Jung-hyun wishes she asked her mother what she should and can do while she’s gone, but if she were here now—she wouldn’t have a clue how to say it.
Because Jung-hyun knew the millions of possibilities of what her mother could say back, Jung-hyun felt as though it was better not to imagine. Her head felt tortured just thinking about it, in fact that level of vulnerability would prove to be too much—Jung-hyun was a sensitive girl; she knew herself.
So when Jung-hyun looks at Chae with the same inability to communicate, it breaks her heart. She swore this would never happen with her and her own daughter.
Jung-hyun wonders too, if Chae will wish she was gone. Because if she speaks honestly—Jung-hyun doesn’t know if she can provide the life Chae needs in order to grow. That confidence that was characteristic of her, was ages ago; before antagonistic probability was something to factor in.
Maybe the issue was the randomness of it all. What are they to do with this fondness for wishing, then tending, and eventually demeaning each other; when our forbearance changes as much as our appearance does, what are we to do except leave? In fact, in understanding—swallowing your own feelings away, you risk living a life in the shadow of one whom you're only “supposed” to love; not one you do love.
Maybe this was a lesson on the stubborn naivety she observed and so despised in her own mother; it never occurred to her however, that people may actually be incapable of change. She realized then once again, she is no better.
Written by Sara Chung
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