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Grandmother's
Armoire
In my home, there's an old armoire that has been with me
for a long time. It blends in perfectly with the other furnishings and its
sturdy presence and modest appearance seem like a piece of the Joseon Dynasty era soothing my heart.
Among them, a medium-sized 3-tiered armoire, about
four feet tall with a rich, dark color and ancient mother-of-pearl inlay,
never fails to touch a corner of my heart whenever I look at it. It was sent to
me by my grandmother when I was living in Washington.
One day, while living in Washington, without any
emotional preparation, I opened it and had a gut feeling that my grandmother
might be preparing for her passing. My heart felt like it was crumbling.
I once heard that this armoire was something my
grandmother treasured her entire life, a gift she received directly from a
court lady in the palace. If there's a measure of dignity for an armoire, I
would say this one has a very high level of dignity, with its subtle radiance.
Since I was very young, this armoire has always been placed in
the lower room of my grandmother's house, so it felt like it was on equal
footing with her. I couldn't help but feel uneasy about why she had sent such a
heavy piece all the way to the distant land of America when I could have
enjoyed it with beloved people in the beloved place in Seoul.
Come to think of it, there was a time when I was uneasy
with how my grandmother loved and treasured her granddaughter more than her own
body. Yet lately, I've been thinking more about my grandmother. Perhaps it's
because I'm getting older, or maybe it's because the world seems more
confusing. I find myself missing her.
Grandfather, who went to study abroad in Japan with Grandmother, was captured during the Korean War, leaving grandmother
alone. She poured all her love onto me instead. She was always proud of me and praised me endlessly and forgave me unconditionally.
Thanks to her, I grew up without feeling inferior with a
good heart. But as I grew up, I resisted her good advice and complained that
she didn't understand the younger generation, despite her knowing everything
and endlessly covering for me.
She lived a lonely life and suffered so much throughout
her late
years. It breaks my heart to think about it.
After falling on the icy pavement in winter and
undergoing major surgeries, she became as stiff as a tree. She longed for
me after I left for the United States to study and it saddens me to think
about how she couldn't recognize me when I visited Seoul, as if she never
raised me like a lover.
Her brilliant mind and her beautiful appearance engraved
in my memory. Her skin as smooth and radiant as silk. Everyone acknowledged
that my grandmother was stunningly beautiful and whenever there was a school
event, whether in elementary school or girls' school, she would come to find
me, making me proud.
But I realize that she must have
endured a great deal of injustice and unfairness as a woman born in Korea over
a century ago.
My earliest memory is grandmother holding me in her
arms at the break of dawn, praying earnestly. That image still lingers with me, like a dream or a scene from
a movie.
After that, I saw her pray earnestly at the same time
every morning.
Ah, how she prayed with dignity and composure.
Now I wish she were here, sharing her wealth of
experience and life wisdom with me. It's a time when I truly need it.
She especially loved the camellia, plum trees and the
red-leaved maple trees she planted in the garden. When I had a stomachache, she
would gently massage my stomach with her warm strong hands.
Why do I only miss
her and long for her loving care when I'm in pain or going through a tough
time?
We shared so many memories but she's
no longer with me.
Today, I look at the armoire she sent me as if I were
looking at my grandmother herself. This armoire went across the Pacific to the
United States and returned to Seoul after a long time. Chinese characters are
engraved on the two columns of the armoire. 'Wealth and many sons,
prosperity for the descendants 富貴多男 子孫昌盛'
It's been 34 years since she left us and as I gaze at
the characters as if she engraved them herself, the autumn scent fills the
night and my grandmother's love and generous heart touch me like a shiver.
I shouldn’t have loved a person who was going
to leave me
too soon
Ah, grandmother
Grandmother Jang Boksun 1904 ~ 1989
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