This week was our first Chuseok in Korea, which is basically Korea’s version of Thanksgiving. It’s a major Korean holiday centered around family, gratitude, honoring ancestors, and spending time together. There’s traditional food, family gatherings, travel, and usually a whole lot of people trying to get somewhere at the same time.
For our first Chuseok, we decided to take a bus trip and experience a little more of Korea together.
We visited Suncheonman National Garden and a traditional walled village, explored, walked way more than the boys would have preferred, and got to see a completely different side of Korea. We also ate delicious food and even made a traditional-style paper tea tray, which was one of those experiences that reminded me just how far away from Texas we really are.
And while we were doing all of these things—exploring, laughing, making crafts, trying new foods—I kept thinking about Lucy.
It has only been a few days since we lost her, and honestly, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.
Chuseok is a holiday about family. About coming together. About remembering where you come from and the people who are part of your story.
And Lucy was such a huge part of ours.
She was part of our everyday life for 14 years. She was there for the big things and the completely insignificant things. She moved from Texas to Korea with us. She was my constant companion here when everything was unfamiliar and I was still trying to figure out how to build a life in a new country.
And now, somehow, we are celebrating our first Korean holiday without her.
There is something especially strange about experiencing something new while grieving something you wish you could have taken with you.
I’ve been trying to remind myself that both things can exist at the same time.
We can be grateful to be here and still miss home.
We can make memories in Korea and still wish Lucy were part of them.
We can laugh with our boys, explore beautiful places, try something completely new, and still have moments where the sadness catches us off guard.
Maybe that’s what this holiday taught me more than anything.
Life doesn’t stop being hard just because there are beautiful things happening around you.
Sometimes you carry the sadness with you while you go see the garden. You carry it while you make the paper tea tray. You carry it onto the bus and into the next new experience.
And maybe that’s okay.
Our first Chuseok wasn’t exactly what I pictured when we moved to Korea. But it was ours. A new memory for our family, made in a country that is still becoming home.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I found myself feeling incredibly grateful—for this adventure, for my family, for the people we’ve met here, and for the 14 years we were lucky enough to have our girl.
Still figuring it out as we go.
One holiday, one adventure, and one really big loss at a time.
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