He Wanted to Build Something Bigger Than One Family
One of the most remarkable aspects of Jeon's final months was that his mission did not end after finding a home for Je-won.
He began working toward the creation of what has been described as the Peter Pan Foundation, intended to support adults with severe autism and other families facing similar challenges.
He wanted to create a system in which parents would not have to reach the final stage of a terminal illness before discovering that they had nowhere to turn.
In August 2026, shortly before his death, preparations for the foundation were formally announced.
Jeon also called for the creation of a larger community sometimes referred to as “Neverland Village,” where adults with severe disabilities could live with dignity and receive long-term support.
In a video letter released after his death, Jeon urged people to join the effort.
He understood that his individual story could become the beginning of something much bigger.
His son had found a home.
But thousands of other families still faced the same question.
“What Happens When I Am Gone?”
This may be one of the most painful questions a parent can ever ask.
Parents are generally expected to care for their children.
But parents also assume, at least in ordinary circumstances, that their children will eventually become independent.
For families caring for adults with profound disabilities, that assumption may never become reality.
Instead, the parent may remain the primary caregiver for decades.
The child becomes an adult.
Then middle-aged.
Meanwhile, the parent grows older.
Eventually, the parent may become physically unable to provide care.
Or the parent may die.
And suddenly, the system has to answer a question that the family has been worrying about for years.
Jeon's story exposed the emotional weight of that problem.
His concern was not simply financial.
He wanted to know that his son would be safe.
He wanted people to understand him.
He wanted someone to protect him.
He wanted his son to have a future that did not depend entirely on one aging father.
That is why his story touched so many people.
It was deeply personal, but the underlying problem was much larger.
His Own Life Became a Race Against Time
There is something particularly heartbreaking about the timing.
Jeon knew that his own time was running out.
Doctors had initially predicted that he might have only six months.
Yet he continued searching for his son's future for more than a year.
He survived far longer than that original estimate.
In August 2026, he appeared on tvN's You Quiz on the Block, where he spoke openly about his life, his illness and his relationship with Je-won.
During the program, he talked about the possibility that his son might eventually forget him.
That thought was painful.
But Jeon appeared to accept that his son did not need to remember him in the same way other people might remember a parent.
He wanted something simpler.
He wanted Je-won to be happy.
He wanted his son to live safely.
He wanted the years they had spent together to mean that Je-won could continue living after him.
It was an extraordinary form of parental love.
Not the desire to be remembered.
The desire to make sure the person you love is okay even when you are no longer there to see it.
His Story Became a Book
Jeon eventually gathered his experiences into an essay collection titled Hello, Peter Pan.
The book chronicled his life caring for his son and his desperate search for a safe future after his death. It was published in 2026, with proceeds connected to his broader efforts to establish support for adults with severe autism.
The publication transformed his personal experience into a permanent record.
His story was no longer simply something he had told people online.
It became testimony.
A record of what it was like to be a parent who knew his child would need lifelong care and suddenly realized that he himself was running out of time.
And perhaps that is one of the most important things Jeon left behind.
He gave a voice to parents who are often too exhausted to speak.
The Problem Was Bigger Than Jeon
Jeon's experience also highlighted broader concerns surrounding adult disability services in South Korea.