My father 나의 아버지

                                                          
                                                         (written in December 1989)

 I remember it’s good to remember the past, whether the memory is good or bad because doing so makes one more thoughtful. I think, for example, of my father. He was a farmer and a carpenter. I remember that he was always busy. When I was 14 years old, in my second year of middle school, he died of liver cancer at the age of 62. I was just a child at that time.

 I didn’t like my father mainly because he was strict and cold and did not give me the attention I expected. He didn’t have enough time to pay attention to me because he was busy with farming and carpentry. I can’t remember expressing my feelings to my father or discussing my problems with him.

 One Sunday because of the bad weather, I had to say “Our Father in Heaven” and “Hail Mary” at home instead of going to church. I was supposed to respond to my father’s prayers, but I forgot the words at the very moment I was to speak. How angry he was with me! He scolded me, saying “how come you don’t remember even the basic prayers?” I thought I was still young enough to be excused. I felt so hurt and frustrated that I couldn’t say anything. The barrier between us deepened more and more. I even began stealing coins from his pocket or cabinet to spend on candy or sweets. I purposely did exactly what he didn’t like. I really felt he didn’t like me.

 In addition, I thought I was losing my mother because of him. Being the youngest daughter, I slept in the same room with my parents all the time, as usual in the past in Korea. I didn’t know anything about my parents’ relationship, even in the second grade of middle school. I just felt something strange and a bit alienated when I noticed my father’s arm was around my mother. I didn’t like it. Looking back I can see that I was a barrier between them.

 Another reason why my father couldn’t pay attention to me was probably because of his worries about my third brother, who was always sick. He died about one year after my father. I also didn’t like my brother because he had tuberculosis and was trouble to other family members. He got all the attention and caused my parents grief and worry all the time.

 But my father was a good husband to his wife. I never heard them quarrel. Our neighbors used to say my parents were a lovely couple. I wonder why such a good, devoted, considerate husband was not a better father to his young daughter…

 I was afraid of seeing my dying father when he was in bed at home after coming out of the hospital. One night after his death, I cried a lot, not because I was sad about his death but because I dreamed a dreadful dream. I dreamed I was becoming smaller and smaller, or larger and larger. Everything around me was dark and I kept falling farther and farther. I was comforted because my second sister, who was already a nun at that time, was there. At my father’s funeral, I had a hard time because tears didn’t flow. I wanted to shed tears for him but was not able to cry. I pretended to cry as I walked into the funeral procession.

 Later on, I grew melancholic, gloomy, sensitive, unsociable, and introspective. Even though I disliked my strict and cold father, I longed for his presence. It was only after high school that I recognized my faults and felt sorry for myself. I missed him. I could have been a good daughter but was too late. Misunderstanding, dislike, and hatred for him disappeared as time went on and sympathy took over instead. I was sorry and sad.

 He was a very firm, sincere, and faithful person in nature. He was a good and considerate husband to his wife and worked very hard for his family. He was respected in the church as well as in the village. He rarely caused harm to others and was, in fact, generous. How unfortunate it is that I did not approach him because of his strictness! I talked to him only when necessary. I was really childish and immature.

 My heart bleeds when I think of my faults when I was very young. I pray that he is happy with God in heaven. I know now that he always liked me and wanted me to be a better person in the future. I seek his guidance from heaven whenever I have difficulties. He is there. He is no longer in this world but he will always be with me in spirit.

                                    The Korea Times/ Thoughts of the Times/ December 9, 1989