Memory

I married Heesun on January 27th, 1996. She died in 2012. Therefore, we lived as a husband and a wife for 16 years. I began to go out with Heesun in 1993, which means we have been together for nearly 19 years. During the period that lasted almost 20 years, we never had a fight. Not even once. I would not describe our married life as a passionate experience but we really got along well with each other. And we talked a lot about mundane matters of our shared life.

Now she’s gone, I find it weird that I know nothing much about Heesun’s childhood although we had lots of conversation. Once, she told me that when she was a little child, she had felt envious of other kids who had fathers to take them to amusement parks. Other than that, she never shared her childhood memory with me.

The first time, Heesun and I shared each other's past memory was when we went on a summer trip in the summer of 1993. Sitting on a night beach, we talked about how we had lived before. I told her about my gloomy childhood under my parents who often had fights. Heesun listened to my life story sincerely and attentively. Maybe that was the very moment that I began to depend on Heesun emotionally. Later on, Heesun told me that the conversation on the beach made her think of marrying me.

Like I said, Heesun never talked much about her childhood. All I know about it is fragmentary. Her father passed away when she was three. Her mother had to do lots of manual labor to raise one son and two daughters. She said her family got some support from relatives but I can imagine such support would not have been enough to alleviate the lives of the single mother and three kids given the poor level of the social safety net in those days. I can imagine only vaguely what kind of experience Heesun would have had as the youngest kid of the poor family.

On the last day of Heesun’s funeral, I had a talk with one of Heesun’s closest friends about her. She said Heesun always smiled when she was with other friends but her close friends were able to feel her loneliness behind the smile. I think maybe Heesun also hid her loneliness even to me to a certain degree. If I had been a more caring husband, she could have opened her heart and shared her deep feeling. Of course, this is just a guess as I cannot ask her questions anymore. I always thought Heesun was a simpler person than I was. I thought she saw everything in a bright light, was optimistic, and was able to get rid of pains, if any. Now I think I may have been wrong to think that way. Maybe Heesun had some dark memories and feelings in her heart just like I did but she tried to hide them with smile and cheerful attitude whereas I tried to do the same with my clumsy cynicism. After all, I was less sensitive to my wife than her friends were.

This makes me think some casual experiences from a different perspective. Early in our marriage, I invited colleagues to my house. While people were playing card game, I had to pass though people. Heesun was in the way. Without much thought, I touched Heesun with my feet and told her to get aside. She gave an angry look that I had never seen before. Later I told her I was sorry and thought “she has a temper in her own way. She is not always sweet.” But Heesun told me that such behavior of mine made her feel like she was humiliated. I was a little surprised by her strong reaction to my seemingly casual action. Maybe, she had some experience of having been humiliated by people with higher education as she had to get a job much earlier than I did, because of the poor financial condition of her family. I just did not know, back then.

After that, I did my best not to take any action that might make her feel neglected or humiliated. I don’t know how successful I was in my effort. At least, I did not mess up, I guess, because I never saw such an angry look from her again.

After my mother-in-law passed away in 1999 due to a stroke, I found a photo of Heesun and her. I wrote what I felt in my diary. Heesun never knew that I had thoughts like that.

September 2nd, 1999

I see mother-in-law and Heesun in a photo that must have been taken in Heesun’s middle school graduation day. The expression of the mother and the daughter arouses feelings in me that are hard to describe. Heesun’s shabby clothes. Tight lips of the mother. Something that keeps the mother and the daughter together in the palpable poverty. This is another kind of childhood that is different from my own complicated childhood. I must be getting older to have these feelings when I see this photo.

Instead of writing this sentimental diary, I should have talked directly to Heesun and let her talk about her past to me. I should have said I would make up for what she had missed during her childhood. Of course, it is too late now.