Death does not take away the dead from the living. The death of a beloved causes a pain of separation for the living, triggering the ontological wound from being born into this (patriarchally inflicted) world. Our mourning for the death of our beloveds is real because we are part of the dead. Love transforms everything. Mourning is a gift of grace from the deceased. The dead embraces the living in the way that the living can’t do. My deceased father works miracles for his beloveds. He is finally free to show his love in a tangible manner. He is solid in his love for all. And he has made himself a guardian for his beloveds. I see and revere the legacy of a Korean Magoist male identity in him. I can tell my story.
I flew to S. Korea to visit my mother second time this year because I wanted to support her when she was deeply grieving for my father. My belated visit earlier this year, due to the Covid pandemic, to my father’s grave made me realize that I needed to show my love for my mother before it was too late to do so. My grieving for my deceased father yielded to the sensitivity that I felt that my mother needed love and care. She was affected the most by his death. And the sensitivity that I had was his care for her to be implemented by me, I see now. Love flows in reciprocity. My mother and I had a lovely time together, while we both are grieving for him. It was a cosmic womb time for both of us (my mother and me), made possible by the love of my deceased father whom we love dearly.
It was very special that I spent time with my mother alone for 3 weeks in her apartment, in fact for the first time in our adult lives. We both were deeply touched from our time together. As the purpose of my trip was to spend time with her, I did not make any other appointments but decided on focusing on our time together. Under the jet lag, I struggled a bit to be attentive for the first two weeks. Then, the third last week was amazing. Magic happened. It was a time, which felt like I was in her womb. Or we both were in the Womb of the Creatrix, Mago! It was a womb time for both of us. She wanted to take care of me (she used to say that she could not feed me well or dress well as much as she wished to when I was small) so I accepted that. If something made her happy and if she wanted to do something, I did not interrupt her. I was well fed (to the degree that I kept apologizing for her services in the beginning). We cooked together and talked and talked. We watched TV together and I listened to her stories of making new friends with neighboring women. She allowed me to go and carry on my writing task daily. She minimized her social activities to be with me (she usually does that). My brothers were genuinely good to my mother and me. They took us to their homes and entertained us. When the three of us, her children, were with her in my younger brother’s vacation house, my mother was so thrilled like a little girl. It was her time with her three children alone after my father transited two years ago. She did not stop laughing and smiling. In fact, throughout my three-week’s stay with her, her excitement was felt in her voice. It was clear that she felt loved and appreciated by her three children!
And we went to my father’s grave. He received a 2 years anniversary ceremony from my family two months ago in October. Whenever my mother went to his grave, her grief became overwhelming. She wailed so much so that I could not release my own grief (see my tribute 2 to my father). Thus, I had not broached my wish to visit his grave to anyone until I had a chance to tell my youngest brother who happened to treat us in his home toward the end of my visit. I desperately needed one of my brothers to take us to the graveyard because no public transportation was available to this huge mountain cemetery park.
It was a cold day when my youngest brother took us to his grave. My heart was getting clogged with tears. This time, to my surprise, my mother came to the grave but did not wish to stay longer because it was too cold, she said. Deep sorrow did not take up her heart this time! My conflict melted away. That allowed me to cry loudly as I wished. No one else was there. I told my brother to allow me to cry out alone. And he agreed. I had a good cry out alone. I wanted to stay longer but left the site to join my mother. It was important that I did not trigger her deep sorrow. My youngest brother gently hugged me and we walked to the car.
I could not believe that my father was not there when I visited Korea. It is conventional that one mourns for the loss of a parent for three years for Koreans in old days. I comforted myself that I still have one more year to grieve for him, while appreciating his life to us and the world.
One thing my mother and I refrained from talking about this time was my father/her spouse. I had been concerned in April when I visited her that she was grieving too much. So this time, I was cautious not to trigger her deep grief. Her health would be at stake, if she continued to be in such an intensive state of emotion. So my father was a pink elephant in the house that we pretended that we did not see, so to speak. That was a bit easier since my mother moved to a nearby smaller apartment this summer. When I arrived at her apartment, there were old family photos spread out in the bed he used to sleep and lie down for rest. They were familiar photos; their good times together, family photos, and my father and myself at the graduation of my middle school. My father, looking a young man, stood slightly behind me who looked a bit frowning. I told my mother that I was not happy at that time because I did not excel in grades to be openly recognized as the top three in the classroom. I had finished the fourth. She knows how much my father favorably loved me. This reminds me of the occasions that she told me before including how he cherished me as a newborn… He just loved me throughout his years. Up to the graduation of my middle school, I had a strong bond with my father… Thereafter for a long period of years, he was going without a reciprocal love from me.
At one point during my stay with my mother, it felt like I was traveling to and from “the moon” by a spaceship. It was a time of a mother-daughter bond as adult women. She has become a lot more vibrant, in fact ever more. She fed me almost all three meals a day and everyday. It was out of her joy that I could not stop her. You can have my words, she is not petty about the amount of household work. She is a transcendent, big in heart/mind. Her harsh life’s ordeal (they had to put their three children to private universities when they did not have enough money for themselves in the beginning) made her take small challenges as a play. She enjoys cooking, cleaning, and bathing for herself and her loved ones. She is leading a new life that she did not have when my father was alive. She laughs a lot and speaks words of kindness and care.
It was so vividly felt that I told her, “You are my guardian, mother.” She was very happy with my words. I was finally able to show her my heart/mind that I love her so much and I am lucky to be born as her daughter. I made her day! She literally flew to the air with my compliments! Her radiance lighted the surroundings. And she was so proud of me. Not to the degree that she was not proud of herself. One thing evident about her is that she has a healthy and positive perception of herself. She does not speak of the words of passive aggressiveness. She is real. And I am too. So we did not waste our emotions or words for vanity.
My mother told me that my father when he was alive had told her that I was reliable for her to live with after his death. He wanted her to be with me. This is something that has a special message for me (something that I could write in another space): He knew that I loved her. And she was confirmed that during this trip of mine. He had set up these miracles to take place for his beloveds. And he knew what my way of mourning his death would be like: I would care for my mother after his death. He knew me more than I knew him. And he was so proud of me. I inherited his trait, self-pride, which has guided me to my life’s encounter with Magoism. I am part of him who mourns his departure from this life, a beginning of my own departure. We return to the circle of Life that is open to the infinite.
산청 전주최씨 고령댁 상여 (山淸 全州崔氏 古靈宅 喪輿), 대한민국 중요민속문화재 제230호. Souce: ko.wikimedia.org