I just realized my previous post was full of tense errors UGH. Will go back and edit them when I can. Meanwhile, I've read through all your comments for the previous chapter and goodness, haha, seems like everyone can't accept the ending at all! Well, I hope this epilogue, written from A-hyun's perspective, will give you a proper closure and come to terms with how Gashiyeon played out :) For me, this part was the one that really, really made me cry. Because it makes you remember.
Epilogue
Kim Jaejoong
26 September
In the morning when I saw my father commit suicide, I wasn't really affected at all. It only made me remember that terrifying scene I saw when I was little.
Why did he choose to kill himself on my birthday? It made me rather unhappy, actually.
Maybe I don't have a say in this since I'm only able to celebrate my birthday because of him. But really, must you choose this day, the birthday of your one and only daughter, to take your own life? I don't understand this.
Big Appa (Jinho) looked really sad, but he didn't forget to celebrate my birthday, and he gave me a present that he'd prepared way in advance. Big Umma, who's always been like a real umma to me, cooked miyeok guk (seaweed soup) for me as well today - the day I mourn the passing of my father when it's supposed to be a day for everyone to congratulate me as I turned 17.
They say it's bad luck to cry on your birthday, and I'm a really proud girl, so even when I heard the news I refused to let myself cry on this day. My day.
They've allowed me to bring all my luggage over to Big Appa's house. After tidying up my new room, I went back to my old house with Big Appa to retrieve my father's belongings from the study. All those documents that contained his handwriting, and items that held his touch, all of them were placed neatly one by one in boxes. It's the first time I'm doing this, so the feeling's very mysterious. Big Appa asked me to clear the desk since it would be easier, and so I started lifting the huge volumes of books and placing them in the box at my feet.
"A photo album?"
As I was cleaning up, I found a thick and worn photo album. It's probably been flipped through many times, so the leather's scuffed and old. Somehow, my instincts told me that this is no ordinary album, so I carefully turned the pages as my heart skipped a beat.
It's a photo album that contained pictures of father and him.... No, they're the memories of father and that man.
In the photographs, they look about the same age as I am right now. I'd grown up accustomed to my father wearing a constant, gloomy expression on his face, but in these photos he looked as if he was bursting with energy. Someone had cut the photo into half before, but it had been meticulously taped back. Strange. It's all because of this man that I was able to calmly accept my father's death.
He was really, very beautiful... Especially when he was young.
The sight of him smiling at me with those sad eyes as he lay dying was etched deeply into my memories when I was 5.
Father couldn't forget him. Even after he had stopped breathing, father held his cold and stiffened body close and wept for a really long time. And then, he carried this grieve with him as he lived on, until recently.
I heard he took his life the same way as that man did, by cutting his wrist. They were all such fools.
I stole a photograph of them smiling as if they hadn't a care in the world, and stuffed it into my pocket when Big Appa wasn't paying attention. And then, I closed the album. I didn't feel particularly sad, nor was I exceptionally happy. It's an extraordinary sort of feeling.
Cleaning up the study and leaving the room felt utterly ethereal, and I turned back to look at the half-closed door. All of a sudden, the image of him and my father standing together, clearly and deeply in love, flashed across my eyes dazzling and radiant. Maybe it's a trick of the sunlight. I immediately closed the door behind me.
Jaejoong... Kim Jaejoong.
At the same time I remembered his name as well. I wonder why I couldn't recall his name a single time before this.
Back in the car, I transferred the photograph that I stole into my wallet. And then, once more, I remembered how my father's wrinkled face looked so peaceful as he slept at night, dreaming and calling out his name softly.
Kim Jaejoong.
-End-