passed away while receiving treatment in a Philadelphia hospice ward after being diagnosed with liver cancer. He was 67 years old. He was younger than me. He was Ali’s eternal rival, and at one time, he was practically my enemy. I can’t count how many nights I lay awake, swallowing my frustration at his punches. Yet, upon hearing his passing, I was overcome with a deep sorrow, as if bidding farewell to an old friend.
I was actually quite depressed for a while and took time to seriously reflect on death. Growing older seems to mean that the things we must bid farewell to gradually increase. As news of the passing of famous figures who defined an era, both domestically and internationally, trickles in one by one, we are ultimately made keenly aware that nothing is eternal in the face of time. An actor we admired leaves the world, a beloved athlete steps down from the stage, a respected artist quietly exits. Each illuminated an era, figures whose very names still stir a pang in the heart. Though they are no longer with us, the emotion and memories they left behind remain alive and breathing.
Strangely, my heart still feels like a boy’s, and my curiosity about the world hasn’t diminished. This gap—where life changes but the heart seems to stay put—feels more frequent these days. The philosopher and poet George Santayana once said, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Human memory is truly mysterious. Beautiful moments are cherished and become cherished memories, while experiences of failure are reflected upon and become stepping stones to success. Ultimately, it may be thanks to this ability to ‘remember’ that humanity has been able to remain a great being.
Though the heroes of that era are gradually leaving us one by one, the respect and memories I hold for them still warmly occupy a place in my heart. And those memories, like a gift I can take out anytime, add comfort and warmth to living today. The fact that we can reminisce about the past, that we still remember the heroes of that era, and that we can share those memories with someone even now. Isn’t that fact alone truly fortunate and joyful?

I reminisce about the past

Autumn is the perfect season to enjoy the fall foliage with children. The cool breeze, warm sunshine, and paths winding through crimson leaves become beautiful memories that linger in the heart. Around this time each year, a scene naturally comes to mind: memories of childhood picnics with family in the mountains.
Escaping the city and climbing the mountains, the beautifully colored leaves welcomed us, and the fields spread out with golden ripening grains, conveying autumn’s abundance as if singing through nature. If I could walk through that scene holding my child’s small hand, wouldn’t that day be the most grateful gift? This year, autumn seems to have arrived unusually early. Perhaps it feels that way because this is the year I turn seventy. The number ‘seventy’ still feels unfamiliar and awkward. It makes me realize anew just how quickly time has passed.
Memory is a truly strange thing. My heart still flutters as it did back then, yet the faces, names, and voices from that time only come to mind faintly. This is especially true when I recall my first love. Even though I remember loving them passionately, as if it were the last love of my life, the specific scenes keep fading. You might wonder, ‘Why bring up first love all of a sudden?’ Not long ago, on my way home after meeting a friend, a scent carried on the passing breeze suddenly brought back a scene from when I was twenty. A single unexpected scent, an old object, can bring back memories buried deep within the heart.
Though long ago, there are moments vivid as if they happened yesterday. The sunlight that day, the path we walked together, the laughter we shared, and the emotions of that time. All are precious, warm memories, the moments that shaped who I am today. Memories come back like that, unexpectedly. A specific place, a scent, or an old object becomes the medium. For instance, the stone wall path of Deoksugung Palace where I walked with my first love, or the love letters I wrote through sleepless nights back then.
Today’s Seoul is a modern city filled with towering buildings and cutting-edge technology, yet it too is a space holding countless memories of the past. Yet, when a street revisited after years looks completely different, a strange heaviness can settle in the heart. Like people, cities undergo change and grow with time. Development and modernization are unavoidable currents of the era, but fully preserving the history and memories they hold is never easy.
For instance, walking along the now neatly renovated Cheonggyecheon Stream, it’s truly difficult to recall the former Peace Market and the martyr Jeon Tae-il. His cry, “Workers are people too!”—which he shouted before vanishing like a flame—now seems to have faded from people’s memories, making my heart ache. It was a time that clearly existed, a reality we all lived through.
The world constantly changes, and it has repeated these changes. How could we forget that astonishing moment called the ‘Miracle on the Han River’? Behind the joy and pride everyone felt lay the tears of parents, the sweat of laborers, and the fierce stories of survival endured by our families. Of course, we cannot live remembering everything. But we also cannot live forgetting everything.
The history of my life was not made in a single day. And I know well that many things we take for granted today originated from someone’s tears, sweat, sacrifice, and sorrow. That is why I live each day with gratitude. I resolve, again and again, to be a person who lives embracing the past, not merely looking toward my own tomorrow.
I pour all the love and gratitude held within that time into these words today. Even now, I quietly repeat my wish: that someone’s life becomes a memory, and that those memories become the strength for tomorrow. I am truly grateful.

I will live humbly

It is autumn. The days grow shorter, the wind turns cold. Fallen leaves pile thick along the roadsides, and amidst this bleak scenery, memories of time passed surface one by one without my noticing. The sudden rush of regret and longing—perhaps that too is this season’s unique sentiment. Recalling how you all bustled about in the crisp weather to attend this celebration fills my heart with deep gratitude. Thanks to you all, I am spending a truly happy and meaningful time today. Glancing around me, I see the warm smile of my loving spouse, my dependable daughter and son-in-law, and even my adorable grandchildren… I wonder if there could be any greater joy or happiness than this. Everything feels overwhelmingly generous, and I am simply filled with gratitude.
From what I’ve observed throughout my life, happy families share one common trait: both spouses are humble, or at least one is deeply humble. They recognize their own shortcomings, regard their partner as someone beyond their deserving, are grateful for the life they have now, and find satisfaction simply in having children. That humble heart is the solid foundation that safeguards a happy family. Reflecting on this leads me to look back at myself. I lived constantly overwhelmed by work and fatigue, often acting as a patriarchal husband and father, rushing forward without pause. But time has gradually changed me. Above all, thanks to my wife’s warm support, I feel myself becoming a gentler, more compassionate person.
Sometimes I wonder: What good deeds did I do in a past life to deserve such blessings? I recall the ambitions I held in my heart on my first day at the company and the day I bought my first home. ‘Someday, I too must become a capable person like my seniors.’ ‘I am still lacking. I need to learn more.” With that mindset, I always kept my eyes open, striving never to stop learning, and lived by disciplining myself. But as time passed, confidence grew, and at some point, others’ stories began to sound trivial. That was probably when it started. When I stopped growing. I see many people stall at that point.
But at that belated stage, I realized one crucial truth. Truly exceptional people are those who, even as they age, never lose their original resolve. They continue learning with an open mind, as if they were just starting out. I too have kept this truth close to my heart, constantly reminding myself not to lose that initial resolve. Even now, I reaffirm my commitment to “live humbly” day after day. I believe humility is entirely different from a passive or timid attitude. Rather, a truly humble person feels they have little to lose because they see themselves as insignificant, and thus lives life with greater courage and a proactive attitude. Such people are often more confident and spirited, walking their path with simplicity.
How wonderful it would be to live with such a humble mindset. Yet, living exactly as one resolves is never easy. That’s why I make a daily resolution. And I resolve and strive again. I believe that as this effort accumulates day by day, someday I might draw a little closer to true humility. Today, I resolve in my heart once more: to lay down pride, lay down face, lay down greed, and live with sincere humility. I believe that living this way is the path that truly brings us closer to happiness. Thank you.

I am glad poverty is not passed down

It is a morning with a refreshingly cool breeze. The air is so crisp it makes you wonder when the scorching heat even existed, and the breeze flowing in through the window brings a sense of ease to the heart. Amidst the annual cycle of seasons, I find myself feeling inexplicably melancholy whenever the time of ‘Light Snow’ approaches. But upon reflection, is there truly anything in this world without reason? The winds around Xiaoxue are merely nature’s signal that winter draws near, yet to me, this season arrives like an alarm quietly summoning old memories.
Before the excitement of the first snow had even faded, the real cold would set in, and every year, the worry of whether we could safely get through the winter would come first. That anxiety wasn’t solely about the weather. I grew up in the countryside, where winter stretched into a long, tedious time. Mother worked at a factory, Father traveled to a distant city for work; both were away from home all day to make ends meet. We siblings left behind barely managed to wash ourselves with a little warm water mixed into cold water, and scabs always formed on our cracked, chapped hands. The winter fields and paddies were silent, like barren land stripped of life, and the emaciated dog barked weakly, like an old man suffering from bronchitis. In that landscape where everything seemed frozen, we were poor, and life flowed slowly.
I remember standing at the corner of the alley one day, waiting for my parents to come home from work. What suddenly caught my eye were the trees, stripped bare of all leaves to endure the winter, leaving only their gnarled branches. Their appearance seemed almost solemn and resilient. Seeing the annual grasses lying flat and tangled helplessly by the roadside, I sometimes felt a desolate thought: perhaps spring would never come at all. It seems a bit silly now, but the bleakness, stillness, loneliness, and solitude I felt back then still linger deep in a corner of my heart. And that day, I made a quiet vow deep within myself: “I will live diligently and never live in poverty again.” That vow became the guiding light for my life thereafter.
I studied hard, worked diligently at my company, and lived more conscientiously than most. Looking back, it was a time spent rushing busily forward. It feels as if the little kid waiting for his parents at the corner of the alley in my childhood suddenly grew up overnight and arrived at today. Years passed like minutes, and before I knew it, my child was growing up taking a warm home and a bountiful table for granted. Fortunately, I did not pass on poverty to my child. That single fact alone fills me with immense joy and, above all, deep gratitude.
Yet, at the same time, thoughts like these occasionally flicker through my mind. A sense of guilt toward my parents, who toiled in poverty their entire lives before passing away. I recall how they constantly endured, sacrificing what they wanted to eat or wear, all to raise their children. To escape poverty, I ran forward, staring only ahead. I had no room to look back at those who remained poor. Having run so relentlessly, I now want to become someone who looks back and glances to the side. It’s a season when I hope my heart and gaze can become a little broader and deeper.
I hope my life no longer remains confined to merely ‘living well for myself.’ I wish the small achievements and joys I’ve attained can be passed on to someone else as a warm glow, so I can live a little more slowly, catching my breath. Today, with a heart as cool as this breeze, I reaffirm my resolve. It’s truly fortunate that poverty wasn’t passed down. And I am grateful.

I love my hometown

The evening sky is turning crimson. The cool autumn breeze, the comforting, warm food, and this moment shared with you, my dear friends, feels truly precious and deeply appreciated. My hometown village is now a very small place, with barely a dozen households remaining. It was never large, even in my childhood. Compared to neighboring villages with over a hundred households, this place was always modest and simple. Over the years, people gradually left, one by one, and now it’s become so quiet that even the wind feels serene.
Yet, despite this, my hometown remains the warmest name to me. Though its outward appearance may be more humble than before, this village still lives and breathes. On the Full Moon Festival or the Seventh Night of the Seventh Month, though simple, the village celebrations quietly continue. The vibrant scenes of those days are gone, but what remains in their place are memories, hearts, and love. As a child, I loved jumping out of bed when the first rooster crowed before sunrise and walking around the neighborhood. I wondered if anything had happened overnight, and even in my young mind, I felt a sense of responsibility to watch over the village. I always did this with my father. Holding his hand tightly, I’d tell him about school and cautiously drop hints about the friend I secretly liked.
Then, when the neighborhood dogs would start barking all at once, the commotion spread through the village like a bugle call announcing morning. Once it quieted down, my father would smile and say, “Now that we walk the village, the dogs seem to know we’re family.” Hearing that, I’d laugh along too, and a vague sense of pride would wash over me. That memory still lingers warmly in a corner of my heart. I have returned to live in this hometown, where memories with my father are rooted and friendships with friends grew. It has already been five years since I came back. I take this opportunity to once again express my sincere gratitude to the village elders who warmly welcomed me when I first returned.
My body and mind, exhausted from the busy city life, could finally catch their breath upon arriving here. Time moves much slower here than in the city. Thanks to the leisure that blooms in this slowness, the quiet scenery, and the warm people, I am gradually finding balance in my life again. Sometimes, when the evening sunset paints the sky red, I suddenly recall that path I walked with my father. The barking of dogs, the backs of two people walking together beneath the crimson sky, and the warm sensation tightly held in both hands. Perhaps I’ve been waiting for such moments all along. For the father of those days, the friends, and the longing to return to that time.
Like the scene from that day when I ran across the empty playground to return my younger brother’s umbrella, small, ordinary scenes become more vividly nostalgic as time passes. Such moments gather together, as if to warmly compose the epilogue of life. Thinking back, not a single thing was achieved by my own strength alone. That I stand here today is thanks to the countless invisible help and warm hands of so many people. That is why I am all the more grateful for this village, and why you all are so precious.
I thank you sincerely. And I convey my deepest respect and love through this occasion. I am truly fortunate to have a hometown. Thank you.

Health comes first

We often learn much from the lives of those who achieved great things. Why did they pursue their goals so passionately? How could they walk their path silently and steadfastly for so long without losing heart? The answer is simple yet profound: ‘Because they desired it so intensely that they could never give up.’ When we truly desire something, we become prepared to willingly give up time, money, sleep, relationships, and even our own reputation. Yet in reality, few people can sacrifice themselves to that extent. I was no different, and most people are likely similar. Of course, the weight of what we sacrifice varies. But the weight of the word ‘sacrifice’ itself is never light.
Nevertheless, we know this: some things can never be gained without sacrifice. Sometimes, that very sacrifice becomes the stepping stone to greater achievements. But knowing this doesn’t make putting it into practice easy. That’s precisely the nature of ‘sacrifice’. Economics often quotes the expression, “There’s no such thing as a free lunch.” It means that every choice comes with a corresponding cost. Whether that cost is sacrifice or an investment in the future, ultimately, every choice depends on the mindset with which I decide.
In 2004, at the peak of his success in the IT industry, Steve Jobs was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The most lethal type, at that. His doctors told him he had at most six months left. Fortunately, he recovered through surgery, but he had to face profound suffering at death’s door. That experience actually gave him powerful inspiration. In his 2005 Stanford University commencement speech, he said, “Stay hungry, stay foolish.” He didn’t stop. He continued to pursue creative and innovative endeavors, walking his own path.
I too experienced health issues earlier this year and underwent surgery. Fortunately, it was detected early and required only a relatively simple procedure, but the sheer terror of that moment remains vivid in my memory. Looking back, it seems that behind many of my life’s accomplishments lay the invisible sacrifice of my health. While I’ve managed countless tasks living a busy life, my most crucial asset—my health—was pushed to the back burner. Now, I’m trying to shift the direction of my life a bit. I’m reducing the intensity of my work and investing more time in regaining my health. I’m also cherishing the time with my family that I’ve put off for so long and reconnecting, one by one, with friends I haven’t seen in ages. I’m making sure to get the sufficient sleep I’d temporarily forgotten about and exercising whenever possible to refine my daily routine.
Yesterday, I worked out with an old friend. On my way home after the workout, my wife called. “Where are you? Hurry home, let’s have dinner.” It was a brief, simple call, but that moment felt truly warm and happy. Memories of the time I’d lived only for busyness suddenly surfaced, and a fleeting regret crossed my mind: ‘What was I so desperately clinging to all that time?’
I sincerely thank everyone who joined me today for my 70th birthday celebration. And I have something I must say here: “Health comes first.” I hope this isn’t just a formal greeting or a cliché. More precious than any achievement, more valuable than any success, is our health. Everyone, please stay healthy. I sincerely wish health and peace accompany you in this very moment and in all the days to come.

The Power of Family

Before we know it, we’ve already passed the halfway point of this year. The New Year’s resolutions made at the dawn of the year still feel vivid, yet time has flown by like an arrow—no, even faster than that. In the flow of that time, I have now reached my seventieth birthday. At this age, one naturally reflects on life and ponders the source of human suffering. The answer was surprisingly simple. Much of the suffering that torments us actually stems from unnecessary things—from resistance we create ourselves.
So what is the true cause of suffering? I suspect it’s because we fail to accept this very moment as it is, or because we unconsciously resist it. That said, the act of resisting isn’t entirely bad. Sometimes that force becomes an opportunity for us to grow another step, or it acts as the will to not settle for the present. However, the clear truth is that the more we accept and respect this very moment as it is, the more we can become free from suffering, affliction, and the ‘ego’. Yet putting this simple truth into practice is never easy. It seems that all change begins from that small starting point: acknowledging reality.
There’s a song that sometimes pops into my head. It’s a line from a singer named Namu.

“There are so many of me inside me, there’s no place for you to rest. Inside me, there are vain winds, no place for you to feel at ease.”

Each line of the lyrics resonates deeply within me. One day after hearing this song, I told my spouse, “There are too many versions of me inside, leaving no room for you to rest.” My spouse quietly replied, “It’s not just you; most people live that way.” Hearing that, I was lost in thought for a long time. A life where even I cannot find peace because of myself. That might be the reality we all live in.
These days, people seem to live suffering from what you might call ‘happiness compulsion.’ It feels like we live in an era where personal unhappiness or pain must be hidden, regarded as shameful. Even when meeting friends, we mostly share bright, happy stories to lift the mood. As a result, the word “happiness” has somehow come to be seen as some absolute standard, and the words of someone talking about happiness can sound like gospel. But for someone like me, a ‘happiness underachiever,’ such words only felt unsettling and burdensome.
Until I turned thirty, I suffered from severe depression. I lived with deep conflict and anguish between my self and ego, between ideals and reality. One day, enduring this pain felt utterly meaningless. That’s when I resolved: “Alright, today I’m going to end myself.” But right at that moment, a strange thought flashed through my mind. ‘I kill myself’? Doesn’t that imply there’s another ‘me’ inside me besides ‘me’? My usual self, and another self that disapproves of that self. So then, who exactly is the real ‘me’?
Within that question, I suddenly gained an insight. The fact that the real ‘me,’ which is existence itself, and the fake ‘me,’ called the ego or self, coexist within one body. Only then did I begin to understand, a little, why I had suffered so much from worry and torment. Those times were like a journey through a long cave. Days lived with one foot in reality and the other in ideals. Life was always uncomfortable, like sitting on a bed of thorns, a constant state of tension with almost no moments of ease.
Yet, enduring those arduous times and making it this far was entirely thanks to my family. Above all, it was because my spouse and children stood silently by my side that I could become who I am today. I want to take this opportunity to express my sincere gratitude. Of course, even now, worries and anxieties never cease. This tendency is probably more my innate disposition than a result of my environment. Still, on a joyful day like today, I express my deepest gratitude to all of you for being here with me.
Family is the only space where I can truly be myself. And it was because of that family that I could rise again. Life can be painful and exhausting at times, but the warm love and sincerity we find within it lift us back up. I end today by sharing that love. Thank you.

Walking Exercise, Small Miracles of Daily Life

Except for my university days, I’ve hardly ever traveled far. Even the university I attended was close by—a 30-minute bus ride or a 40-minute walk. From elementary school through middle and high school, I could walk to each within 20 minutes, so I hardly ever remember struggling with the commute. At the time, I just took it for granted, but I still vividly remember friends who commuted from farther away envying me.
My first job after entering society was the same. It was only a 15-minute drive from home, so I never felt any inconvenience commuting. As a result, I naturally walked less and less, and walking itself became something I hardly noticed. As a student, short distances felt natural, but as I got older, I developed the habit of relying on a car even for the shortest trips.
There’s a joke that in the South Korean Army, anything over three steps requires a vehicle. Then, at some point, I realized I had become exactly that kind of person. Walking toward something wasn’t the norm anymore; simply riding somewhere had become my everyday routine.
Then one day, on an ordinary commute home, a small incident occurred. Standing at the bus stop, thinking about heading home, I realized I’d left my wallet at the office. My mind instantly became cluttered. ‘Do I have to go back to the office…?’ Just the thought made me feel stifled. From the moment I clocked out, the office had become a place I never wanted to return to. ‘I barely escaped, how could I possibly go back…’ That thought made my feet reluctant to move.
Then, suddenly, an idea struck me. ‘It’s a 15-minute drive, so walking would take about an hour. Should I try walking?” Resolving myself, I quietly started walking home. At first, the path felt unfamiliar, the steps strange, but that walk that day was the starting point that shaped who I am now.
After that day, I consciously began walking. At first, it was just part of my commute, but gradually, the time and distance I walked increased. Walking cleared my head and calmed my mind. Above all, I felt my body become much lighter and my breath less labored. I was surprised by my body’s changing responses day by day, and I realized anew just how much of an asset walking had become to my health.
Even now, I walk steadily. When I plug in my earphones and play music, songs I don’t usually listen to play randomly. Sometimes unfamiliar tunes make me think, ‘Did I even have this song?’ and they sound fresh. Among them was a trendy new song my granddaughter added. I quietly deleted it as soon as I heard it, but her thoughtfulness felt truly warm and heartfelt. That time walking while listening to music feels like a little journey to me.
When I finish walking and arrive home, a refreshing sensation spreads throughout my body. An indescribable lightness and clarity envelops me, as if all the dust and fatigue of the day have been washed away.
Walking is a quintessential aerobic exercise. As we age, strenuous exercise can actually be harmful, but walking carries a low risk of injury and places less strain on the body, making it an exercise you can sustain consistently for a long time. And the true charm of walking, as I feel it, isn’t just about health. While walking, things I never noticed when rushing by began to catch my eye one by one.
Wildflowers blooming by the roadside, birds chirping perched on tree branches, even the laughter of children echoing from alley corners… That’s how I discovered small miracles in everyday life, one by one. Even amidst life’s hectic flow, I felt the beauty of existence seep into my slow, deliberate steps.
Only now have I gained the leisure to observe the world at a leisurely pace. While I cannot hold onto time’s swift passage, I’ve learned how to fill that time wholly with ‘myself’.
Walking isn’t just physical activity to me. It has become a grateful habit that realigns the rhythm of daily life, and the greatest gift gained from it was not physical health, but ‘peace of mind’.
To those reading this, how about taking a walk today? Happiness, closer than you might think, may be waiting for you just around the corner. Walking might just be another way to look deeper into life.

I am happy to have family

The weather is gradually turning cooler. Thanks to the lighter air and clearer atmosphere, I feel a refreshing sensation deep within my chest these days. The breeze seeping in morning and evening has grown softer, and the sky’s hue has gradually gained more transparency. Soon, white snow will pile softly on the roads, and the cold, biting wind will make us button up our collars. Thinking of snow and winter winds, it seems the season has already stepped onto winter’s threshold.
The world we live in may appear outwardly unchanged and peaceful, yet not long ago, countless passages, doors, and boundaries existed everywhere. That time has now flowed far away, and we have crossed that river of time to arrive here now. Today’s youth may still be wandering somewhere along those boundaries, searching for their path, exploring themselves as they live each day. Having passed through such times, the world now seems suddenly smaller, yet looking back carefully, the world I thought I knew was far older and deeper than that. Amidst seasonal landscapes vastly different from before, I recall a summer day I may never encounter again. That summer had white clouds, fragrant water, and deep, cool shade. It was precisely that time, still vivid somewhere in my heart, when each day was filled with countless promises and anticipation.
For a long time, I worked at the office, cared for my family after work, and lived busily fulfilling my role in society. Even amidst those frantically passing years, looking back, the moments spent with family remain far more vivid in my memory than the time spent in society. Within that time, family was my very self, the driving force of my life, and its greatest joy. Living my own life, and having that time become meaningful to someone else, is truly precious and something for which I am deeply grateful. Watching my children walk their own paths with sincerity, and now being able to witness them nurturing new life themselves, is an amazing gift from life. Observing this process, I finally came to understand deep in my heart what ‘true happiness’ really is.
Is there any greater blessing than having a family that is healthy and harmonious? I take this opportunity to express my heartfelt gratitude to my family, who are always a steadfast presence by my side. I will strive even harder to live as a good parent and a good grandmother. I will live each day with a grateful heart, cherishing the seasons that have passed, the time spent together, and the precious people by my side. Thank you for reading.

I will take good care of my health

December is already upon us. The bitterly cold winter, enough to freeze your hands and feet solid, has arrived in full force. While it’s important to take care of your health before catching a cold and getting bedridden, it’s equally important to recover quickly if you do get sick. Facing the familiar unwelcome guest of winter colds and aches, which arrive like clockwork every year, we are always reminded to firmly hold onto our physical and mental well-being. To everyone reading this, I sincerely hope above all else that you take good care of your health.
There is one unforgettable day for me. It was the day I returned home after receiving the diagnosis of ‘cancer’. The scenery from that day is still vividly etched in my memory. The world seemed to move in slow motion. On my way home, I suddenly stopped walking, sat down on a bench, and just stared at the surroundings for a long time. The familiar streets, the playground I often passed, the scenes that had always been there—they all felt strange and new in that moment. It was like seeing the world for the very first time.
My family spoke to me gently then. “Even if you have cancer, whether you overcome it or not can depend on your thoughts and mindset.” But to be honest, back then, vague fear and anxiety overwhelmed me far more than any hope that I could “overcome it.” Even when I tried to comfort myself with positive thoughts, dark emotions kept surging from deep within, impossible to shake off easily. At some point, I found myself unconsciously starting to tidy up my surroundings and reaching out to acquaintances I rarely contacted to check on them. Only then did I truly grasp how difficult it is to regulate one’s emotions and gather one’s thoughts.
But throughout all that time, I had family who cared for me with utmost devotion, and because of them, I was ultimately able to overcome the crisis of cancer. I found myself thinking, ‘What good fortune have I to have such wonderful people by my side?’ I deeply felt they were too good for someone as flawed as me. It was because of them that I could rise again. Looking back now, I might even be living a healthier life than before my cancer diagnosis. It allowed me to rediscover the value of time I had carelessly let slip by in the rush of daily life, the meaning of happiness I hadn’t fully grasped, and the preciousness of family.
I now clearly understand that simply feeling the breath of my beloved family close by is true happiness itself. The first person I called on the day I received the diagnosis that I had overcome cancer was my spouse. I still vividly remember the trembling voice on the other end of the line, the hesitant speech, and the breaths choked with sobs. That emotion was so overwhelming and genuine that it came through fully, even without many words. Even now, thinking of my family makes my heart swell and a wave of deep affection wash over me. As the saying goes, even a president is just an ordinary person when faced with the pain of a loved one. The shock that befell our family that day was so immense it defies words.
Having passed through all that time, I now vow deep in my heart: I will live the rest of my life remembering and being grateful. And I want to take this opportunity to express my sincere gratitude to all the acquaintances who stood by me, cheering for my health and praying for me. From now on, I will exercise more diligently, manage my physical fitness consistently, and cultivate both body and mind to be stronger. Above all, I will live without forgetting the preciousness of everyday life. To myself, and before all of you reading this, I declare cautiously but clearly.
I will live healthily.
Thank you sincerely.