23 May 2025
Father is by himself, resting on a bench after an attempt at a morning jog. His eyes are listless. They gaze outwards, towards the beach, towards the ocean, towards the random people making their footprints on the sand. He remembers his mother. How can he not remember Gim Halmeoni? It has been many months since her death, but that time is nothing compared to the decades upon decades they were together. He thinks of the grey balding patches of curls that were on her head, just as he thinks about how long her hair was when she was young. Yes, her drool dripped and imprinted on her chin in her final year of life on this Earth, but when she was the same age he was now, she was still her spirited self, snapping at him to clear rice from the table if there was a single grain that wasn’t disposed of, or complaining if any grandchild of hers sat improperly during meals or looked at their phone when they were meant to be talking to an elder.
These were all great times, vibrant times, and they come to Father’s mind as if he were right there in the home he grew up in, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed under the dining table. He remembers the fishy smell of her kimchi, the way he’d tug on the edge of her dress as a little boy, the way she’d peck him with kisses as he tried to go to sleep. He misses those times so much. He has to pinch the skin around his nose so that he doesn’t start to cry.
His mother has been gone from this earth for half a year, and yet he is sitting on this bench, remembering it as if it were yesterday. But the death is done. He has thought long and hard about it. He has felt long and hard about it. He cannot continue to replay her death over and over again in his mind, relive their special times together, or imagine his brothers accusing him of her demise in ways they actually never did in real life. The death anniversary will come and he will feel the guilt again, but there is no point in blaming himself. All beings ultimately end their time on this earth and become one with death. Even he will pass on someday, and it will be the turn of another loved one to mourn. And death is no one’s fault. He cannot change the inevitable.
Ji-Ho, where did you put my slippers?
Father finds himself standing.
Ji-Ho, why did you eat all of the fish cakes?
His feet propel forward quickly. He is running.
Ji-Ho, today is your father’s jesa…why did you not come?
Why did he not go? It was the year after his father died, and he was angry at his father, but honestly he was mostly stressed from hospital work and fed up with his seniors. At least he visited his village every other year since. He didn’t want to punish his mother because he hated his father. She didn’t deserve it…
The memories stop pitter-pattering against his mind. He suddenly remembers where he is: on the beach, jogging without focus, unaware that he has been using his body while thinking to himself. He notices the women in their short shorts and the little boys in their groups and the men who are his age—and all of them are staring at him. He stops running. He asks himself what he is doing, what is wrong. It is more than curiosity; there is concern. Random people can tell that something is afflicting him. Luckily, this is Korea. No one will stop to ask him what is wrong, and frankly, Father prefers it that way. He doesn’t want their stares, but he also doesn’t want their pity. His mother is dead, she will never come back, and no amount of talking to strangers will change this.
Father decides to walk but with intent. It is almost nine in the morning. He will not get lost in his imagination, at least for the rest of the day. He will head back to his apartment and help his wife with the cooking.
The past is the past. It is done. People die and move on. Why can’t the people who are left behind also do the same?
21 January 2026
The road outside of Gim Sanchan’s house is deserted and wide. The houses are made up of tall stacked bricks, and the only source of noise is the buzz of the restaurant sign right at the entrance of the road his uncle lived on, whirring like a cicada. Father hates this noise. The restaurant wasn’t there when Father was living with his uncle nearly forty years ago, and much of the buildings weren’t there either. The fact that he isn’t used to the noise reminds Father how long it’s been and how infrequently he has visited, despite the fact that he promised he would try to visit more often.
They reconnected after the death anniversary. They had a good chat. Father likes his uncle, and his uncle deserves more time with them. They don’t talk as much as they used to, but Father would like to change that.
Gim Sanchan sees the two of them coming out of the car. It’s like his sight is as good as it used to be. He notices the grocery bags Father and his wife are carrying from the car and runs up to grab them.
『Jal Wasseo』he greets.
『Thank you for inviting us』Father and his wife, Gim Hye-Un, say at the same time. Despite almost being ninety, Gim Sanchan carries the four bags with vigour. Father offers to take them, but his uncle rejects.
Gim Sanchan says『You didn’t delay. I thought you said there was traffic.』
『Aniyo』Father says, wondering what Gim Sanchan is referring to. He didn’t call his uncle to tell him anything.
『How are you, Uncle?』Gim Hye-Un asks as they take off their shoes to enter the apartment.
『I’m good, my daughter. How are you?』
『I am also good. Don’t carry so much, Uncle. You will ruin your back. Let me help you with the vegetables. It is my responsibility as your daughter.』
『Thank you for offering. It is my kitchen. You are my guest. I am happy to have you. I will manage.』
Gim Hye-Un tries to wrestle a bag out of his hand, but Gim Sanchan pushes her away and rushes to the other room. Father catches up to them and grabs the cabbages and lemons and chicken legs from the bag, putting each in their proper compartments as his wife and uncle continue to fight over who should do what. He goes to the living room and notices giant bowls of rice as well as cups with cucumber and kimchi already set for them.
『Uncle…』Father says.『Did you prepare food for us?』
『What food?』Gim Sanchan asks as he comes to the living room. His eyes are wide in confusion, but then he looks at the table and begins to grin.『Of course. Whenever guests are coming, we must prepare a banquet. Come and sit before the other guests arrive.』
『There are other guests?』Gim Hye-Un asks.
『There are no other guests』Father clarifies.
Gim Sanchan overhears him and says『No, there are guests coming.』
Father asks,『Who is planning to come, then?』
Gim Sanchan smiles, but as his mind focuses on the question, his face goes blank. It lights up only for a second, and he says『Why hasn’t anyone come? And it’s almost two o’clock.』
He points to the clock above them. The time is 11:08 in the morning, but the clock is stuck in the position of 1:46.
Father says to his wife『I will fix it.』
Gim Hye-Un says『No, you are not sprightly enough. Wait for this other guest to come.』
Father shouts『There is no other guest coming!』
Gim Sanchan shouts too, matching his tone『Fix my clock! Fix my clock now!』
Father has received an order from his uncle. He has to fulfil it no matter what. He hobbles over to the wall, and despite not having good core strength, he jumps. Somehow, he grabs the clock and lands without hurting his ankles. He drops the clock, however, as he tries to regain his balance, but luckily it falls onto the sofa.
Gim Hye-Un says『I told you.』
Father says『I did my best.』
Gim Sanchan isn’t paying attention. He’s decided to sit under the table, his eyes spacing out and settling on the television, despite nothing being on. As Father changes the clock’s battery, he notices his wife coming over to his uncle’s side, massaging his arm, asking him when was the last time he had someone over. Given that Father has to find a way to put the clock back up on the wall, he can’t join the conversation, but he appreciates her effort to talk to him.
Gim Hye-Un asks Father『Should I go cook something?』
Gim Sanchan shouts, overhearing them『Cook? I told you, I prepared everything already. I am an old man. I live alone. And we have guests coming. Don’t you trust me? I know what I am doing.』
『It’s best not to contradict him』Father insists. In fact, the last time they visited, some years back for Hangul Day, Gim Sanchan made a lovely meal. There would be no reason why that wouldn’t be the case again. Gim Hye-Un sits herself down, and Gim Sanchan smiles widely at the two of them.
He reflects『I wonder where the boys are.』
Father asks『Did you invite your neighbours to eat?』
『Neighbours? What neighbours? There aren’t houses close to the power plant. 』
Gim Hye-Un whispers to Father『The power plant?』
Gim Sanchan explains『Our lunch break is only a half hour. We need to eat before we get back to work again.』
Father is reminded of the days when he stayed with his uncle in this suburb, when his uncle was going to the power plant every day, and how he would smell of coal and sweat when he came home, how much he swore, drank, and invited his friends over to play mahjong. These memories bring on a warm feeling, and he doesn’t want to take his uncle out of his reminiscing. But at the same time, he knows what dementia did to his own mother, and he feels he ought to intervene with his uncle before it is too late.
Gim Hye-Un is giving him a look, but Father decides to avoid the topic. Instead he says to her 『We should eat the meal he has taken the time to make.』
Gim Hye-Un nods. She holds her hands together, and the two of them say『Jal meokkesumminda.』Father serves his uncle rice, and his wife helps to push the bowls of banchan closer to him.
But the moment that Father puts a grain of rice in his mouth, he wants to spit it out. The taste in his mouth is ninety percent salt.
Meanwhile, Gim Sanchan complains『Those boys better show up. Otherwise I will dock their pay. It is rude to not come to a meal the manager has invited you to.』
Father pretends to agree while spitting out the rice into a napkin.『It is incredibly rude.』
He inspects the different dishes in the bowls, noticing that there is tofu mixed with mustard, a fried egg with kimchi on top, and fish slices doused in chili flakes. The bowl of cucumbers in soy sauce looks to be the most palatable.
He takes a bite and immediately spits it out, too. The dish must be several months past its expiration date. Father makes a face to his wife, who is clearly experiencing similar frustrations with the food.
Meanwhile Gim Sanchan complains『When I was young, people understood the value of time. They respected their elders, including the food they took their time to prepare.』
Gim Hye-Un has noticed a small plastic bag by the side, one that was used to bring in the groceries. She gets up to grab it as Father asks Gim Sanchan『Gim Sanchan, when you were young, how were relations with Japan?』
『Those devils! They have always hated Koreans. Even now I think they are everywhere in Korea for a reason! They are trying to take our jobs! Just as they’ve done a good job taking our women!』
Gim Sanchan begins to rant and rave so loudly that he doesn’t notice what Father’s wife is doing. She is subtly throwing the spoiled vegetables that Gim Sanchan took the time to lay out into the bag. Father keeps his eyes locked on his uncle.
Then she passes the bag to Father underneath the table and asks『Gim Sanchan, why did you move to Busan when you were younger? Weren’t there more opportunities in Seoul at that time?』
Again, Gim Sanchan tells a tale, and Gim Hye-Un doesn’t dare to look away.
『It was very difficult! Korea used to be a very poor country! Very poor! Now you look at things, and everything is expensive! So expensive! It was hard to live then, and it’s hard to live now. But you were asking about what place? Seoul?』
As he speaks, the trash bag is filled with food.
Father says to Gim Sanchan『Sanchan, your cooking is delicious.』
『Delicious!』Gim Hye-Un shouts, clapping her hands.『Sanchan, you are a very talented cook. 』
Gim Sanchan grins widely.『 I am glad to have a nephew and niece-in-law who know how to respect an elder’s time. Tell me, why did you come to visit me at the plant?』
Mother gives a look to Father. He knows she wants to get up and cook the meal that they will actually eat, and he gives her permission to do so with his eyes. It is now him and his uncle alone at the table. He can’t help but reflect on it all. His uncle’s mental health has certainly declined, but because Father has not been visiting, he hasn’t been around to observe the trend. Perhaps if Father had spent more time with his uncle, he would have detected it, he could have gotten him on the right medication. But that would have been difficult, especially with Father preoccupied with caring for his mother day and night up until her death.
Why didn’t he make it a point to take care of them both at once? Why didn’t he get his mother to visit her brother? That would have been good for their mental stimulation.
As Father sits with his thoughts, his uncle stares mindlessly at the table. A small trail of drool is starting to drip down his mouth, in the same way it used to for Gim Halmeoni.
Father finds a napkin and wipes it off. Then he speaks to his uncle.
『Sanchan, I am so sorry. I was supposed to visit you. And I never did so. The last two years were very busy for me. As you know, your sister is no longer alive. I’m still trying to live without my mother. Sanchan, you are my mother’s brother. You did so much for us when we came to Busan. You hosted us for months, you made sure I was settled in my career before we moved out and rented our first home. You sacrificed so much for us. I am so sorry I have left you to live alone. I don’t have any excuses. But I am here for you now. I will visit every weekend. I promise. 』
Father takes Gim Sanchan’s hand, and he holds it firmly as he speaks. Realising that someone is paying him attention, Gim Sanchan puts on a smile. It seems like he’s pretending to be more mentally alert than he really is. Father knows this is an act. He saw how his mother used to do this herself, a few months before the dementia really took over.
Perhaps Father is too late. Perhaps Gim Sanchan has already lived too many of these years alone, without any family, spouse, children or loved ones to take care of him, and Father won’t be able to make things better, just as he wasn’t able to make much difference for his mother in her final years.
But Father refuses to accept this for what it is. Father has meant what he said. He will be there for the people in his life who made him who he is today, and he will also be there for the people who took him for granted. Father wants to live his life with duty, and Father wants to make an effort to change. So, Father will change.
5 September 2047
What a great life Gim Sanchan has lived, Father thinks, as the automatons come to dispose of his body. The progress in artificial intelligence and nanotechnology in the last few decades resulted in the elimination of much lifestyle-related disease. Because of this and Father’s early intervention, Gim Sanchan’s dementia was able to be controlled. Since Gim Sanchan had no children of his own he had a lot of fondness for the time he hosted Father. They went out drinking together. Gim Sanchan told him not only so many stories, but so many of his regrets, and they made an effort to address them. They went scuba diving in Jeju Island. Gim Sanchan never found a partner, but Father asked Mother to set him up with some of the other older women of their part of town. Gim Sanchan lived past his hundreds, and because of the medicines, his cholesterol was normal, his body mass index was perfect, and his mind was sprightly and energetic.
Still, despite the advances, the night came when Gim Sanchan did not wake up. Father was called by the program he had installed on Gim Sanchan’s cell phone, which told Father that Gim Sanchan had suffered from a heart attack. He was showing no pulse. He had passed on.
It was the middle of the night when Father got the call. He rushed to his uncle’s home, saw the body, and wept. The three days of mourning passed. Because Gim Sanchan had no children of his own, and Father’s own elder brother was dead, and Father was the closest to Gim Sanchan, he prepared the funeral. He bathed his uncle in the incense water, plugged up his ears and nose with cotton, and wrapped the body in hempen. He put three spoons of rice in his uncle’s mouth and wished him peace.
For the next three days, family members came, paid their wishes, brought their own food to feed the corpse with, and donated shoes to be left outside by the doorway for the spirits who would also be visiting.
It is now the fourth day. Father called the police, and they sent the automatons, who will now be taking the corpse of Gim Sanchan to the gravesite. Another burial and procession will begin there. In the meantime, Gim Sanchan’s house is full, filled with all of the members of the Gim family, from people of Father’s age, to his son’s age, to their children’s age, and even their children.
The entire room is crying. These are the people who rarely visited Gim Sanchan when he was living, people who have only attended because it is etiquette. Only Father’s eyes are dry. Unlike the rest of them, Father does not feel sad. Father has done good work for his uncle. Father has had a good relationship with his uncle. He learned everything he needed from the death of his mother—to show his uncle the dignity in life that he deserved. And he knows that whenever he meets both of them when he, too, passes on, he will be greeted with kindness, fondness, and love.