Missing Kumsil

On the late afternoon of August 6, 2022, I was informed that Kumsil had passed away. All of a sudden, I was hit by profound sadness.

Kumsil is the mother of our daughter-in-law. Since our children's marriage, we have only met her and her husband Ray twice, once at the wedding in 2010, and the other, at the announcement of Leni's ultrasound existence in 2014. 

At the beginning, we had tried to keep in close touch by exchanging emails, birthday cards and Christmas gifts. More than once, Kumsil invited us to visit them in San Diego before they sold their big property. While I was staying at Hui's to take care of my mother after her second hip surgery, Kumsil called me every night to chat. Then and there, I was deeply touched and resolved to have her as my new sister. 

Apparently, I did not do a good job in keeping my own promise. Over the years, I had been too preoccupied with my mother's long-term illness, and stress over my own career, to notice people around me, until this summer. There have been many changes happening: friends have retired, nieces and nephew either graduated or married. The third generation are growing up tall while older friends and family members are getting weaker.

Kumsil is one of the latter. Only one month older than I, Kumsil came to this country from Korea to marry her husband Ray. Her arrival was about the same time as mine. In her lifetime, Kumsil had tried to help her family by bringing them here, one after another, to San Diego. With Ray's help, she even managed to provide her three siblings with job opportunities. Being an artistic, sensitive, and fragile woman, Kumsil was well-taken care of by her husband, mother, and sister for decades. She was declining gradually after the departure of her mother, but rapidly after the illness and death of her husband less than two years ago. She did not recover from a succession of tragic losses, even though her widowed sister came back into her life again. The lingering Covid-19 did not improve her situation either.

It is sad to see another family member go, especially someone you have cherished but somehow neglected. Hope Kumsil will have a better and easier time in heaven. One needs lust for life to survive on this planet.