한상훈 동문 장례식 명상과 조사

[김훈]

The “Oh Really?” Hospitality (Mr. Sanghoon Hahn 2023 10 14)                                        Hoon Kim

Psalm 23, John 14:1-3
          It is nice and comforting to have a place to go after a long day of work. Family is waiting, food being cooked, comfortable game room, or garden to unwind in. To be homeless means to have no place to go nor to have nobody to turn to. In this context we can appreciate Jesus' promise that he will prepare rooms for us at the end of our journey on earth. The common Korean expression‎ for death is to "return." Return to where you came from, return to your community, to your ancestor or simply return to home. We gather here today to send off Mr. Hahn to where he would feel most comfortable after his earthly home. We wish all the best for him and condolences to Mrs. Hahn, and her family.
    I wouldreflect on Mr. Hahn's earthly life in this light of having place to go and also providing place to go. To begin with, on a macro level, Mr. Hahn focuses on this mission of providing place to go, to rest and recuperate in. After having worked for the Canada Packer and at a private girl school as a janitor to provide during his early days in immigration, he got a vision of providing place to go. He began to operate rental apartment complex. He established investment and property managementcompany. He had provided living spaces for thousands of people in Mississauga area. We can easily guess how many people became happy to find a unit there and felt relieved. He provided thousands of people with safe spaces to go at the end of a day. For today’s challenges for any municipalities to provide affordable housing, his company shows the vision of Mr. Hahn. He has also shared social technology for property management with many new Korean immigrants.

          Secondly on a macro-micro level, Mr. Hahn provided social space for (new) Korean immigrants. The obituary shows all organizationshe helped to found such as the Korean Canadian Scholarship Foundation, The Korean Canadian Cultural Centre, The Korean Toronto Credit Union and many others. Through these social cultural spaces, numerous old and new immigrants interact with each other, sharing info and experiences, encouragement and laughter. These are social spaces to go when you need each other. For this work, he was awarded with one of the highest civilian honors, the President Award, from the Korean Government.

          Thirdly, on a micro level, Mr. Hahn has accepted each one of us as a person with integrity and creativity. He treats each of us as equal and respected in their own chosen own areas of specialties. When you share thoughts or opinions, you heard him say, “Oh really?” as if he had heard it for the first time or he had never thought of it. It is not a condescending “Oh really?” but it is affirmative “오 그래?” With his nuanced “오 그래?” we felt that we are important and our ideas were taken seriously. Perhaps you also remember of those times when with his encouragement, you ended up talking a little too much. This is his way providing intimate space where we can pour out our deep thoughts and concerns. And at the end we all felt good about ourselves.

          It is the unique legacy of Mr. Hahn to provide socio-economical, ethnic-cultural and personal space where we can find our integrity and value to be truly happy. This is why Jesus final promise that “I will go to prepare rooms for you in my Father’s House” comes alive. As I share my memory of Mr. Hahn, the lyrics of a folk song comes to my mind:

          Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo roam
          Where the deer and the antelope play
          Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word
          And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Eulogy by Bella Hahn 

Hello everyone.  Thank you again so much for devoting this time to spend with our family, and honour my grandfather’s life.  In my grandfather’s memory, I would like to share some thoughts about how he has shaped me.  To be loved is to be shaped.  I was privileged enough to be born into a family in which love has been a never-ending resource.  Love wells up eternally around myself, around my sister, my cousins, my parents and aunt and uncle, and surrounds us in an environment of warmth, of understanding, and of strength.  This love has shaped the people we have become, and it is a love which was created and fostered by the sacrifice and strength of my grandparents. 

My grandMOTHER has always shown me that love is loud.  It is a shared joke, a big smile, a tight hug.  But my grandFATHER always taught me that big love, deep love, is always best shown through small actions, because it is small actions which can have the biggest impact. If my grandMOTHERhas taught me that love is effusive, then my grandFATHER taught me that love is eternal.

I know that by nature, Koreans are a stoic people, and my grandfather is no different.  He was the quiet leader of our family, always happy to listen and watch, but he is also the one who supported us the most, giving us the strength to pursue our biggest dreams. My cousins and I have all branched in very different directions in our education and careers, but ensconced in his love, I know I speak for us all when I say I have never once hesitated in my pursuits, because he entrenched a deep belief in me that no matter what path I take, he will be behind me, loving me and supporting me every second of the way.  It is because of him that I am where I am today – literally.  In part, I chose to go into real estate in the hopes that one day, I could even somewhat continue his legacy and further his impact both within our community and the wider Toronto landscape. 

While grandpa was a formidable businessman, he was also the most patient and loving grandfather.  He was a quiet person, but he also loved us so deeply, and he showed it when it mattered most. In first year university, I was by myself in a new province, with no connection to family, and I did not realize what a quiet force their support was until I noticed it’s distinct absence.  I was lonely and homesick, and standing in a bank on some random weekend.  It was grey and rainy out, as it often is in Vancouver, and I was standing in the line when out of the blue I got a call from grandpa.  I answered, and immediately asked him if everything was alright.  Yes, yes, he assured me.  I just wanted to call and tell you that I love you. 

From 3,000 miles away, I felt that force, that support, that love, and in one phone call, I was reminded that no matter where on earth I was, my family, my grandparents, were out there and they loved me, and were supporting me in my journey.  I told my grandpa that I loved him too, that I would be back home for Christmas, and that I would see him soon.  Ok, I love you, he repeated, before hanging up.  Somehow he knew that I needed his love in that moment, that the distance was getting to me, and he closed the gap in a second. 

As I’m now back in Toronto, and my sister has taken my place in BC, I now see the other side of that conversation. Every Sunday, my grandpa asked me the same set of questions. How is my sister? Is school going well? And finally, when will she be back? 

It’s like a countdown.  Nora will be back in six weeks.  Five weeks.  Three.  Next weekend. On Sunday.  And I know that we are always in his thoughts.  That he knew how I was feeling in that moment because he never stops thinking about how we are doing, where we are.  We are a small family, a scion in a new country, but we are all connected through the love that is constantly being beamed across the continent because we have been taught by my grandpa to always have each other in our thoughts.

I graduated from UBC in May 2020, and in the midst of lockdown, my grandparents and I started having lunch together every Sunday to stave off the isolation of the pandemic.  I would usually order the same meal for us to share, and then tell them about my week, whatever was happening on the internet, my love life… anything and everything that was happening in the world.  My grandma and I would babble on, and grandpa would laugh at whatever he thought was funny or interesting—usually real estate related. 

After lunch, Grandma normally goes to watch the news, but grandpa and I always have coffee and a piece of fruit or chocolate, as Grandpa had a notoriously sweet tooth—in his younger years, he was known for hiding chocolate bars from my grandma’s health-conscious eyes in his bathroom cupboard—and while we drank our coffee, we would be quiet.  We watch the birds and the wildlife in the backyard (recently we saw a coyote, napping in the sun like a dog), and we contemplate life.  It’s in this moment that I have felt closest to my grandpa.

Whenever we eat oranges, my grandma always peels the orange then gives the segments to my grandpa for him to eat before leaving us to our coffee.  Instead of eating them, my grandpa always  takes each individual segment, peels away the tendrils of pith and squeezes out any unwelcome seeds, and then hands them to me. 

Nothing has ever made me feel more loved than waiting for my grandpa to give me a cleanorange segment.  It’s something that seems very inconsequential, but it takes a lot of time for him to do it.  And in the quiet of our afternoon coffee, it feels like he’s handing me the world, fresh and perfect, the bad all peeled away.  I’m an adult woman, but my grandpa has never stopped watching out for me.

As a child, your grandparents are larger-than-life.  They are your parents parents – the ultimate authority figures.  But now, in my own young adulthood, my grandpais my friend, and he offers me a piece of advice.  While we drink our coffee, he holds my hand and says Bella… take it easy. 

I know what he means.  I am a high achiever.  I talk fast and I get things done.  I find what I want and I chase after it.  I am always on the go.  But watching the birds with my grandpa, I am reminded that a life as successful as his, as impactful as his, can only be lived in balance.  For all that he achieved professionally, my grandparents also travelled the world, and spent time with their family and grandchildren.  They went on trips with friends and golfed together and hosted parties.  To even hope to achieve what my grandpa has achieved, I have to try and live as good of a life as he has lived.  And I don’t know if I will, but I truly hope that I can continue to shape my family with the same love with which he has shaped us.  I hope to pass this love on to my children.  I hope they know where they came from and who dug this well of never-ending love, who made my father who he is, my uncle, my cousins, my sister, myself.  I hope I have the opportunity to live up to his image and shape my community the way he has.  I hope he knows how immeasurably proud of him I am.

So, grandpa, I love you.  I will miss you forever, and I will be thinking of you always.  I love you.  Take it easy. 

Thank you so much.

Eulogy by Yung Hahn 

Eulogy for Sang Hoon Hahn, My Dear Father I am here today to honor my father, Sang Hoon Hahn. But first, thank you all for joining our family today in remembrance of him. He’s done much for our family and set very good examples for Tong and me to follow. Today, I would like to share with you one of the ways that he set an example for us. As background, I recall having discussions with my Pastor and his wife about how children tend to inherit certain traits of their parents. They introduced the idea that my parents had “gifted” these personality traits to me. The more I thought about this, the more it resonated with me. So, if you ask me today what is the most important personality trait that my father gifted to me, it would be a “very strong sense of gratitude.” For those of you who have spent any significant time with my father, you’ll know that he was a gentle man with few words. Growing up in his household, that gentleness and those few words carried much weight. During my high school years, my father would often remind me what a great country Canada was. He often said, “what country in the world cuts monthly checks for each child, or allows you to walk into a doctor’s office or hospital without a lengthy discussion on costs and payments?” And as I entered University, he would tell me that college tuition in Canada was a pittance compared to south of the border. 1 For a man of few words, I knew that what he was saying was important. However, I was always nagged by “the greater opportunity south of the border.” I would often ask Dad, “But why Canada? Couldn’t we have immigrated to the US, like the rest of our relatives?” Clearly, at this point in my life, I wasn’t fully recognizing or appreciating the depths of my dad’s “gratitude!” As Mom & Dad’s real estate business really started to grow, my father continued to express his thankfulness and awe for how he had been blessed. He would say things like: “Where else in the world can you emigrate, start at the bottom of the economic strata, and build such a wonderful business? Canada is the place to be!” Having worked a few years in the business world by then, I knew how difficult it was to make a buck! My father’s example of gratitude was beginning to have a greater impact on my worldview. The final example of my father imparting the “gift” of gratitude occurred about 10 years ago. During a family dinner, Dad started talking about his experience during the Korean War. This was highly unusual because he had never spoken about the war before, even though we had often asked about it. From his sharing that evening, we learned that he, and many other ablebodied South Korean young men, were forcibly taken by the North Korean army and driven north for basic training. 2 While on route, the North Korean envoy stopped for the evening near a row of trees. He was instructed to find a tree and go to sleep for the night. When he awoke next morning, he was shocked to learn that he had been left behind. That’s right. The North Korean army had left without him. In a panic, he began searching for food and civilian clothing. He happened upon an old, kind farmer who not only chose to refrain from reporting him to the North Korean army, but even provided the supplies Dad needed for his long trek back to Seoul. I have often wondered how Dad processed everything that happened to him. How is it that he managed to escape when so many others didn’t? Did he feel like he was given a second chance? At one point, I asked Dad how he felt about his experience. With tears in his eyes, he told me that he had been saved by God. That was the only conclusion that he could come to. My Dad’s wartime experience reinforced in him that he should always, no matter the circumstance or outcome, feel blessed and thus grateful. Emigrating to Canada and building a successful business all reinforced his view that he had been saved by God, that he had been blessed and therefore should always be grateful! So, the gift of gratitude continues to live on in the Hahn family. I am 3 grateful that my wife Rose puts up with me daily. And I am continually surprised when my children call us regularly to check-in with us. I am grateful that my brother and his family love us and support us. And I am especially grateful that I get to spend more time with my mother. Thank you, Dad, for this wonderful gift of gratitude. I will do my best to pass it along to the next generation of Hahn’s! I too feel blessed and therefore grateful! I love you Dad and miss you.