Live Well, Love Much, Laugh Often

 My husband’s sister, Kimberly Sue Wynn, died on May 1, 2024. 

Kim was born with every card in the deck stacked against her.  Born of unknown parents, on an unknown date in an unknown place in South Korea any reasonable person would say that she had no chance for a good life.  It was not unheard of for unwanted Korean babies (especially girls) to be left on the roadside to die from exposure.  Indeed, a Korean child who did not have a Korean man declare himself as father did not even have citizenship. 

But either Kim’s mother, or her family, made a critical choice, and placed Kim in the receiving bin of an orphanage.  The orphanage offered her life, though it would be a half-life at best.  She would be given marginal care, marginal food, marginal education.  She would be trained for a life of servitude, with virtually no opportunity for marriage or a family of her own.  But once again, fate took a hand.

Half a world away, a family that embodied the best this country offers, decided to add to their family by adopting a Korean orphan.  Not knowing exactly how to go about this, they wrote to Dear Abby.  Back came an envelope with a sheaf of papers telling them how to begin this arduous process.  But the contacts were made, the forms filled out, and the adoption was accomplished.  Keep in mind, this was not done with a computer and instant access email.  This was done by typing letters, putting a stamp on an envelope, and waiting, waiting, waiting.

But the wait was worth it, because in that orphanage, among all the possibilities and against all odds, Kim—our Kim—was selected as the child who would go to America. 

Kimberly arrived in America at the age of 3, a solemn, quiet child speaking not one word of English.  Her parents selected not just a name, but a birthdate for her, because none was recorded.  In America, Kim thrived.  She not only embraced the American experience, she WAS the American experience: a cheerleader in high school, popular, eager to live life to the fullest, well-loved by everyone.  She made, had and kept close friends. 

She went to cosmetology school and ended up owning her own beauty salon.  She knew virtually everyone in the small town of Warrenton, Missouri.  She married, had two boys who were the delight of her soul, and became a universal source for cheer, understanding and good will.   

The result of that life is that at her funeral, the girl who was born with no chance at all, had hundreds of people come to mourn her loss. The cruel cancer which took her life at only 58 years of age only made her death the more compelling to honor.  Friends and family came from as far away as Italy, from six different states across this nation, all for a tiny, sweet child born somewhere in Korea, with no chance at all. 

Three days before her death, she found out that she was to be a grandmother for the first time.  Her son swore her to secrecy at the announcement.  Kim agreed, and then told everybody.   That baby boy, born seven months after her death, is the happiest child I have ever seen.  He has his grandmother’s ready smile.

When I think of all that we have lost, I must also think of all we have gained.  And when I feel anger at what seems to be a lack of justice, that such a thoroughly decent person should have to suffer so, I think of Kim’s smile and all I feel is love.

Live well, love much, laugh often, and keep the faith. For Kim

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