Seated in the front row, middle seats, my hand gently held by my father, I felt the world unfold before me like an intricate melody. The grand piano’s notes from Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 3 filled the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, each note soaring through the air and enveloping us in a warm embrace. Beside me, my father, whose eyes sparkled with quiet appreciation, squeezed my hand ever so slightly – a silent gesture that conveyed the essence of life: the art, the knowledge, the beauty. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just the music, the grandeur of Yuja Wang at the piano, and Gustavo Dudamel conducting the orchestra, as though the universe had conspired to give us this perfect memory together. 

Growing up, my world was a symphony of new experiences, traveling to different countries, immersing myself in new languages, and wandering through the hallowed halls of renowned museums. Yet, none of these moments were fleeting encounters; they were keys my father handed to me, unlocking doors to endless knowledge.  Each museum visit and concert we attended became more than just a cultural experience; they served as profound reminders of the vastness of the world and the noble pursuit of understanding and learning. My father, a man with three master’s degrees and a Ph.D., not only embodied wisdom but also radiated humility. To him, knowledge was not a treasure to be hoarded but a precious gift meant to be shared. He believed that the greatest inheritance he could pass on was his knowledge, and his unwavering generosity in sharing it reflected his deep faith and commitment to uplifting others. 

But on March 16, 2021, my world, once brimming with knowledge and discovery, was suddenly overshadowed by loss. The vibrant symphony of our lives together transformed into a deafening silence. My home, once filled with music, laughter, and conversation, now felt cold and desolate. The warmth of his hands, which had always steadied me, was gone, leaving behind an overwhelming sense of grief.

Yet, in the depths of that grief, a flicker of hope began to stir within me. A quiet voice, nearly buried beneath the weight of sorrow, grew louder after my mother, an ESL teacher, asked if I would be willing to help some of her middle school students. Though I hadn’t witnessed their struggles firsthand, I knew their battles all too well, recalling my own journey as a third grader newly arrived in the United States, navigating the complexities of a new culture and unfamiliar landscape. Unlike them, however, I had the privilege of unwavering support; my parents, especially my father, equipped me with the resources and knowledge I need to thrive. I realized that by helping these students, I could keep my father’s legacy alive. In each lesson I taught, I sought to share, in my own way, the opportunities my dad had once gifted me. In that shared experience, I found my purpose.

So, I started a program. Each Wednesday morning, I worked with middle school ESL students, helping them with math and English. What began as a small tutoring effort quickly grew into something much more meaningful. I witnessed profound transformation—not just in the students’ growing comprehension of math and English, but in the way their eyes lit up with possibility. It felt as though, in sharing knowledge, I was reigniting the light my father had kindled in me. I could almost feel my father’s presence beside me, guiding my efforts as I guided them. 

With each session, I experienced the healing power of passing on what I had learned. In the faces of those students, I saw glimpses of my younger self—eager, curious, and hungry for knowledge. In those moments, I understood something profound: the greatest inheritance wasn’t merely the knowledge itself, but the fervent desire to share it with others. Through this program, I wasn’t just helping them academically; I was showing them that they could succeed, that they, too, could unlock the doors to endless opportunities, just as my father had once done for me.

I’ll never forget the conversation I had with my father as we drove back from the Walt Disney Concert Hall. His voice resonated with warmth, and his eyes, framed by a profound love for me, gleamed with wisdom. “The greatest inheritance I can give you is knowledge,” he said, his hand resting gently on mine as we waited for the stoplight to turn green.

“Okay, Dad, ” I replied, unaware of the true meaning behind his words or the profound impact they would later have on my life.

Now, three years later, I see how the seeds my father planted have blossomed. Just as he opened the world for me, I am now fortunate to, in some small way, do the same for every student I help; their small victories stand as a testament to my father’s lasting impact. As I work toward my Associate of Arts Degree while still in high school and complete my Capstone Diploma, I feel an even deeper connection to the legacy he left behind. His thirst for knowledge was not solely about acquiring it; it was about sharing it, enriching the lives of others in the process. In nurturing curiosity and understanding in those around me, I have come to realize that knowledge is most powerful when shared, creating a ripple effect capable of transforming lives. In this realization, I have discovered that my purpose is to become a teacher—one who not only imparts knowledge but also awakens it in others, ensuring that the music of my father’s legacy continues to resonate through every student, allowing the melody to play on, ever-present and enduring.