“Mom, isn’t it easy to die?”

Day after day, barely surviving with a desire to die
Learning to live again next to a mother who willingly embraces death.
★★★ Jang Il-ho, Hong Seung-eun, and Kwak Min-ji highly recommended ★★★

Stage 4 lung cancer, 5-year survival rate 8.9 percent.
The number that changed my priorities in life overnight and made me run across the ocean to be with my mother.
When I wanted to die, my mother's face, which had blocked my path, said in front of my eyes, "I survived."
I hear those words as “I loved with all my might.”
The story of two people who, after three years of focusing on their mother's life rather than their own sorrow, finally drew the clearest picture of love with death by their side.

“I learned that the process of losing you is the attitude of reading and writing about you so fiercely.”_ Hong Seung-eun (author)

“Their struggle and care is more like a march and escort toward a predetermined death.
“If a loss is so great that it seems like it will swallow up my life just by imagining it, the only way to survive is to face it.”_ Kwak Min-ji (host of the podcast [Unmarried Tax])

“Song Kang-won creates a body and clothes it with words to fill the void of loss.
I cope with my mother's absence by weaving mourning into every aspect of my life.
“His desperate struggle to survive is wrapped inside a refreshing sadness.”_ Jang Il-ho (SisaIN reporter)

One day, I received a call from my father in Korea.
I hear the news that my mother has stage 4 lung cancer.
He calmly tells his mother (Ok), who was trying to keep it a secret from her son in faraway America.
“Mom, let’s be comfortable with each other and be sick.”

Until recently, the person who confessed to his mother that he wanted to die was her son, Song Kang-won.
Days continued to be so precarious that death was being mentioned carelessly, skipping over words like “it’s hard” and “it’s painful.”
What made me change my priorities in life and come from the US to Korea, to Ok's side, was the number of 8.9% five-year survival rate.
At 3 a.m., I quietly write down my thoughts while leaning against the light of the thermal lamp illuminating the hospital room, next to Ok, who is sleeping comfortably.
I am grateful that you finally allowed me to be by your side and take care of you.
The articles I have been writing consistently for the past three years have become 『Easy Jokes』 (published by Yuyuhi).

"Easy Joke" is a record of the time when Ok, who had worked hard all her life to the best of her ability, faced death together with him, thinking only of herself and creating an ending that was just right for her, in order to achieve the end of her life that she had so desperately wanted.
Song Kang-won faithfully records the colors of jade that become more colorful every day as it embraces death.
As someone who knows full well that writing is the way to save time so that we can infinitely maintain our present self even when we look back someday.

“Mom, isn’t it easy to die?” Death, which used to be covered only with sadness, suddenly changes genre.
It clears away the overwhelming sadness and changes the genre to make a joke.
If death is all that's left for Mom, then we have to tell her that story.
Rather than trying to ignore it and force life on you.
Song Kang-won focuses on his mother's life rather than his own sorrow.

* Leaders One's large-print books are books with 'font size' and 'line spacing' enlarged by '120% to 150%' compared to regular paperbacks to provide a comfortable reading environment for all those who have difficulty reading due to small print.
We want to bring back the joy of reading to those who have poor eyesight or find small print frustrating.

Ok was making a rare but clear request regarding the results of this test.
It seemed like a glimpse into the mind of someone who might have made choices for others rather than for themselves in the face of their illness.
If life is like a long play that begins against one's will, then perhaps death is the only way to get off the stage.
I had been sad for a long time as my mother seemed to be fading away, but this time I hoped that no sadness would show on my face as I listened to Ok's words.
I hope that the son's sadness in accepting Ok's death as his mother's death will not be revealed.
If I could kill my son in front of Ok and cheer on Ok's life, which becomes more complete thanks to death.

--- p.24 From "Easy Jokes"

The costume shop was the most high-resolution world that unfolded before me as a child.
Without a doubt, the main character of that world was the mother, Ok.
Even the expressionless mannequins felt mysterious when I sat right next to them and played, and the scary-sized fabric scissors seemed like they could work magic.
Ok, who is usually frugal and modest, was a different person in the wardrobe.
Although it was said to be to set a good example for the guests, Jade's taste was something that emanated like a fragrance without any explanation.

A floral corsage, a sensual point to the calm-toned two-piece, was attached to one side of the chest, and the subtly highlighted purple pearl eyeshadow was in harmony with the red manicure lightly painted only on the tips of the nails.
The clip-on pearl earrings that sparkled on both ears and the short hair tucked behind the ears were elegant.
A look that is flashy without being over the top, and stylish without trying too hard.
And the makeup that perfectly suits him.
Jade may have been the first palette I ever experienced.
Even after chatting with the guests for a while, I would often find myself sketching costume designs on a blank piece of paper. I remember the liveliness of Jade at that time.

--- pp.41-42 From “Dressing Room and Palette”

It wasn't until I was old enough to deal with my own anxiety that I realized my default emotion toward my mother was sadness.
When I was diagnosed with depression and confided in my mother, she recalled a sunny day when she was pregnant with me.
I remembered the dark feeling I felt while looking up at the clear, cloudless sky.
I confessed that it was my fault that I had been depressed and had been struggling with life.
Although she told me my depression wasn't my mother's fault, I found a strange comfort in our shared sadness.

(Omitted) Every time my mother said, ‘I’m all alive,’ I heard, ‘I want to die.’
I often felt sad inside because it sounded like resignation to life.
These days, I try to focus on her life rather than my own sorrow.
Maybe my mother loved life enough in her own way to face death without regret.
I feel an energy of life that is difficult to explain from my mother who speaks of death.
Now I hear my mother's 'I'm all alive' differently.
'I loved with all my might.'
--- pp.93-94 From "Death Finally Became Life"

There was a day when I held my mother's hand tightly while she was sleeping in the hospital room, and closed my eyes and concentrated.
A sudden fear struck me that I might never feel my mother's presence again once the hand I was holding, the body, disappeared.
If I could memorize it, I wanted to memorize it.
This feeling is mom.
This is the feeling I get when my mom is around.
I felt like I needed to practice beforehand if I ever wanted to recognize my mother again.
Planning for absence in advance was not something I was thorough with, but something I desperately wanted to do.
The habit of doing things in advance was also taken from my mother.

--- p.141 From "Super J's Uncommon Funeral"

In the text, my mother and I seem to be preserved in a glass jar like pickles.
I feel proud of myself for having preserved in writing the memories of that time, which we will never be able to experience again.
The time spent with my mother spreads in my mouth with a familiar sweetness.
The time when my mother would boil the odi, one by one, in water with sugar dissolved in it, and guard the fire.
Now I savor the time that is no longer in the world, but will not decay.

--- pp.178-179 From "How to Save Time"

I'm just now realizing that living means enduring the absence of the beings you depended on and relied on to survive.
How many stories would they have shared in a world without their parents, born and raised in the same boat, after hastily sending off their only brother and older brother 30 years ago?
Who will my aunt, who used to call me every day and tell me all the details of her daily life, call me “Sister~” now?
Each person was enduring an unfathomable sadness in their own place.

--- p.209 From "Words I Couldn't Bear"

When my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer, it was a time when I often thought about death.
I struggled for a while with the sadness that had washed over me.
My mother was someone whose absence made me feel sad just thinking about it.
One day, at dawn, after repeatedly crying myself to sleep, I made a decision.
I will not mourn in advance.
I promised myself that I would not be overwhelmed by sadness.

Looking back, it was fortunate.
Because I often thought about death, I was able to prioritize my life without any unnecessary things.
I'm leaving everything behind in America and going back.
Go to your mother's side.
The thought of wanting to die disappeared.
I didn't really try to live.
A life with the clearest purpose has begun.

--- p.237 From "Writing"