- J
Early in the summer of last year, I was walking down the church stairs to the lunch hall on a particularly humid day. Florida summers are always hot, but especially so for skinny jeans-clad worship band leaders. We sweat from the minute that soundcheck starts, on stage through the set, and all the way through lunch.
Wiping some moisture off of my brow, I flung open the cafeteria door. I was met by a flurry of cackling children, who nearly run me over in their impromptu game of tag. I could feel a corner of my lips curl up. It must be nice, I thought to myself, to have friends run around with you like that. Off in the far corner of the cafeteria, I looked on as my peers busily tended to their own children.
“Christine, this guy plays bass!” Our pastor waved his hands around a dude I hadn’t seen at church before. The church band had been lacking a bass guitarist for several months already, so my ears perked up. I strode on over.
“Hi, my name is Haram. It means ‘God’s person’ in Korean [Ha-nah-nim-eh sah-ram]. What’s your name?” The guy stuck out his hand for me to shake, smiling brightly. He looked to be around my age.
I shook his hand, smiled, and asked him what brought him to our church.
He laughed. Then he said, “Maybe God brought me to this church 'cuz they don’t have a bass player.”
This is my first memory of Haram Patrick Yu (a.k.a., 유하람). During the next year, Haram not only went on to play bass guitar for our worship band, but he also became a point person of contact in our church. He helped to start the Korean Young Adults’ group, quietly giving rides to anyone without a car, and started jogging with our youth pastor. He became a Crossfit champion in Tampa. He also learned how to fly planes, like he had always dreamed of, and became a flight instructor at 28 years old. He became a friend for people in the church, even when they didn’t know they needed one.

Over time, I learned that Haram's parents were pastors of a small church in the rural countryside of South Korea. He had grown up helping them with agriculture, as they needed to do farm work to financially support the ministry. His brother was also in seminary, preparing to be a pastor himself. Haram's income had been the largest, and most stable, in his family.
Haram also liked to go fishing, so he took the church guys out there almost every week. One Sunday, they all came back looking like they had been burnt to a crisp. They had gone fishing again.
“I don’t know why I went! I don’t even like fishing,” said one of them. But they liked Haram.
On July 19th, 2020, the Young Adults group celebrated Haram’s 29th birthday. He had just settled into his own apartment in Tampa. He was excited for the last year of his 20s, and all of the things to come.

But on Monday, September 14th, our pastor got a call from the police in Taylor County, Florida. Police were now in search and rescue of a small plane that an eyewitness had reported seeing nose-dive straight into the swamp. The Federal Aviation Administration informed us that the radio signal had suddenly cut out in the middle of Haram’s flight Sunday afternoon. We hoped that it was a coincidence.
The police and National Guard were able to conduct official rescue dives for a week before having to send its equipment and teams up to Alabama. Pieces of the wings were discovered--enough of the plane to identify that it was indeed the aircraft of Haram (and his friend, Roman Scarfo) that had gone down.

During the second week, groups of friends, volunteers, and church members rallied anyone with a boat to help search for, now, at least a body. People drove 6 hours, and searched for 6 more hours on the water, everyday. Friends got sick. More pieces of the aircraft were eventually found. Haram was not.
Haram was a steadfast friend and irreplaceable brother in Christ. As unreal as this feels, there are moments when reality hits, sadness sets in, and we miss him too much. We know that he is continuing to smile, fish, and play bass in Heaven now. But we worry for those who are left behind.
Thus, we are here raising money to help Haram Patrick Yu’s family cover costs for a bodiless funeral service, international flights, and lodging. We also hope to raise enough to help support Haram’s parents. It is harvest season in Korea, and there will inevitably be damages to their already limited income this year. Additionally, without the financial support of their son, Haram’s parents will be financially vulnerable for the rest of their lives.
No amount of support is too small. Please consider joining us in efforts for healing in this family.
Wiping some moisture off of my brow, I flung open the cafeteria door. I was met by a flurry of cackling children, who nearly run me over in their impromptu game of tag. I could feel a corner of my lips curl up. It must be nice, I thought to myself, to have friends run around with you like that. Off in the far corner of the cafeteria, I looked on as my peers busily tended to their own children.
“Christine, this guy plays bass!” Our pastor waved his hands around a dude I hadn’t seen at church before. The church band had been lacking a bass guitarist for several months already, so my ears perked up. I strode on over.
“Hi, my name is Haram. It means ‘God’s person’ in Korean [Ha-nah-nim-eh sah-ram]. What’s your name?” The guy stuck out his hand for me to shake, smiling brightly. He looked to be around my age.
I shook his hand, smiled, and asked him what brought him to our church.
He laughed. Then he said, “Maybe God brought me to this church 'cuz they don’t have a bass player.”
This is my first memory of Haram Patrick Yu (a.k.a., 유하람). During the next year, Haram not only went on to play bass guitar for our worship band, but he also became a point person of contact in our church. He helped to start the Korean Young Adults’ group, quietly giving rides to anyone without a car, and started jogging with our youth pastor. He became a Crossfit champion in Tampa. He also learned how to fly planes, like he had always dreamed of, and became a flight instructor at 28 years old. He became a friend for people in the church, even when they didn’t know they needed one.

Over time, I learned that Haram's parents were pastors of a small church in the rural countryside of South Korea. He had grown up helping them with agriculture, as they needed to do farm work to financially support the ministry. His brother was also in seminary, preparing to be a pastor himself. Haram's income had been the largest, and most stable, in his family.
Haram also liked to go fishing, so he took the church guys out there almost every week. One Sunday, they all came back looking like they had been burnt to a crisp. They had gone fishing again.
“I don’t know why I went! I don’t even like fishing,” said one of them. But they liked Haram.
On July 19th, 2020, the Young Adults group celebrated Haram’s 29th birthday. He had just settled into his own apartment in Tampa. He was excited for the last year of his 20s, and all of the things to come.

But on Monday, September 14th, our pastor got a call from the police in Taylor County, Florida. Police were now in search and rescue of a small plane that an eyewitness had reported seeing nose-dive straight into the swamp. The Federal Aviation Administration informed us that the radio signal had suddenly cut out in the middle of Haram’s flight Sunday afternoon. We hoped that it was a coincidence.
The police and National Guard were able to conduct official rescue dives for a week before having to send its equipment and teams up to Alabama. Pieces of the wings were discovered--enough of the plane to identify that it was indeed the aircraft of Haram (and his friend, Roman Scarfo) that had gone down.

During the second week, groups of friends, volunteers, and church members rallied anyone with a boat to help search for, now, at least a body. People drove 6 hours, and searched for 6 more hours on the water, everyday. Friends got sick. More pieces of the aircraft were eventually found. Haram was not.
Haram was a steadfast friend and irreplaceable brother in Christ. As unreal as this feels, there are moments when reality hits, sadness sets in, and we miss him too much. We know that he is continuing to smile, fish, and play bass in Heaven now. But we worry for those who are left behind.
Thus, we are here raising money to help Haram Patrick Yu’s family cover costs for a bodiless funeral service, international flights, and lodging. We also hope to raise enough to help support Haram’s parents. It is harvest season in Korea, and there will inevitably be damages to their already limited income this year. Additionally, without the financial support of their son, Haram’s parents will be financially vulnerable for the rest of their lives.
No amount of support is too small. Please consider joining us in efforts for healing in this family.

