Death Flows to the Ocean

Few Days ago, my friend Han from LA called me about the sudden death of my friend. He suffered from heart failure and diabetes at the hospital.

Three years ago, when I was in Orange County, he had invited me to a "gohm tang" restaurant and korean bath house. We sat together giggling, even gossipping, and laughing, enjoying eachother's company. Strangely, Won Ho & Sung Yup, have both already passed away with the SAME problem. I am the only one who remains and is still surviving.

Five years ago, when my daughter Esther and I travelled together around Europe, my wife called my hotel room in Paris and told me that Won Ho had died. That time, he was 55 years old. Last year, Sung Yup's daughter called me and told me that her dad had died suddenly with heart failure. At that moment, I asked myself "Why are all my friends dying?" I became fearful of death.

Now, my close friends that I had conversed and play with are mostly gone. It is a very strange feeling. Some sadness and sorrow feelings exist, but apathy is also mixed into the emotions. Why is this? Is apathy a psychological defense mechanism?

Though I was going to contact Jun Hyung who lives in Korea, the brother in law of Han, I didn't. Even though I hesistate to call, I don't understand the reason why I didn't call. Was it intentional not to call? yes, but I don't know. Is it because I have fearful anxiety of death? Death is an obvious course of life, so if we recognize the obviousness of death, then I just want to leave it alone. This is because most death is a natural path. So, there was some fear and anxiety, however I'm at peace with this natural course of life.

It's a paradox, a contradiction. 

As water flows to the ocean, the death of my friend I let them run to eternity. So it has become that I not call my friends and I've decided to be immune to shock. When looking at the river water, I've released the memories of my friends to the river current.

But I am still alive. For my fellow friends, the memory of me will likewise catch the current of the river of death. It will flow to the ocean of eternity.       

Nothing Left

Last Friday night, after coming home from the funeral home, I went to her room and packed up everything belonging to her.  There were not many valuable things; a few diaries, but the entries were only of who gave/owed money. But her most valuable possessions consisted of 2 Bibles, and a few pictures of the children, CJ, Chungmin and Cheongeun. I found it very interesting that she had 7 NEW & UNUSED reading glasses. In her lifetime, she ALWAYS complained to me that she didn't have any proper glasses. Also, in each drawer, she left many portions of half-eaten food starting to mold (i.e. dried persimmons, chestnuts, donuts, dates, cookie crumbs) and food utensils (i.e. knives, spoons, forks, etc...). The drawers had started to deteriorate because of the food mold. She also had many empty jewelry boxes. Where did all her jewelry go? Taking out 6 drawers of clothes, there were many unworn nice clothes. Lots of nice Hats. I packed all her belongings into 6 garbage bags and gave them to Salvation Army.

My mother married a very rich man, my father. Before the Korean War, she lived in a 99 room house, a humongous house. During the Korean War, my house was transferred to the People's Army headquarters. When we escaped from the war, I saw my house had been bombarded by the US war planes. After the war, most Korean people were in the same situation. My family had nothing left, so we lived in poor conditions. American people then gave us foreign aide by giving us clothes and foods (i.e. dried milk, grits). At that time, we  Korean people didn't know how to properly cook the given food, so we just poured water and boiled everything. The result was that the boiled milk turned hard as a cookie and then we would chew a piece off of the "cookie" little by little. I still remember. At that time, my mother received a fox fur coat. She wore it every single winter until the day it wore out. Even though she had a very expensive mink coat at that time, she always wore that fur coat. I believe, when we were poor, she didn't want to forget the thankfulness towards the USA when they helped us. In 1985, she came to the US and she was still wearing the same fur coat. She cut the fur coat and eventually made it into her prayer cushion. 

This time, though she didn't leave much (except for a few quarters), still she left her legacy of faith and prayer. All her life she would wake at 3 o'clock. Even up until this past April, (March 26 being her 100th birthday), every morning at 3 o'clock was her prayer time. With her prayer cushion, she would always pray. She left a lot of great memories, especially of praying for the country, the church, and the family. This is her great inheritance she has given our family. Yes, death means to leave nothing. We come empty-handed and leave empty-handed. Still, spiritual legacy remains through people's memories and influence their lives. I think CJ, Esther, Michelle, and Won through their life, the legacy of their grandmother will carry on.

Metamorphosis

In Franz Kafka's novel, Metamorphosis, the lead character Grego Samsa suddenly finds himself as a large insect. Recently, this has become my identity. 

Last Tuesday morning, while feeding liquid into my mother's mouth, in my eyes my mother because she was so thin looked like a skeleton. It seems only bones are remaining. In comparison with when she was younger, her beauty and health is totally gone.

My mother is a woman of deep faith. She used to wake up at 2:00 o'clock every morning to go to church. In my memory, all of my mother's life she was such a disciplined lady. Praying and visitation to the wounded was her daily lifestyle.

Right now, she only stays in her bed. She cannot do anything. Her teeth have all fallen out and her mouth is wrinkled. Her hands and legs have thinned into sticks. She cannot hear anything. She cannot see anything. She cannot speak anything. She just lays on her bed. She can only eat liquids, not hard foods. The smell in her room is foul. She urinates and defecates.

I am her only son, but right now I really don't like my mother's present condition. I hate myself. Where is my compassion? Where is my love? Where is even my morale? Where is my respect? Is my self-comfort granted as I am a human being? The true matter at the bottom of my mind is that I wish that my mother would die soon. Where is my Christian value? Fidelity to parents is God's commandment. Still, am I human or animal? Am I too transforming into a large insect like Grego Samsa?

I'm frustrated, agonizing, complaining, yelling and apathetic. This is my real character. Major sympathy and empathy is totally gone from my mind. My true figure before my mother's bed is nothing more than an insect.

Yes, I am a sinner. Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner. Even less than a sinner, I am less than an insect. Less than an animal. 

Resurrection

Last Sunday, my wife and my son looked for an advertisement for burial sites at Oakland Hills Memorial Garden. I called a phone number, the response was very positive to meet me last Tuesday morning @ 10. Last Tuesday morning, I met the guy who was selling his mother's burial site who's mother moved to Atlanta GA. But the cemetery office needed some legal documentation with notarized signature for the present owner. He called Atlanta GA, his mother reconsidered not to sell.

My wife and I looked over the cemetery map and found a good place and what we were seeking for. The plot was under a small apple tree, on a small bright hill. The name of the place is Resurrection. After that, we purchased the burial site for my mother.

At that time, I felt a lot of mixed feelings. What is life? What is the real meaning of life? What is the context of a good life? What is the conjunction of life with death? What is the return to earth and return to heaven? What is the soul attached to in memory of the earthly life? What is the extension of my mother's life and my life? Does death mean nothing? Does death mean something to me? Does death mean to extend to eternity? Is after death real?

The reason why I chose my mother's cemetery site is actually because I liked the name "Resurrection". I think Resurrection means the true continuance of a person's lifespan or the increase the quality of that life. Is it only the existence of life or is it to transform life into meaningful eternity?

My mother's birthdate is March 26, 1906. For a year and half she has been bedridden and has not been able to do anything. She is totally dependent on my wife. One day, my wife began to become depressed. Often, she asked/yelled to me "what is the reason of my life?" Her life is in total bondage of my mother. She cannot go anywhere to travel, she cannot go out and spend time with friends, but each time I just pray to God "oh Lord, bring my mother to Your place". Is this a relevant prayer? Is this infidelity towards parents? Is this immoral?

Recently my mother's condition has become worse. She cannot eat. She doesn't recognize people. She cannot hear. She only lays on the bed and produce waste in her diaper, dirtying her bed. Is longetivity really a blessing?

My secretary comforted me about purchasing the cemetery site. "How do you feel, John?" I said "I am okay". Am I really okay? Yes okay, but not okay. I'm really complicated. Life and death is such a big subject for me, a very complicated subject, of course. Yes okay, but not okay.      

WON LEE (CJ's baby)