MISS JASMINE CHO 3RD DEGREE

The Prodigal Father 

When asked to write an article sharing my experiences as being the daughter of a world renowned martial arts legend, I pondered many different personal stories I might be able to share. The fact that my father is revered as The Grandmaster Hee Il Cho tends to make people assume that my life must be incredibly unique. Many correctly guess that it usually scares all the boys away, and it may be entertaining to some that my dad will tell me to run five laps if I complain that I’m cold, hungry, or tired (in the most lovingly humorous yet serious manner, of course). In actuality, I hope to believe that my life is not so uniquely different than that of any other child, because really, I am simply a daughter immensely loved by her father.

When I think of my father, and when I try to help others understand what it’s like to grow up with him as a father and not a martial arts icon, I can’t help but think of the parable of “The Prodigal Son.” Regardless of your religious or non-religious background, more than likely you would still be familiar with the story of the son who shamefully squanders away his father’s inheritance. Only after the son hits rock bottom does he realize his mistakes and returns to his father to confess his wrongdoing with hopes to gain mercy and a second chance. The moving climax of the parable comes when the father runs to meet his son, passionately embraces him and, instead of dealing out a punishment appropriate for what the son did, the father throws a huge feast to celebrate the fact that his son was once lost but had finally returned. This is how the story of “The Prodigal Son” is also frequently misinterpreted as the story of “The Lost Son.”

The actual definition of the word “prodigal” means recklessly extravagant or lavishly abundant. It pertains to the recklessly extravagant ways the son spent his father’s wealth. However, there is another prodigal character in this story that is often overlooked, and that is the father who showed an extravagant example of both love and compassion. While I see myself as the prodigal child who never fully realizes her blessings and ends up squandering away her privileges, I see my father as the one waiting with lavishly abundant faith in me and my better self.

Growing up, I know I have read only a fraction of the letters and notes my dad received over the years. They are sent by students old and new who remember my dad and are thankful to him for being such a source of inspiration and kindness when they most needed it in their lives. Many people know my father as a man of good character and generosity, but I don’t think people realize to what extent. I know this, not only because I have seen so many people receive his generosity only to unfairly return spite and indifference, but also because I never fully quite grasped it for myself until the moment his love finally permeated through my own shallow understanding.

It was when my father could not run to me physically nor embrace me with his arms. It was the first time I saw him after his open heart surgery.  His body lay weak in the hospital bed, and I stood frozen at the door of his room. He looked helplessly surrendered to an army of tubes that were in attack on his body, and his eyes looked like they were severely struggling to stay open. It is still difficult to return back to the feelings of shock and pain I felt to see my indomitable father in such a way. Right as the glass walls of my childhood understandings of “daddy” seemed to shatter, my father let out his first words through short spurts of breath that seemed to drain him, “I can’t let Jasmine go through this too.”

My father being such a machine whose stamina always out beat his students’ (and mine) made me naively oblivious to his fragility hidden behind the enormous depth of his inner strength – his love, his determination, his discipline, his sacrifice, his selflessness.  I was speechless and broken to hear my dad’s first words post surgery being about me not having to go through the same pain as he was enduring. Words tend to be an overflow of one’s heart, and what my father uttered beneath his breath was pure love and concern for his daughter. All the “small” memories that I never stopped long enough to reflect on before began to furiously flood my mind - the countless ways my father tried to express his love for a daughter he painfully cherished.

My dad is truly the prodigal father. He is extravagant and lavishly abundant in every good way possible. This is how he is known as a martial artist throughout the world, and he is no different as a father caring for his children.

My father and I, just like I would presume any other father-daughter relationship to be, have been through rougher times, where we butted heads from convincing ourselves that neither person fully understood the other. However, now that I’ve become older and my father even older, we both know that there is no one else in this world who could understand our hearts in the way we can understand each other’s.

I understand that my father is a gentle-hearted, ordinary person rooted in humility who has become extraordinary through his never-ending, extravagant life efforts that can’t be explained by any other word than superhuman. When recovery normally takes months for people, my father walked back into class to be with his students a week after his triple bypass open heart operation. He’s told me of the times he tried to work out after his operation while having to deal with the inconvenience of a bleeding chest scar. 

My father’s entire life is marked with “superhuman” events like this. Yet, the extravagant fervor he lives with each day of his life is not driven by a desire to be set on a pedestal above others. He is driven by an intense belief that generations can follow after his humble example of excellence. My father always tells his students, “If I can do it, you can do it too.” It is not these words, but his actions that speak an unparalleled power that shakes something to life within every person he meets. His lavishly abundant and extravagant taste for life is the way he guides his students as a prodigal Master, and in the way he guides me as a prodigal father.

I know I was asked to also provide a deeper introduction to who I am as a focus for this article, but who I am, who I was, and who I aspire to be all inseparably stem from the respect, admiration, and love I have for my father.  

Jasmine Cho began training at the age of four and is currently a 3^rd Degree Black Belt. She serves as the AIMAA Program Administrator and is presently pursuing university studies and working in the nonprofit sector in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Jasmine Cho can be reached at aimaahq@aol.com.