‘Father’s True Heart’: The Story Behind ‘To My Beloved Daughter’

For twenty-eight years, I have kept one letter from my father close to my heart. I still recall him at my wedding, eyes brimming with tears, and how, just before I set off on my honeymoon, he placed a letter and a few exchanged dollars into my hands. Every line, written with such care, was filled with his love and concern. Even though I wasn’t going far, he worried deeply—wondering if I would build a happy home and be cherished by my new in-laws.

“As I send you off, my heart feels empty. Along with that emptiness comes a parent’s worry, as if I were placing a tender plant, once sheltered in a greenhouse, outside the door—fearing it might be knocked down by the wind or scorched by the sun.”

Back then, I took my father’s words simply as a way of saying he was worried about sending off his precious daughter. But raising my own children has allowed me to grasp, at least in part, the emotions he could not fully express into words. Not long ago, when my daughter didn’t contact me and failed to come home until the early morning, I felt that same restless anxiety. Though she is an adult, I couldn’t shake the fears of what might happen to her in such a harsh world. Thankfully, she was safe, but during those hours, my heart burned with worry. Only then did I truly grasp what my father meant—that it felt like setting tender greenhouse plant out into the open air.

My father was small and slight in stature, yet within him was a spirit of remarkable strength. He showed his love more through actions than through words. My mother often told me how dearly he cherished me as his first child—that when I was a baby, he could hardly bear to let me out of his arms. I was so fragile in those early years that some even doubted I would survive long, which only made him all the more protective. I remember little from that time except being carried to the hospital on my parents’ backs. Still, a few memories with my father remain warm in my heart: the way he would take a clock and turn the hands to teach me how to tell time, the day he took me to a restaurant to try Western food, and the simple gift of a lip balm he once placed in my hand.

Even after I became an adult, my father continued to look after me with quiet devotion. When I returned from my honeymoon to our new home, I discovered that he had taken care of everything I hadn’t managed to arrange myself. In the kitchen, jars of salt, sugar, and pepper were neatly labeled and lined up, and every room had its own trash bin. It seemed there wasn’t a single corner in the house that hadn’t been touched by my parents’ careful attention.

Whenever I visited my parents with my own children, I would watch my father dote on his grandchildren and realize he must have loved me just as tenderly when I was small. He often took them on walks to a nearby spring or park—a quiet, thoughtful way to let his daughter rest while he spends time with the little ones.

Once, I gave my father a leather phone case. It wasn’t anything expensive, yet he proudly told everyone that it was a gift from his daughter. Hearing this, my heart ached, realizing just how much he had given me over the years—and how little I had truly been able to give in return.

Ten years have passed since my father left us. Losing him felt as if a mountain that had always protected me had suddenly vanished. Even now, his absence feels immense—just seeing his name written somewhere, or the handwriting he left behind, is enough to bring me to tears. The love he gave, which I didn’t fully understand while he was here, now weighs heavily on my heart. Why did it take me so long to realize it? If he were still with me, I would tell him “I love you” again and again, and hold him tightly in my arms.

I have always longed to be a parent like my father, yet I cannot help but feel that my love will never quite measure up to his. Yet, it is because of the love I received from him that I am able to pass that love on to my own children. At the start of each year, my father would take out a fresh calendar and notebook, carefully filling them with every birthday, every important occasion, and every detail worth remembering about our family. I have carried on that habit, keeping my own record of those I love. And when the day comes for my daughter to marry, I, too, will place my love into a letter for her. Perhaps then I will finally understand the true breadth of his love.

Dearest Dad, how I miss you. Being your daughter has been my greatest happiness. I am forever grateful for your love. I love you, always.

Dear Sang-hui,
I trust your honeymoon was full of joy.
Our heartfelt congratulations to you both on your marriage.
Seeing you, now the lady of your own household, leave your parents’ arms to build a family of your own fills us with pride.
As I send you off, my heart feels empty. Along with that emptiness comes a parent’s worry, as if I were placing a tender plant, once sheltered in a greenhouse, outside the door—fearing it might be knocked down by the wind or scorched by the sun. By now, we will probably no longer hear people calling us “Sang-hui’s mother” or “Sang-hui’s father,” nor referring to our home as “Sang-hui’s house,” as they once did. There’s an old saying that even a little dog raised at home leaves the house feeling empty—and truly, we feel that same emptiness deep in our hearts at moments like this. Your mother and I did our best to prepare the bare necessities for your newlywed life, putting all our care into it. Still, we cannot help but feel it was not nearly enough. Surely, you will need better things and more things as you go along. We trust that you will gather them little by little, as you and your husband build your home together. Now that you two have begun life as a family, may your hearts be joined in harmony, supporting and relying on one another. Through patience and understanding, may you build a peaceful home and a life of health and lasting happiness. We hope that you will become a respected and cherished member of your new extended family, beloved and honored by them all.
April 7, 1997
From your loving father and mother