My Father Hadn’t Seen My Grandfather’s Face Since He Disappeared in North Korea in 1950 — Until Now (Exclusive Essay)

**Lost and Found: A Family’s Search Through War and Time**

Bora Lee Reed’s family history encapsulates the heartbreaking impact of the Korean War and the enduring hope of reunification. Her grandfather left his home in Pyongyang in the winter of 1950, believing he would return shortly after visiting remote churches he had established. Yet, that journey marked his last moments with his family, shrouded in a shroud of uncertainty that would persist for decades.

As the war unfolded, Pyongyang descended into chaos. While Reed’s grandfather was away, his family—made up of her father, grandmother, and three younger siblings—waited anxiously for his return. The city was bombarded, and as destruction loomed, they were forced to flee without saying goodbye to their home or neighbours. In a tragically naïve act, they concealed an alarm clock and family Bible within the rafters of their house, hopeful they would return to reclaim them. Unfortunately, they never saw their home or patriarch again.

The casualties of war extend beyond physical destruction; they also encompass the deep emotional toll of family separation. Millions of Koreans experienced similar fates, lost to each other amid the conflict’s relentless chaos. Although the distance between North and South Korea spans a mere 120 miles, a formidable border divides not only territory but also families, leaving them isolated for 75 years with scant contact.

Reed’s father and his family became refugees in South Korea, where survival proved difficult. Her grandmother trekked through snow-covered hills, gathering branches to sell to UN troops for firewood. Young and resourceful, Reed’s father did various jobs, from selling salt to working as a labourer, spending nights in abandoned structures. Military interrogations shaped their uncertain existence, with one particular incident resulting in an unexplained week in jail. Over time, tragedy struck again when Reed’s youngest sibling succumbed to illness.

By 1954, however, her father’s family had carved out a semblance of stability amidst the wreckage. It was during this period that he recalled spending time in Jeolla-do in 1943 and hoped to find a photograph of his father, taken by an old acquaintance who had owned a photography studio. Driven by a desire for closure, he undertook a two-day journey to rediscover this friend, but sadly, the studio had become a casualty of the war’s destruction.

Having never had the chance to bid farewell to his father or commit his likeness to memory, the absence of a photograph weighed heavily on Reed’s father. This longing would shape not only his life but also the narrative of Reed’s family.

Years later, having moved to California from South Korea in 1972, Reed’s family tried to build a new life far from the memories of war. During a visit in the 1980s from an elderly pastor who had once lived in Pyongyang, fate stepped in. While reminiscing about their past, the pastor presented an old seminary class photo, an unexpected link to Reed’s grandfather.

Staring at the photograph, Reed’s father experienced a profound moment of connection. The pastor identified the young man in the picture as Lee Hyo Sung—the name of Reed’s grandfather. This startling revelation reignited a flicker of hope within him, one that had never fully extinguished since that fateful separation.

Despite the passage of time and the devastating certainty that his father was likely deceased, Reed’s father remains hopeful. He continues to search for answers and ways to honour his father’s memory, believing that one day, North Korea may open up enough to allow him insights into what happened to his beloved parent.

Reed herself, born long after these events, has woven these experiences into her own identity as a writer. Through her debut novel, “Song for Another Home,” she captures her family’s narrative, juxtaposing the enduring pain of separation with the resilience of hope.

As the country remembers the scars of the past, Reed’s family story serves as a poignant reminder of the personal losses that echo in the wake of conflict. With a small photograph in hand—a symbol of enduring connection—her father’s journey epitomises a search for belonging that transcends borders and generations.