I've Got Your Six, PA

From the time I was little, my grandpa and I had a special bond that shaped my entire life. He always called me KPJ, a nickname that carried love and pride, and it’s also the name I use for my art and writing. He was my rock, my guide, and my inspiration. My father chose not to be a part of my life, and my mother, struggling with mental health issues and depression, fell into the grip of opioid addiction. It wasn't her fault—it was the system's failure to treat her trauma and abuse, masking her pain with band-aid medications that stripped away her sense of self. But this story isn't about blame. It's about the man who stepped up and took on the role of both parents for me. A roll bigger the he ever had to.

My grandpa, a Korean War veteran, taught me one of the most valuable lessons in life:

"I got your 6." In military talk, it means having someone's back, watching out for them. Throughout the years, we would remind each other of this simple yet profound promise. No matter what happened, we always knew we had each other's backs.

Three months ago, my grandpa was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. The news was devastating, and I became his full-time nurse, juggling his care with raising my four young children. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but also one of the most enlightening. I was able to be there for him, tending to his needs with compassion and love, up until his final breath on June 29th.

Caring for him in his last days was an honor. Despite the physical and emotional challenges, it was a time filled with profound connection and love. He couldn't walk, and his body was failing him, but our bond grew even more stronger. I took care of him with the same unwavering dedication he had shown me all my life.

A few days before he passed we shared the most special most, i was tucking in him getting him around for bed. I had fed him some ice cream since it was the only thing he could eat. I read him the children's story I wrote about him and I... "KPJ's Walkabouts With PA" I hadn't read it to him yet, he had been reading it almost everyday up until his brain couldn't comprehend reading anymore. And the most stolid, strongest, smartest man I've ever known, shed tears as we ended the book. I held his hands and I looked at him, and I said, "I will forever be grateful for you walking me through life. And i'm glad I could be here to walk you through to the end of yours. I got your six, pa." He had me promise I would publish my book and his. And I did. He said, KPJ, "You are going to move mountains, you don't even know the impact your beautiful brain is going to make one day".

A few days later as he took his last breath, squeezing my hand with his long fingered tight boney grip, I whispered to him, "I got your 6, PA." It was the last thing I said to him, and it felt right. He had always had my back, and in the end, I had his. I sent him off to heaven with a heart full of gratitude and love, knowing that I had fulfilled the promise we made to each other so many years ago, when I was, well, 6.

My grandpa's legacy lives on in my heart and in my work. He taught me resilience, love, and the true meaning of having someone's back. Through my art and writing, I carry his spirit with me, honoring the man who shaped my life and inspired me to be the best version of myself and to never be afraid to stand for what I believe in..

PA, I got your 6, always and forever. And t

hanks for always having mine.