Many times in the past, when asked why you picked me, you told people: “Because I took pity on her.” Although we all knew you were only joking, I felt that there was a truth to this. I am grateful to you for your patience and tolerance. Nobody would have guessed that the girl who was thought too bold in manner and too coarse in appearance to snare a mate would find a husband as devoted as you. Remember how my father mocked me when I brought you home to dinner? He could not understand how a respectable man like you could have feelings for me. Even on his deathbed, he never stopped telling me how awkward I looked and that I did not deserve to be married. I always thought it was a cruel irony that you should have taken over his ministry.

I would have given up all hope of marriage if I hadn’t met you that fateful day at church. I still do not understand why you had gone there, as you were a nonbeliever. It was your first time in a church, you said. Were you lonely? Depressed? Suicidal? This remains a mystery.

Over the years, I have seen your hair turn gray and then white, and the white hairs retreating up your scalp. I have watched your skin sag, your wrists grow thin and your chest slowly collapse into itself. Yet, in spite of all this, I want you to know that you mean the world to me, and that if you somehow vanished from my life, I would fade and wilt. Not even our two daughters would be able to fill the empty space of your absence. I would not want to go on.

I know it was a difficult thing for you, allowing me to have the girls. I know it was never your intention to have any children. I am deeply grateful to you for granting me my wishes against your own, and I think we are raising two healthy daughters who will bring us warmth and security in the future. My only wish is that I understood them better. Perhaps you will change your mind and allow me to teach them Korean?