Sang Joo Han

Dr. Sang Joo Han, died exactly as he lived, with dignity and grace. Even in his last days, my father had his sweet and mischievous smile.. that signature twinkle in his eye.. and he showed incredible strength and unwavering love. When I went to the hospital 48 hours before his passing, he kept telling me, “I love you. Now go home. You have things to do. Don’t worry about me.” Classic Dad. He showed me he loved me every single day. When he was declining physically and mentally, he still expressed concern only for my well-being, and he never complained. He asked for nothing and gave everything. When I picked him up for dinner or a long drive, I could tell that he was tired but had shored up all of his energy to give to me and to make our times together meaningful and possible. There was not a kinder, more selfless man, and I am the luckiest girl in the world to be the beneficiary of his goodness. 

Dad taught me everything.. from how to ride a bike.. to how to live a life with purpose. When I was thinking about a career, he said I should figure out what I love to do and then figure out how to make a living doing it. He also said that my ultimate goal shouldn’t be to make money but to make an impact and, most importantly, to serve the community. Dad was a tremendously patient teacher, and human… but the one thing he couldn’t teach me is how to drive! It is the only time I’ve ever seen him nervous. He was wide-eyed and white-knuckled, and our lesson lasted about 5 minutes. The job ultimately fell to my friend’s dad.. good ol’ Phil Caruso.

Everyone who knew my dad talks about how gentle, polite and funny he was. He had a quick, dry wit, and while he was soft-spoken and said little (until he’d had a couple drinks), when he did speak, he would drop either a perfect nugget of wisdom or shoot a witty zinger and you wouldn’t know what hit you. He also had his signature lines. When I would ask, “How are you?” the last couple years, he would respond by saying either, “Still alive!” or “I was fine until you got here!” Of course, that was after he had already greeted me by saying, “Hi. I’ve missed you. I love you.” 

My father was brilliant and humble. He spoke four languages fluently, one of them completely self-taught. He was born and raised in Seoul, Korea, and went to Kyunggi High School and Seoul National University.  They are arguably the most prestigious schools in the country but, when I was growing up, Dad rarely told others that they were his alma maters and told me not to make a big deal about them either.  Dad came to the United States to get his PhD at Rutgers University, where he co-authored pioneering work on Kentucky bluegrass reproduction and breeding.  Dad also got his MBA while he was working full time and raising me. I remember him studying and going to class when I was a little girl.

Dad met my mom, Hwang Joung Kim Han, whom he treated like the queen she was, in Washington D.C. Together they moved to Ventura County, California, shortly before I was born. Burpee Seed Company, where he worked as a plant pathologist, researcher and breeder, transferred Dad there from Doylestown, Pennsylvania,. He developed an improved hybrid of Burpee’s classic beefsteak tomato so if you bite into a giant Supersteak, know that you could be eating my dad’s tomato!

Dad had an expansive view of our small world and it served him and everyone he touched very well. He moved to Japan to be the Executive Director of Research for Mikado Seed Growers when I was in high school and helped Mikado merge with a French company. He ended his career as Executive Director of Seoul Seed International in South Korea.  Before he worked for Burpee Seed Company, Dad did research in Puerto Rico, and became best friends with a Puerto Rican couple. The wife is my namesake and says my dad made the best barbecue beef she’s ever had. 

Dad believed in diversity, equity, and inclusion before those were common words, and he wanted to do his part to bring different cultures together. He celebrated differences while also finding common ground. He also instilled in me a deep pride in being Korean American. He said that if I wanted to be truly American, I had to understand, embrace, and honor the roots of our Korean ancestors. Later he passed along our traditions to his grandchildren, making mandoo (Korean dumplings) with them and buying them Korean children’s song books and encouraging them to learn Hangul, the Korean language. 

Dad traveled all over the globe for work, and sent me and my mom to Europe for an entire month after I graduated high school. After Mom passed, Dad and I enjoyed daddy-daughter trips to Cuba and Spain. We also traveled with my husband, and later our children – Dad’s grandchildren – to places that included Iceland, Portugal, Morocco, and China. My father was the best travel partner – curious, energetic, and always fun.

Dad was a renaissance man and a real romantic. He loved to cook and often brought home flowers for my mom and me. I once caught him writing my mom a poem, and he always held her hand. My father enjoyed taking us shopping and watching us “model” outfits. He often bought us jewelry, and in his later years, he made me and his granddaughter earrings and necklaces at his senior activity center. Dad loved classical music and poetry, and while he never seemed to care about what he wore as a young man, he developed a dapper style as a senior citizen and would often ask me if he looked “presentable,” saying, with a wink years after my mom passed, that he needed to look sharp in case we ran into any of his “girlfriends.”   

My entire life Dad was my biggest cheerleader and beamed with pride at even my smallest accomplishments. When he moved to Philadelphia, I hung paintings on his walls. He took most of them down and hung my old piano award certificates and a copy of my honorary doctorate in their place. He even once asked if I could get him a copy of my Emmy statue to put in his condo! He made me feel seen. I just found in his condo a Korean poem I wrote out and framed for him for his birthday in 2017.  The English translation is, “The reason why I love you is that nobody understands as thoroughly or as deeply my soul as you do.”

Dad was also very tech-savvy.  He figured out how to make words disappear in text before I did, and he was the Emoji King!

But perhaps the thing I will cherish most about my father is that Dad was profoundly grateful, and he expressed his thanks and appreciation every single day – to me.. to his son-in-law and grandchildren.. to his caregivers.. and to anyone who opened the door for him, both literally and figuratively.

And Dad continues to be my greatest teacher. When his memory was fading due to dementia, Dad taught me to be patient and present, and to live in and for the moment. In death, Dad is reminding me that life is unpredictable and we have to make every single minute count. 

Dad passed away peacefully on June 25, 2026, at the age of 86.

I will miss him every day for the rest of my life.

I know that this is an unusual obituary but it feels fitting for a one-of-a-kind man.

Written with Love and Deep Gratitude Always,

Nydia Han

A memorial service will be held for Dr. Han on Saturday, August 15th, at 11:00 am at Camarillo Korean United Methodist Church at 300 Mission Drive in Ventura County, California. In lieu of flowers, the family would appreciate contributions made in his memory to either The Welcoming Center at www.welcomingcenter.org or Penn Asian Senior Services at www.passi.us