I Will Never Forget…
I met Eddie my freshman year at U. of I. He was a softspoken, shy guy, but the minute I started talking to him I knew he would become one of those friends that never left my side.
A week after we met, he drove me & some other friends to Chicago from Champaign, for no reason other than his friends’ needs to make the 2-1/2 hour trek to the city. It didn’t matter that his license plates were expired or that he didn’t renew his insurance; after all, he was the only one of us who had a car.
That trip paved the way for many years of random acts of kindness.
Throughout college, he was always there, ready to help wherever, whenever… I looked to him as an Oppa, or older brother; he called me his Nene.
Eddie nursed me through my first major heartbreak, received god knows how many parking tickets while helping me run errands, & listened without judgement when I needed a friend.
I was so sad when he moved back to SoCal to live with his mom my junior year.
At his goodbye dinner: “Don’t worry Nene, it’s not that far; I’ll always be around.”
But fate brought me to Hell-A the summer before my senior year… and every weekend, Eddie picked me up from the Valley & made sure my summer in SoCal was entertaining. Several times he brought me the most thoughtful gifts: new work appropriate sweaters (my wardrobe then consisted of huge pants & tiny anime T-shirts), an adorable chickadee car decoration that lived on the dashboard of my Saturn for years, & a huge stuffed Tiger to keep me company during moments of loneliness, which I still hug on occasion today.
He returned to Chicago for a few visits after I graduated, & each time I saw him, he seemed to detach himself a bit more, but I knew his loyalty remained.
Eddie life’s tragically ended on September 10, 2006. We hadn’t spoken in several years, but I still remember:
his bashful smile,
his gentle spirit,
his devoted friendship.
You are in a much better place now, Oppa. We miss you.
September 15th, 2006 at 6:51 am
It has been several years since I had last spoken to or had contact with Eddie. The things I do remember, however, were all positive. He would do anything for his friends. He was the type of guy who would do you a favor without expecting anything in return. One of most kind hearted guys you will ever meet. I’ve had the honor of having Eddie as a friend at some point in my life, and I will always remember those times. Rest in peace.
Grant Wu
September 15th, 2006 at 9:06 am
I only met Eddie a handful of times but he was one of the nicest guys that I met through my sister. Although I didn’t know him very well, my sister always talked about him and truly regarded him as a friend. For me, the act of him befriending my sister means the world to me because he meant a lot to her. To his family, I will remember him as a gentle, loving man and a true friend to my sister.
Rest in peace, Eddie.
Love always,
Lynn Hilao
September 15th, 2006 at 10:40 am
It seemed like yesterday back in Chicago when Eddie befriended me. Even though it’s been years since we exchanged words, I will remember him for his gentle heartfelt attributes. Our differences have been forgotten and only the good memories remain.
Rest in peace.
Ranee Wu
September 15th, 2006 at 11:58 am
Jamie,
This site is truly thoughtful.
Memories of Eddie Han…where to begin?
When he ventured back to Chicago and lived out here for a little over a year before he finally went back to Cali…Eddie and I took a fishing road trip…it was March of (I think) ‘02 ~ those days are such a blur…anyhow we were heading down to the Ozarks. The moment that we started on the highway, it began to snow and I mean snow. With the spirit of Mary Jane and the fact of driving without directions, I began to panic, worrying about the snow and wondering if was such a good idea to leave at 1 or 2 am to go fishing down in un-chartered territories…
“Eddie, it’s snowing, dude.”
“yeah”, replied Eddie.
“Dude, let’s turn around and head home?”
“Relax, we’re going fishing and everything is gonna be alright, Jin.”
And with that we were off…
I tell ya, that was the only time that I have ever gone fishing (on a trip) where we caught absolutely nothing…but had the greatest of times.
We came to a railroad crossing…where a sioux line was passing us and we waited and waited for what seemed to be an eternity…finally, I dared him to jump on the train…
The train moving at the pace of what seemed to be very tortoise-like ~ in actually, it was still moving at about 15 mph ~ seemed to be an easy dare to accomplish.
“You don’t think I’ll do it!”
“No, I know you would but I just don’t think that you would do it right now.”
“oh, you don’t think I will do it…right now…”
Before I could speak, Eddie is in front of the train…on this old country, gravel road with nothing around for miles (man verses train)…lunging for cart after cart. I sit watching on sunny pasture filled day, in a roar of laughter, anticipating self admitted defeat. After about 20 carts and 20 half attempts to jump aboard, finally the caboose arrives…like the song you hear when watching edited footage of championship sport highlights enters and life slows down a notch, the slow motion cam zooms in and watches pride set in and I see Eddie this time, whole heartedly jump for the train…
Eddie lived his life this way~never scared to try something new or different. He never wanted to let any of his friends down and most of all he just wanted to be understood. I understand you, brotha. I hope that memories of good friends live on and such moments are taken with you and you always remember them.
I hope that it helps to allow you to Rest in Peace, knowing that you had people who cared about you and always will. I remember you as a good friend.
Jin
September 15th, 2006 at 1:57 pm
That’s so true that Eddie wasn’t scared of anything. He even let me drive his car when I was 15 years old and only had a permit all the way to Steve Han’s house in the boonies at the time. No one else trusted me….and had ever reason not to. But I remember Eddie told me, “You’ll never learn unless you practice, and if no one will let you drive their car, you can drive mine.” I’m sure Steve remembers that it was an unpleasant drive. Not only were we chased by people with bats, but I couldn’t seem to stay in my lane.
When we were young, Eddie called me “little sister”, as he called many people. I used to poke fun at him for having so many “little sisters”, but really, it was only because he truly loved taking care of people and making sure people were ok.
I know I haven’t seen or spoken to Eddie in a long time, but he will always be remembered as a great guy, and as someone who just wanted to make sure that everyone else was okay before himself. My heart goes out to his family. Rest in peace, Eddie.
September 18th, 2006 at 4:11 pm
Jamie, your blog brought back memories of my visit that summer, and hanging out on Melrose with you and Eddie. Thanks for bringing all this back for us. Rest in peace Eddie, we all are thinking of you and your family.
September 19th, 2006 at 10:54 pm
“Because everything of value that we will know in this life comes from our relationships with those around us. Because there is nothing material that measures against the intangibles of love and friendship. Thus, we must overcome that selfishness, we must try to rip open the that which is in our mind that says I am not selfish, with biased logic of the self. Not to just listen and hear but to truly comprehend without tinges of arrogance and self importance.
“Yet my emotions were real, very real, and I recognized and understood them, if not their source. Now, in reflection, I recognize that source. I have seen the failures of self-indulgence, I have run from the world. I would rather have my physical heart torn from my chest, then have my heart of hearts, the essence of who I am as Ed, the empathy and the need to belong to something bigger than my corporeal form, destroyed.
“They are a curious thing, these emotions, How they fly in the face of logic, how they overrule the most basic instincts. Because, in the measure of time, in the measure of humanity, we sense those self-indulgent instincts to be weakness, we sense that the needs of the whole must outweigh the needs of the one. Only when we admit to our failures and recognize our weakness can we rise above them but most importantly, more than even admitting and recognizing, that is we must then try to correct our self-indulgent nature.”
Ed wrote that to me in a letter back in March of 1998. It captures what he believed in, the values he lived by everyday. He always put everyone else’s needs ahead of his own. He asked for nothing, but gave so much of himself. Whether it was a ride to anywhere in the world, or the last dollar he hand to lend, he never gave it a second thought.
He often said he wasn’t meant to be born in this period. That he belonged in the times of knights and maidens in need of rescue. Where chivalry and honor were the currency that men were measured upon. He envisioned himself to be the Squire from The Canterbury Tales. At the time I’d roll my eyes and tease him mercilessly. Looking back, he really was just a displaced romantic.
I’ll miss you Ed, you truly are an original. I wish I could have done so much more… I know you forgive all, but just know I loved you as a brother. I know you never feared death, so I hope you’ve finally found peace.
Random Ed-
-He always carried around the same leather backpack that weighed 40lbs for at least a decade.
-Sometimes he’d give homeless people money, and not just spare change. One time however, he gave a bum $5 and the bum gave it right back, telling Ed he needed it more.
-I told him he should see Forrest Gump, and he said “I refuse to watch a movie about a retard that runs across America.” Not the answer I was expecting from someone so open minded.
-When he first got his Sentra, he installed a pretty expensive system with a lot of bass. He never needed it though, since all he would blast is new wave like The Cure, Depeche Mode, or even OMD.
-There was an ideal girl he’d always dream of. He called her his “New Wave Girl” and she’d be dressed all in black, with fishnets and Doc Martens. She would be into vampirism or at the very least would be part of a coven.
-I tried to quit smoking and bought nicotine patches. He told me he wanted a few and I asked if he wanted to quit too. Instead he put a couple on and lit up a cigarette. He then smiled at me and said “it’s a pretty good buzz.”
-His few of his heroes were Marquis de Sade, Jack Kerouac, and The Sandman.