756. Sliding Down the Steep Attic Almost Uncontrollably on My Casted Leg

💌 756. Sliding Down the Steep Attic Almost Uncontrollably on My Casted Leg

In pain and barely able to sleep, I lay in the attic on the second floor. Around 5 a.m., I faintly heard someone urgently banging on the front gate with a loud “Bang! Bang! Bang!” and shouting, “Julia! Julia! Mr. Bong is dead! Mr. Bong is dead!” At that moment, my mind went completely blank and I could think of nothing.

I jumped up, forgetting that my leg was in a cast and in an instant I slid down the narrow attic stairs as if I were slipping. The cast was so thick and heavy that I could not move on my own at all; someone had to lift my leg just so I could barely move. 

What was more, my big toe was not even wrapped in the cast but left exposed, so it did not heal well and caused me severe pain. And the attic room where I stayed had stairs so steep that even an adult man would struggle with them. The stairs did not go up in a single stretch; after one section, you had to turn your body to climb the next.

But the moment I heard the news of Mr. Bong’s passing, none of those obstacles mattered; the only thought in my mind was that I had to hurry and so I nearly tumbled down the stairs. Tears blurred my vision as his face I had longed to see appeared before me. “Not yet, father! You promised we would live together!” 

Every single second on the way to his house felt unbearably long. Even hopping along on my crutches, I rushed to Mr. Andrew Bong’s home and when I saw him lying there, he did not move at all. “Father!” I sank down and with trembling hands, reached out to him—only to find that he had long since lost all warmth and had passed away coldly.

I wept as I gently caressed him “Father, your daughter is here… your daughter is here… please open your eyes.” No matter how much I called, he no longer showed the smile that would appear whenever I came. Once I got my cast off, I had planned to buy him new shoes and clothes, take him to the hospital and have him examined. But he had passed away so suddenly and in vain...

A heart-wrenching pain surged through me. That day, holding his cold, lifeless body, I wept and wailed uncontrollably… Even now, thinking of that moment brings tears to my eyes. “While I was unable to come because of my injured foot, how eagerly must Grandpa have awaited me amid the suffering and loneliness of his final moments? I had called myself his daughter, yet I could not even be there at his death… How much must he have longed to see me?”

I was overwhelmed with guilt, beating my chest and crying again and again. He had wanted so desperately to live with me even for just one day and I had planned to prepare a room and bring him home soon. I wished he had waited just a little more but why was he in such a hurry? 

Overwhelmed by a relentless tide of regret, I could not stop crying. Human desire seems endless. I had once thought that if he could open his eyes and live even for just one day, I would have no more wishes. Yet even though he opened his eyes and lived for another five years, all I could think about was the love I had not given him and it turned into anguish and regret, leaving me at a loss for what to do.

Everything came to mind as my faults. While I could offer up other sufferings, I could not properly offer up his death. I could not properly offer up Grandpa’s death. My heart ached so deeply that dew drops flowed endlessly from my eyes. I feared that if he had passed away anxiously waiting for me, perhaps even harboring resentment because of me, he might have had to suffer in purgatory on my account.

I could not bear the thought that I had caused it. When the neighbors gathered upon hearing of his passing, they saw me weeping uncontrollably and joined me in tears, saying, “Wo-tta (‘Wow’ in local dialect), truly, this is something no one could ever do intentionally. Truly. Even one’s own father would not behave like that.”  

“And that is not all! Nowadays, even one’s own children quarrel over inheritance, yet no matter how earnestly Mr. Bong pleaded, the young wife (referring to the Little Soul), despite her devoted filial piety, would not accept the house. Where in the world could you ever find someone like her?” “Mr. Bong even said, ‘Even if I pulled out all my hair to weave her shoes, I could never repay that debt of gratitude fully.’”

“Young wife, ah, in his later years he opened his eyes, lived in comfort, and had his full life—Is not that a blessed passing? Come now, calm yourself,” they said, trying to console me. Yet my heart was shattered and offering up his death with Semchigo proved so difficult. Their words gave me no comfort. All I could do was call upon Jesus and the Blessed Mother, praying again and again with all my heart.

“Jesus! Blessed Mother! Please receive the soul of Your son, Andrew Bong. If only he may enter Heaven, I will gladly accept any suffering. Please forgive this sinful handmaid who could not fulfill her duty as his daughter and in Your mercy, embrace his soul in Your loving arms and bring him into Heaven…”

My personal reflection note with Mama Julia🌹💗 

Link 👇🏻

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