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Someone close to me recently passed away. He left behind her husband and 9-year-old daughter after a two-year battle with cancer. He is only 41 years old. She, who worked as a peace activist with her husband in many countries for many years, was an upright, solid, warm person, truly elegant and beautiful in body and mind. Even with all her life support devices removed, we briefly saw her in her hospital room, unconscious and breathing on her own for several days. With her eyes closed and ‘wheezing’ her breathing, her face was as clear and shiny as usual. I greeted her out loud and prayed, believing that her hearing would remain until the end. As she looked at her lying down, she thought, ‘This person has been sharing herself with those around her throughout her life, and now she seems to be burning up every last cell in her body through breathing and lightly flying up to the sky.’ This person’s final battle with illness was truly special. While she was receiving hospital treatment, her friends took turns visiting her, preparing food, caring for her child, and helping her with other tasks. In the final step, we formed the so-called ‘caregiver support group’. For ten days when they were not even able to visit, they waited every day in one corner of the hospital lobby, gathering their bodies and minds together. This was also thanks to her husband, who had cared for his wife with superhuman strength and utmost care for over two years. He often reported his wife’s condition on social networking services (SNS) and sometimes posted photos of her expressing his difficult feelings as they were. And I earnestly asked for prayers in hopes of her healing. The acquaintances who saw the message all set an alarm for 9 p.m. and prayed together.
The format is a family chapter, the content is a social chapter.
As I went through this process, I realized again how important it is to express and share. New energy was created by combining the feelings that were connected through expressing and sharing. The energy that began to flow in this way had great healing properties. I myself was healed. It reminded me of the spiritual ritual in the movie ‘Avatar’ where the Na’vi people hold each other’s shoulders under the Tree of Life. The funeral process was also special. There was a constant stream of mourners during the funeral, which was held at the largest hospital and largest funeral home in Seoul. I was able to find out what kind of life the deceased and her husband had been leading. The format was a family chapter, but the content was a social chapter. The mourners who shared their heartbreaking sorrow with the bereaved family were themselves bereaved family members. I felt like I had been through at least a 30-day market, not a 3-day market. It’s impossible to say goodbye to someone like this. It was my first experience in life. Two days after the funeral, I went to Jeju. And I stopped by a place I had always wanted to visit. ‘Samdal Dabang’ is located on the east side of Jeju Island, near Kim Young-gap Gallery on Jeju Olle Course 3. It is a place where disabled people, their families, and activists can rest comfortably, a cafe space filled with books, and a field where radishes are grown. It was recently featured in the Saturday edition of the Hankyoreh. The name ‘dabang’ simply means a space where people can have a cup of tea and talk, but they do not sell actual refreshments. However, all visitors are given free coffee made from delicious coffee beans sent by sponsors. Among the owner couple, the husband goes by the name ‘Musim’ and the wife goes by the name ‘Okay’. It is said that everyone who visits Samdal Dabang is given a nickname to make themselves comfortable regardless of social status or age. In fact, I also used the nickname ‘Terra’ in other groups, so I quickly became comfortable with it. Musim worked in public relations and marketing at a construction company in Seoul for a long time, and OK campaigned for the rights of the disabled. Nine years ago, they used up their severance pay, sold their house in Seoul, bought land in Jeju, and built a building to start a new life. It is a life of being rich at heart without any clear profit-making business. The first conversation I had when I sat down with them lasted well over four hours. We had many common acquaintances. Musim also had a special relationship with the peace activist couple whose funeral was held in Seoul. Naturally, we shared our bond with that couple and mourned together. At the end of the story, Musim said: “I’m so happy to live like this. And I want to share my good influence with people.”
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Attitude toward dying people
Hearing those words made me think again about the meaning of the rest of my life. The peace activist couple and the owner and wife of Samdal Cafe are people who have a positive influence on the world. We moved to a local restaurant on the beach, had spicy rockfish stew and a glass of soju, and drank tea at a cafe next to the sea ranch, enjoying the forest and the sea with grateful hearts. On my way back to her house, parted from her cavalier, I thought again of her passing. I feel like I have barely started living my life properly at the age of 41. Having worked in a company for a long time, I have worked with the belief that companies can and should contribute to the common good of society in the market system, and have tried to live a life that is helpful to others in my own way. But compared to the life she lived, it feels very loose and insignificant. As a peace activist, she started in her 20s and spread her positive influence on the world at an incredibly high intensity and density for 20 years. She may have gone to rest in peace because she had done all she could. At the foot of a mountain range in the southern region, there is a monk who cares for those suffering from terminal cancer. Not long ago, he sent me a picture of a lotus flower. He truly came. The lotus flower blooms in the yellow muddy water of the pond. This is probably because there are a lot of good organic matter in muddy water. It is said that a stream of clean water flows through the bottom of the pond, which is invisible because it is cloudy, supplying oxygen. Thanks to this, an elegant lotus flower blooms. The monk takes care of terminally ill cancer patients who have nowhere else to go, and says that his calling is not to end their lives as if they were stolen, but to enable them to leave their bodies and move on to a peaceful new world of life. It is said that how we treat dying people determines the hearts of those living in this society. People who live in a society that helps them get through the end of life with dignity will be less anxious. Because you can feel relieved and think, ‘I too will be treated like that.’ On the other hand, people who live in a society where corpses are thrown away will feel anxious. We cannot let down our guard, and we will never be at peace. The monk sighs that hospice care is even more necessary now that people are living longer, but the wall in reality is too high. I believe that a monk who cares for the last days of cancer patients for decades even under difficult circumstances is like a stream of clean water flowing at the bottom of a pond and a lotus flower. And I also thought that I wanted to become a small waterway flowing at the bottom of that pond. One stream of good water. The source of life is water, and the essence of water is to flow.
person learning life
After retiring as the head of the LG Printing Institute in 2016, he changed his direction in life to ‘slow, quiet, and boring.’ We experience his retirement and aging together, and record his growing life.
2023-09-09 08:00:10
#spread #good #influence #leave #dignity
