As I entered my school years, there was uproar within the country. My family and I decided to move south and follow the crowd, leaving everything we had behind, to where the calamity and the political unrest had not yet begun. In the South we were in the hope of finding a great beginning to our new life, to get away from the prejudiced society.
Unfortunately, this new beginning did not come as easily as I had expected. The third stage of my life – the years of the Lover – therefore was not a very memory one. Even though five years had passed since the day I moved to South Korea, my life didn’t seem very different with the previous one in the North. I blamed the civil conflict. My Lover years was Catch 22 – either way, staying or leaving North Korea, my life was going to be lacklustre.
Then another incident happened. It changed my life completely, albeit not quite the change I wanted it to be. It was a letter; a letter of mandate to join the army.
In the army, enthusiasm was pervasive: chants of the triumph that was yet to come surging in the atmosphere, robust soldiers marching away dynamically. Nonetheless anxiety grew exponentially as we got closer and closer to the borderlines. Then, from the front, came a sudden cry of agony, astonishing the soldiers, leaving them aghast.
I was startled by the explosion of artillery shells. The cacophonous, ear-splitting sound announced the start of this mass massacre, a tempest of ammunition – the bullets were the raindrops and the artillery were the thunder and lightning. The war was like a discordant harmony of an orchestra.
Subsequently, I felt a shock of sheer shattering pain, a torturous, excruciating experience. I was bleeding profusely, ruby-red blood gushing out of my wounded arm like a raging torrent. My sight blurred. I could only hear distorted sounds. From this point onwards my memory somewhat vanished into oblivion.
Finishing the civil war that lasted three years was, sadly, like ending my life as a Lover, largely because I had been devoting myself solely in fighting for the country. I felt I was not ready to move on with my life. I had not accomplished anything yet. My life was not exactly monotonous, but I was certainly not enjoying it.
Then the most fortunate thing by far happened to me. It was a serendipity – falling in love – and the first time, too. I was infatuated by the Eos whom I loved to the level of every day’s most quiet need. She shimmered with sunshine beauty that seemed to dispel the Cimmerian shade, from dusk to dawn. We tied the knot. We had two sons. I became financially stable. My sans-everything underwent a metamorphosis into ‘avec’-everything. My life heretofore was dull, and indeed, depressing. It wasn’t anymore.
Time flew by until I reached my mid-forties, when I was on the verge of bankruptcy for a short while. Nonetheless, thinking of the good times that I have had with them, I worked even harder, never giving up, and thus I was able to pull through. I was grateful to my family who accompanied me through the trials and tribulations. I realized how it is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
From the Justice years onward, everything seemed to be perfectly fine. Even in my sixties was I still full of life, discharging all the youthful energy that I had not used in my younger years. My sixties, in fact, were the happiest times that I remember.
But everything that has a start must have an end. It was time for my happiness to end. I was diagnosed pancreatic cancer. I didn’t have much time left. Hearing this, I was dreary, dismal, almost dazed. I could not evade the truth, but nor could I believe what the doctor said. My family and I were traumatized.
I spent the next few months dumbfounded. Time flew by without much thought. I couldn’t think properly. I was afraid of death. As death was coming closer, I realized how I started my life with sans-everything, and that I will inevitably end with sans-everything. But there is one thing that is different this time, and that is the love and care of my cherished family that will be kept deep within my heart forever. I promised that I will never forget my family in my eternal slumber.
The ultimate purpose of life is to end. Nevertheless, this end, or rather, death, is not as bad it seems. A start always has an end. Since the day of my birth, I have stepped forward, one step closer to death, one step farther from immortality. It shall be time when I let go of my family’s hands, and hold my death’s, to be accompanied through the everlasting journey.