day eleven.dear 할아버지,
you passed away before i ever really got to know you. needless to say, i wish i hadn't been so afraid of you, so afraid of your quiet, yet charismatic demeanor, so afraid of your wrinkled hands, so afraid of your liver.spotted bald head. at that young age, i kept all members of the opposite sex a good distance away, fearful and perturbed by the differences between males and females. i saw men as intimidators, belittlers, oppressors.
i'm sorry i always skirted away from you when i saw you. i wish i had been audacious enough to run to you, jump on your lap and ask you the kind of questions that only little children can ask. had i been bold and perky, the way young ones are apt to be, perhaps i could have gotten to know you better.
i'm sorry i didn't appreciate hiking back then. i wish we had gone on one hike together. i imagine there would've been very little talking, very little verbal dialogue. yet, perhaps there would have been other forms of communication. there would've been something you could have taught me, shown me.
the stories you must have had to share. did you ever share them with anyone? living in a house occupied by seven women and no men is a story in itself. your jaunts through nepal and annapurna. your life during the war. your history, dreams, wishes, hopes. where are they now? buried with you under that mound of grass in paju? i'm sorry i wasn't there to receive such invaluable nuggets of a life lived.
wherever you are now, i hope there are trails for you to explore, fresh air for you to breathe and an endless open sky for you to gaze upon.
-linda
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