My relationship with my Ji’chan was often like a father and daughter. He offered advice, expressed concerns (like asking how long I could live in a two bedroom apartment as a family of five), gave practical gifts (bike cart for Joe, label machine for me, new winter coats for the boys), cooked enough food so that there we always left overs, and would openly cry when talking about my Ba’chan.

So when people in my family say things like “I miss your father” or “tell your dad I say hello” it reminds me that others saw me in the same way. This doesn’t happen a lot, but when it does, it warms my heart.

Today my Uncle Yo (Ba’chan’s older brother from Chicago) started talking to me about “my father.” He had hoped to see Jich on this visit and shared kind words.
Even at 90 years old, he knew I was not my mother. He knew I was Kamisha and referred to me as my Jich’s daughter.