FBF chapter 20 part 1

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Five by Five (5×5) Volume 6

“The air here is definitely nice. It seems well-maintained too.”

That was the first impression of the caregiver auntie as she opened the window and tidied up around the hospital room while looking around. It wasn’t equipped as well as the hospitals in Seoul, but as she said, it had its advantages.

Today, all I had done was transport my grandfather from Seoul to Taean via ambulance, and the sun was already setting outside. I had a consultation scheduled with the doctor for tomorrow. I planned to discuss how to let my grandfather go. I had ignored this for the past five years, but I could no longer do so. The time had come to part ways with my grandfather. Maybe it was because I feared that I might falter first before him. Not for my sake, but for his. To do that, I had a lot to prepare.

From the moment I mentioned that I was going to take my grandfather back to his hometown, the caregiver auntie appeared to sense something. She read my unuttered wish for her to stay by my side. Grasping my hand, she promised to stay with me to the end, and I felt ashamed even to thank her, lowering my head. My heart was heavy and kept pulling me down.

As I gazed intently at my grandfather, who would not even know that I was here, I noticed he was looking at me a beat too late.

As soon as I turned my head, I met the caregiver auntie’s gaze. She had been asking about my well-being since a few days ago, showing that she was concerned about me. As I expected, she cautiously asked with a worried expression.

“Are you hungry? It’s mealtime…”

“…Ah, go ahead. The restaurant on the first floor is decent. If you want something else, just let me know…”

“Oh my, I’ve been in hospitals for years, do you think I wouldn’t know that? I just wanted to check if you’re eating well, not about my food.”

“……”

“Are you eating properly these days? Your face looks so gaunt, just half of it.”

Perhaps it was because she worked in healthcare, but she sensed when someone was unwell instinctively. I forced a smile and avoided her gaze. I was afraid she might find out about the lump on my head and that I hadn’t confided in anyone about it.

“I’ve just been busy…”

“You still have to eat. Isn’t all of this for the sake of living?”

She kept asking questions and didn’t leave the hospital room until I insisted that I wanted to be alone with my grandfather tonight. Once she reluctantly nodded her head in agreement, she quietly touched my arm while gathering her handbag. She was one of those people who understood that sometimes actions speak louder than words.

I couldn’t meet her warm, worried gaze and instead cast my eyes down. She was someone I wouldn’t have met had it not been for my grandfather, and I recalled that my grandfather wouldn’t even remember her.

Once the auntie left, I was alone in the hospital room. I had chosen a single room after transferring to Taean. It was slightly larger, but otherwise, it remained eerily quiet unless someone tending to me spoke.

My grandfather lay quietly as ever. It was not easy to transfer someone in a comatose state. I had to sign documents warning that there were variables which could threaten life during the move. Yet, my grandfather endured it silently again, just as he had for the last five years beside me. Even though no one could guarantee the prognosis, it was as if he lived on defiantly.

‘You’re living to see me.’

‘……’

‘You’re trying to stick around until you see that I can manage without you. This isn’t you clinging on, it’s just you holding on because you want to be with me as long as possible.’

Once again, Jihoon’s words echoed in my ears. I could vividly remember the gaze of that person watching me from across the way. Unlike back then, no one was standing on the other side of the bed, so I looked away.

If my grandfather was enduring this for me, just as Jihoon said,

‘So… it will be tough, but tell him your story.’

If I kept holding on hoping to hear that it was okay to let go,

‘Say everything you can, so you won’t have regrets. And let him know you’re okay.’

I’m probably the only one who can say that it’s alright and let him go.

“Grandfather.”

Though holding his hand, I hesitated for a moment, gathering courage. Instead, I kept pawing at the calloused tips of his fingers, wanting to remember this touch when the time came to let go.

“I know you wanted to come down here.”

Even I thought my voice sounded pathetic. I figured since my grandfather couldn’t hear me, it wouldn’t matter, but still shook my head as if to stop myself.

Today, I wanted to try what Jihoon suggested. I wouldn’t speak as if my grandfather couldn’t hear; instead, I’d talk as though he could hear everything.

“Even though you know… I’m sorry for bringing you here so late.”

Humans live knowing they’ll die, yet it is only when death is imminent that one becomes desperate. In that very moment, I felt that we were drawing closer to some sort of finale.

“I’ve been selfish and greedy.”

It was strange. Thinking my grandfather would hear my words made it difficult to look him directly in the eyes. I couldn’t even see his closed eyelids and gradually my gaze dropped onto the pristine white sheets of the bed that had remained unwrinkled the entire five years, whispering stories I had never shared with anyone.

“I haven’t really had any greed in living. The first time it happened was when I said I’d be with you in Taean during middle school…”

I recalled when I had persuaded him to undergo surgery. I had been genuinely desperate back then; perhaps that’s why I couldn’t say these words then. Back then, my grandfather could hear me and could have answered back.

It was too late. There were no opportunities left. Even though he was alive, I was reminded of that fact in small doses every day.

“That was really… nice. Even now I think if we hadn’t, I would’ve regretted it for the rest of my life.”

I met my grandfather when I was fifteen. Everything I learned after that shaped my life. Not what I learned before. Because of him, I learned that studying and learning are different. He taught me things I never would have grasped while being buried in my books all day.

“If it hadn’t been for you, I…”

My voice was now so choked that no matter how I tried to clear it, it was of no use. Despite my slurred speech, I continued.

“I would’ve remained that way. Not even knowing what happiness is… not even being able to ask someone if they’re happy…”

‘Are you happy?’

I would have lived my life without ever knowing someone who’d ask me that.

“I wouldn’t have experienced loving someone… just like that…”

I cannot evaluate a life I didn’t live, but I knew that life wasn’t mine. Even if I could go back to it, I knew I would make the same choices again.

I buried my head deeper in his hand. It was the only proof I had that he was with me. I nestled my face against his hand like I was sulking.

“So I’m okay.”

In the moments approaching the end, I recall the happiest memories. I see the familiar faces of those within them. Through the contact we share, I believe my grandfather is also recalling those same people.

Finally, I found the courage to voice the feelings I had hidden deep in my heart. With my lips resting on his hand, I whispered softly enough for only him to hear.

“I’ve loved Jihoon.”

So even if I’m not okay, it’s alright. Because that will allow me to move on without regretting leaving him behind.

My grandfather’s palm felt damp. It had been five years since I last wept in front of him. Even when I had cried five years ago, just like now, my grandfather never wiped my tears away. He was simply there. Until my tears stopped, and until I could embrace myself.

I woke from an indescribable feeling as though awakening from a dream. I hadn’t dreamt at all, but I felt as though I had barely escaped a long nightmare, jolting both my body and mind awake unexpectedly. As I touched my cheek, which felt like it was twitching, I pushed myself up. I realized I was lying on the bed, half sprawled over it. The last memory was of talking while holding my grandfather’s hand until exhaustion closed my eyelids. I must have fallen asleep in that position. The fact that the sun hadn’t yet risen was evident as the room remained dark. Checking the clock, it was 6 AM. The caregiver auntie would come in an hour.

The room was quiet. There was no difference from before I had fallen asleep. The only change was that the hand holding my grandfather’s right hand had relaxed from sleeping. As I almost let go of the loosely held hand, my heart raced with discomfort.

The sensation that brushed against my pinky was something I hadn’t felt in the past five years. It was something I wouldn’t expect from someone whose bodily functions had ceased.

“…Grandfather?”

At the moment I called out that name in urgency, I found it hard to believe that this feeling I just experienced was evidence that my grandfather had moved.

However, it wasn’t an illusion. I clearly sensed that my grandfather had moved.

“Wait, wait a moment.”

I stood up and pressed the call button for the medical staff by the bed. Soon, they would rush into the room. They would check my grandfather’s condition by any means, and would then explain in some way or another that my grandfather had just twitched his hand.

I held on to his hand tighter, verifying the quiet door. All my senses were drawn to where our skin touched. It felt like my grandfather would move his hand once more to assure me that what I felt wasn’t an illusion.

“Grandfather, can you hear me?”

Raising my voice as if calling someone far away, I gripped his hand firmly. While maintaining my gaze on his face, I kept asking.

“It’s me, Seon-uk.”

I knew I shouldn’t have had this expectation.

“If you can hear me, please move your hand just one more time. Just a little, it’s okay, just once.”

With desperate words, I kept my eyes on my grandfather’s face. I didn’t dare blink, fearing that even a slight twitch of his eyes or cheeks would escape me.

Perhaps my grandfather really was awakening. Maybe a miracle, one I had never had the courage to hope for, was happening.

I blinked. It appeared as though the corners of my grandfather’s eyes fluttered.

Am I going mad? But even if I am, it didn’t matter. I tightened my grip on his hand.

“Grandfather, I’m here. Right in front of you; you just need to open your eyes.”

I hardly dared to blink, fearing I might miss any movement. My hands became clammy with sweat. I tightened my grip on his slick hand once more.

“You just need to move once more, just once. Please.”

If I could feel that just once more, I would be able to fully believe that something had happened that had never occurred in the past five years.

I was becoming anxious. I felt it was vital not to miss this moment. It was my last opportunity. I turned my head only when I heard the sound of the door opening. The moment I locked eyes with the nurse, I gasped.

“I think… I think his hand moved.”

She initially looked somewhat surprised but then quickly rushed to the bed. While checking my grandfather’s eyes, she soon dashed out of the room. When she returned, she was accompanied by several others. I found myself pushed out of the way of the bed.

I had no idea what was happening. With every blink, the number of medical personnel surrounding the bed kept increasing.

“Oh my, what’s going on? What’s happening? Huh?”

I turned my head, feeling the urgent grip on my arms. I noticed the caregiver auntie’s face was pale, nervously hovering around the medical team, without even having put down her handbag. She was someone who knew all too well that such sudden commotion in my grandfather’s hospital room wouldn’t happen without reason.

I was about to tell her that it was nothing and that my grandfather had moved his hand and seemed to twitch as if he could hear. I pointed towards the ECG machine, where even when my grandfather lay still, it had continually indicated life with its steady rhythm.

However, my gesture towards the ECG monitor halted. The line winding up and down amid the vital signs rapidly narrowed. While it wasn’t a single line, it looked like it would soon merge into one.

When I felt the rubbery hand drop on my thigh, I recognized that this reality was closer to a tragedy than a miracle.

I stood at the edge of my grandfather’s grave.

As if submerged in water, a veil descended around me. No matter how much others outside might scream and shout, I couldn’t fully hear their voices. I looked around as if to grasp whatever sight I could.

The caregiver auntie covered her mouth and stepped back from the bed. The oxygen mask that had been over my grandfather’s mouth hung loosely around his neck. The mask didn’t fog. A familiar-looking doctor climbed onto the bed, pressing on my grandfather’s chest with his hands. He exerted so much pressure that I thought he might crack a rib. Yet, no one stopped him. The doctor vehemently pushed himself, unable to absorb the impact. As if that wasn’t enough, he shouted something to the side. He placed a machine over my grandfather’s face. I stepped closer to the barrier, as if trying to say something to those outside.

But you’re going to kill him. If it continues like this, he won’t be able to breathe, let alone have a broken rib.

The words that I tried to form instinctively became stuck in my throat. As if this was a part of the preordained sequence, my gaze froze over the ECG graph.

The barrier shattered, and the cold water surrounding me poured down over my head.

Ah, they’re not trying to kill my grandfather; they’re trying to keep him from dying. Since he isn’t breathing, they’re trying to make him breathe. Since his heart isn’t beating, they’re doing everything possible to make it beat again.

Even in this state of not hearing anything, I learned that their actions were in vain. The doctor who climbed atop the patient, pressing his chest down, and trying to breathe life into him by whatever means began to slow his movements and eventually stopped. Through the white coat, I could see the last hesitation. The doctor’s gaze no longer reached my grandfather. He merely stared vacantly at the vital monitor, which was instead telling of his failure.

I saw him step down from the bed. I stared at the completely defeated expression of the doctor, who had once pushed himself to convey hope to me. Like someone who could never get used to such events, he lowered his head and gestured to the side, as if to say something profound.

“…issue the death certificate.”

“Yes.”

I watched a slightly younger-looking doctor clasp his hands as he stood. I could feel the barrier completely vanish, leaving me with no protection from this situation.

“On December 10th, at 7:20 AM, patient Ji Cheong-u has passed away.”

As if it were an obvious procedure, the gaze of everyone in the room turned to me. I pulled my feet away, feeling the weight of the gaze confirming that I had lost someone precious. I looked at my hand, thrown carelessly over the sheets. It had been my grandfather’s hand, which had perhaps moved just moments ago, giving me a flicker of hope.

The hand remained warm, still not entirely cold, which seemed to indicate he had just recently left us. I lowered my head. Tears fell silently onto the sheets, just as my grandfather had departed without so much as leaving a sound.

After signing a few documents confirming my grandfather’s death and meeting with the funeral director, I noticed the outside had brightened. Looking at the sunlight pouring over the bench in front of the funeral home, I pulled out my phone. Ironically, it wasn’t until I encountered the vitality of that scene that I realized I hadn’t informed anyone about my grandfather’s death.

Gripping my phone, I searched for a number. After pressing the call button, I brought the phone to my ear. The entire process felt fluid, almost too natural to be comfortable.

-Oh, Seon-uk. You’re making your morning calls today? Did you move to the hospital alright? I was about to call you.

Once again, Kang Youngsoo seemed to have gone up to the rooftop to take my call. I could hear the sound of him slurping his coffee through a straw, amid a din of voices I couldn’t identify. My upcoming words would feel endlessly alien among those ordinary sounds. Just thinking about it made the muscles in my throat tense up uncomfortably. I closed my eyes and cleared my throat. When I forced down everything that had been building in my throat, my mouth felt empty.

“…Youngsoo.”

Having only uttered that, the other end of the line fell eerily silent. It was as if that fool didn’t know the meaning of silence. It was as if he sensed something in my call. He, who rarely addressed me with any degree of warmth, understood that there were words I was supposed to say when I called him that way.

“My grandfather…”

Kang Youngsoo’s breathing grew rougher. Hearing the sound of grief signaling the commencement of mourning, I lifted my eyelids. I focused on the parched dandelion roots sprouting through the asphalt in front of the bench, then the words nestled deep in my chest popped out.

“He’s gone.”

The moment I spoke, I realized I was finally confronting that fact after all this time. I repeated the words inside my mouth as if the other already knew.

My grandfather is gone. He’s dead. He’s no longer by my side.

Saying it made it almost bearable, as if putting it into words would somehow make it easier to endure.

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