

She was born in Nonsan, a mountain village in South Korea, to the Shin family of Pyung San. She later lived in Seoul until 1976 when she and our father immigrated from South Korea to the United States. They left one life to begin a new one for us, their four children, on the other side of the world. Our mother was 48 when she started life again from scratch: new home, new language, new future. Our parents' audacious move is inspirational proof that it’s never too late for ambitions as long as you are willing to put in the work.
All her life, our mother stayed active and rarely sat still. She owned and operated Chin’s Coin Laundry on Riverdale Road near Hartsfield Airport for 15 years. She was a meticulous craftsperson, and she was crafty. Her hands were rarely at rest. For customers, she mended and tailored clothing with the eye of a designer. For us, she knitted beautiful sweaters and blankets with twisting complicated patterns. Her mind was rarely at rest. She was an avid reader and tinkerer. Fabric, buttons, boxes, or random sundry things were organized and stored neatly and eventually reused in some novel way to solve whatever small problem or just in case a need arose. One summer early in her retirement, she installed a straight row of disposable forks in a garden bed to keep the mulch from washing away in the rain. We laughed, and her fence of forks became the icon of her resourcefulness and creative mind.
Our mother was strong and resilient. She overcame hardships with stoic calm and possessed a progressive attitude, especially emphasizing women’s agency and responsibility to be independent and competent. She was incredibly intuitive and could read people with strange accuracy. Her smile charmed people, and her stink eye silently enforced her expectations. Her cooking improved as she finally had time to enjoy the process. Her table was where we all gathered, often being sent away with food or returning with empty containers. Feeding us was her love language. She learned how to use an iPad at 85, the first computer she’d ever used. Through her nineties, she remained sharp and observant as she tended to her vegetable garden, fruit trees, and house plants through the seasons. Grandchildren were born, then great-grandchildren came along. She loved snacks and curated an impressive collection of jars and boxes of candies and snacks which earned her the nickname, Kka Kka Halmoni.
As our extended family grew and regardless of where anyone moved near or far, our mother was the center that drew us back together with Korean traditions that she did not want us to forget. Chin Suk Yi is survived by her four children, their partners and children, and great-grandchildren, as well as, family in the United States and South Korea. Our mother lives on in the mannerisms we make, attitudes we hold, and the lives that she beautifully crafted for all of us.
Chin Suk Yi will be buried next to our father at Sherwood Memorial Park in Jonesboro, Georgia. A private service will be conducted with family.
In lieu of flowers, we request you honor our mother’s memory by nurturing your garden or donating directly to Trees Atlanta.
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