My son’s wife didn’t know I spoke Korean. When I heard what she said about me at that dinner…

A Widow’s Secret and the Shadow of Disrespect

My son’s wife didn’t know I’d been learning Korean for the past 8 months. When I overheard what she said about me to his business clients at that dinner, I realized my late husband had been right about her all along.

I just wish I’d listened sooner. I’m Margaret Chen, I’m 64 years old, and until recently I thought I’d figured out how to navigate the complicated waters of being a widow, a mother, and a grandmother.

My husband Paul died four years ago from a sudden heart attack. He was only 62.

We’d been married for 40 years. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life grieving quietly in the house we’d shared in Naperville, just outside Chicago.

But grief is a strange thing. It doesn’t actually kill you, even when you wish it would.

Eventually, you have to figure out how to keep living. I worked as a high school English teacher for 35 years before retiring three years ago.

Paul and I had planned to travel to Italy, Greece, and Japan. These were all the places we’d put off while raising our son Daniel and building our careers.

The trips never happened. I have a folder full of unused plane tickets and hotel reservations printed out and tucked away in my desk drawer.

Sometimes I take them out and read them, imagining what might have been. After Paul died, I threw myself into being useful.

I helped Daniel and his wife Lisa with their two kids, Emily who’s 12 and Jack who’s nine. I picked them up from school twice a week.

I made dinners and I attended every soccer game, piano recital, and school play. I thought I was being helpful.

I thought they needed me. Lisa never said otherwise.

She smiled and thanked me. She let me babysit and she invited me to family dinners.

But there was something in her eyes sometimes, a flash of irritation quickly masked. I told myself I was imagining it.

Paul used to say I was too sensitive and that I read too much into things.

“But Paul had also said right before we met Lisa for the first time 10 years ago” “She’s not warm, Maggie. Watch yourself with this one.”

“I’d brushed him off” “You’re being overprotective of Daniel, maybe.”

“He’d said” “But I’ve met a lot of people in my life and I can usually tell within 5 minutes if someone has kindness in them. She doesn’t.”

I’d thought he was wrong. I’d tried so hard to build a relationship with Lisa, but after Paul died, things shifted.

Small comments appeared here and there.

“She would say when I’d show up for dinner” “Oh, you’re here again.”

“She would say” “The kids don’t really need a babysitter anymore, Margaret.”

Calls went unreturned and invitations became less frequent. Daniel seemed oblivious as he traveled constantly for work.

He’d started his own tech consulting firm 5 years ago and it had taken off beyond anyone’s expectations. He was always flying to San Francisco, New York, and Seoul.

Especially Seoul. He’d been working on a major deal with a Korean tech company for almost a year.

That’s actually how I started learning Korean. It began with Emily.

My granddaughter became obsessed with Kdramas last year. She’d watch them for hours, these romantic, dramatic shows from South Korea.

She’d try to teach me Korean words.

“She would say” “Sarangi means I love you, Grandma. Anyong means hello.”

I humored her at first. But then one Saturday afternoon, I was at the library, the place where I’d spent so much of my career.

I saw they were offering a beginning Korean class. The instructor was a woman about my age named Susan, who’d married a Korean man 40 years ago and raised their kids bilingual.

“Susan said during the first class” “It’s never too late to learn something new.”

“She continued” “Learning a language keeps your mind sharp plus it’s a gift. You see the world differently when you can understand another culture’s language.”

I thought about Paul and about all those trips we’d never taken. I thought about how he’d always wanted to learn Italian but never made the time.

Life is so short. I signed up for the full 8-week course and then I kept going.

I downloaded Duolingo. I watched Kdramas with Emily, actually trying to pick up phrases instead of just reading the subtitles.

I found a conversation partner online, a kind woman in Seoul who wanted to practice her English. We’d video chat twice a week.

She’d teach me about Korean culture and the importance of respect for elders. She taught me the complex hierarchy in relationships and business in Korea.

“She told me once” “We have a saying: a family with an old person has a jewel. Elders are treasured for their wisdom and experience.”

I found that beautiful and ironic given how invisible I’d started to feel in my own family. I didn’t tell anyone about the Korean lessons.

It felt private, like something just for me. Emily knew I was watching Kdramas with her, but she didn’t know I was actually studying seriously.

Daniel was too busy to notice. And Lisa, well, Lisa barely spoke to me unless she needed something.

Which is why I was surprised when Lisa called me 3 weeks ago.

“Margaret, I need a favor, she said without preamble” “Daniel’s having a big business dinner next Friday. The Korean executives are flying in from Seoul to finalize the contract.”

“She continued” “It’s a huge deal worth millions. We’re taking them to Bansong, you know, that expensive Korean restaurant downtown.”

“I said” “That’s wonderful. Congratulations to Daniel.”

“The thing is, Lisa continued” “We need to make a good impression. Family is very important in Korean culture and Mr. Kim, the CEO, specifically asked if Daniel’s parents would be there.”

“She added” “Obviously Paul is gone, but I told them you’d come.”

My heart lifted slightly at the invitation and the chance to be included.

“I said” “I’d love to come.”

“Lisa said” “Great. Just, you know, dress nicely.”

“And Margaret, her voice took on that tone, the one that made my spine stiffen” “Maybe just smile and be pleasant. Don’t talk too much about teaching or books or whatever. These are business people, try not to bore them.”

I felt the familiar sting but pushed it down.

“I said” “Of course.”

“She said” “Perfect. We’ll pick you up at 6:00.”

That was it. There was no warmth and no thank you, just instructions on how to behave so I wouldn’t embarrass her.