Eddie JongHyuk Park

Obituary Eddie J. Park 1970–2025

On a quiet spring evening in 1970, when the cherry blossoms were scattering in full bloom, a child was born in a modest district of Seoul, Korea. From the start he was a fragile boy, often surrounded by flies that seemed mysteriously drawn to his eyes. Unaware of his poor eyesight, he grew up seeing the unseen, perceiving more of the invisible world than the visible one.

As he entered adolescence, he wandered through life wide-eyed with curiosity, forever searching for the unknown. Gifted enough to rise to the top of his class, he was once caught “copying” from a classmate. But what he was truly doing was copying the teacher’s writing from the board, words he could not make out with his weak eyes. Only then did he begin wearing glasses. Even so, he remained a dreamer, always gazing forward, as if trying to glimpse some deeper truth hidden in the fog.

In 1985, his life shifted to America with his family. There, he failed nearly every subject except math, a language of symbols that needed no words. Determined, he began reading English aloud in every textbook including physics and math, line by line, until he turned his grades back into straight A’s. Soon, he became his parents’ ears and mouth in English, setting him on a path that would shape his life as a translator and interpreter.

In his early twenties, he returned to Korea for a year, living in a Buddhist temple. There he found joy in being a doban, “a spiritual friend.” A philosopher at heart, he believed in reflecting the image of one person to another, like a mirror of shared truth. He was happiest not at the center but in between, serving as a bridge, a mediator.

In 2006, he married his soul mate Jae-Soon Lee, whom he dated and courted since 2001, the first day at Graduate School of Translation and Interpretation, MIIS. They were both translation majors. In 2007, an adorable son Kale was born, now eighteen; in 2010, a princess daughter Yulie, soon-to-be fifteen.

A fast learner with an independent spirit, he taught himself golf, guided only by the writings of Ben Hogan. In time, he found fulfillment in guiding beginners, not just a few, but dozens, successfully including his wife, always with patience and care. He refused to take an easy path, constantly challenging himself and shunning the comfort of ease. Time and again, he willingly placed himself at a disadvantage, not out of recklessness, but out of principle, to stand up for the powerless.

At the heart of his life, through every pursuit and every season, remained one constant: “Love.” Love for people, love for connection, and love that endures still, even after his passing.