The Beginning
The Other Side of Heaven's Door
Chapter 1:
(Please be sure to read the Forward of this story before starting this chapter...)
“Papa, look,” the little girl called, pointing to a relatively new marker that was near her grandmother’s grave. She crouched down, reading the engraving on the light gray granite stone. “Kwon, Jaejoong, July 19,1984.” There was a photo showing a young boy smiling.
“Dara, don’t disturb the other graves,” Park Sanchol told his granddaughter. “Let’s go see Grandma’s over there.”
“But Papa, this one says he was born the same year as me. How can that be?”
He paused and held his hand out. “Many people are born the same year as you.”
“Yes, but if he was born the same year as me, why is he here at the cemetery like Grandma Dara?”
Sanchol put his hand on the little girl’s shoulder and walked with her the short distance to where his wife lay buried. “Sometimes young people die too, Dara.”
Dara was silent as she contemplated this. “Will I die young too, Papa?”
Her grandfather sat down on the little cement bench placed in front of his wife's grave and he pulled his granddaughter close. “Don’t be afraid of death, Dara. Death is something we must all go through in order to reach the next life.”
“Like Grandma Dara?”
“Yes, darling. Like Grandma Dara. It makes me sad that she’s not here by my side anymore. But she’ll always be in my heart, and I know she’s waiting for me in the next life.”
“Why didn’t she wait so you two could go together?” she asked innocently, and her Grandfather chuckled.
“Did you hear that, Jagiya?” he spoke toward his beloved’s grave. “Our granddaughter said you should have waited for me and we could have gone together.” He smiled as he hugged his granddaughter close, his thoughts on his wife.
Dara took the bouquet of pink roses they had brought and laid it before her grandmother’s grave. She stood then and bowed to her grandmother whom she was named after. “Papa brought your favorite flowers, grandma. I hope you like them.”
Over the next hour Sanchol sat and enjoyed the warm sunshine and fresh air as he spoke in his thoughts with his beloved. Meanwhile little Dara busied herself with cleaning around the grave and arranging the roses prettily. As they prepared to leave she went over and tugged on her grandfather’s sleeve.
“Do you think grandma would mind if I took one of her roses for Jaejoong?”
His brow furrowed. “Who is Jaejoong, darling?”
“The little boy over there,” she answered, pointing to the grave not too far from where her grandmother was buried.
“Ah, I see.” He smiled and pat her head. Little Dara was the same as her grandmother, always caring about others. “I believe your grandma would like it very much if you did that.”
Dara smiled happily as she turned back to the grave and bent down to pick up a single long rose. “Grandma, I’m going to give this to the little boy over there. If you see him there, can you take care of him please so that he isn’t afraid? Maybe if you miss me like I miss you then he can keep you company.”
She turned then and ran over to the grave of the little boy that she had seen earlier and she knelt down to place the flower there. “Bye Jaejonng-ssi. I’ll see you next time too.”
A few weeks later Park Sanchol and his granddaughter were again at the cemetery. If the weather was good they made the trek every Sunday. Sanchol sat in front of his wife’s grave with his eyes closed, a peaceful look upon his face. A few feet away Dara was busy arranging flowers on the grave of the little boy she had taken to visiting whenever they came to visit her grandmother. He could hear her voice as she spoke.
“Jaejoong-ssi, do you like the flowers I brought? They’re pink roses like the one I brought my halmeoni. She loved pink roses and we have a lot of them in our yard. I brought you some too so that you won’t be lonely.”
Sanchol smiled as he listened to her. Little Dara was so much like her grandmother when it came to caring about others. Her parents lived in America but since she was three years old her grandmother and he would always go to America to pick her up and bring her to Korea for the summer. When his beloved passed away the year before he had not considered going to pick up Dara this year. He had been surprised when she called him as it neared the end of the school year.
"Papa, when are you coming to get me?" she asked.
"Get you? You want to come here for the summer, sweetheart?"
"Of course, Papa. I always come there for summer."
He had paused, then reminded her gently. "Darling, you remember Grandma Dara isn't here anymore right?"
There had been only a slight pause and when she spoke he could hear the pout in her voice. "But you're there Papa. I want to come stay with you so you won't be lonely." Her answer had brought tears to his eyes. The following week he was on a flight to America to pick her up.
And so now, here she wasaccompanying him each week to visit her grandmother – and Kwon, Jaejoong.
“Dara, don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to over there.”
“I’m not, Papa. I’m just fixing the flowers for Jaejoong-ssi.”
Meanwhile in the Kwon family home, ten year old Kwon Jiyong sat on the couch across from his father. "Appa, would it be alright for me to visit Joongie this afternoon?"
His father sighed and put down the newspaper he was reading. "Jiyong, you just went there a few days ago. It's not healthy that you keep going there as often as you do. You know that your mother is also having a hard time with this. If you keep wanting to go to see Joongie then it will take her a longer time as well to get over Joongie's death."
Jiyong nodded his understanding and stood up to go to his room. On his way he stopped outside of the door of the bedroom next to his. The one that had belonged to his little brother. Slowly he walked to the door and placed his hand on the knob and opened the door slightly.
The room was empty now.
Even all of the furniture had been removed per his father's order.
After Joongie passed away from the illness that had claimed his young life, their mother had been so wracked with grief that she had basically lived in Joongie's room. At first Jiyong's father had let her be, allowing her time to grieve over their younger son's death. But after several months and her sorrow seemed to only increase, Jiyong's father stepped in and had the room emptied out and all of Joongie's things stored away.
Jiyong closed the door silently and went to his room. The sight of the empty bedroom made his heart ache more. At least when the furniture and Joongie's things were there he had been able to still feel a connection to his brother. Now the emptiness reflected the hollowness in his chest.
In his room Jiyong went to his desk and picked up the photo he had of him and his brother they had taken a few short months before Joongie fell ill. They were two years apart and Joongie had followed him around everywhere. There were times when it had irritated him but most times Jiyong had just let him tag a long. In his mind he could still hear Joongie's voice, his laughter. And he could still see the image of him those last days in the hospital when he lay so still and so unlike the little brother he knew.
Jiyong ran his fingers lightly over Joongie's smiling face in the photo and he took a deep breath, his eyes misting over. "I miss you, Joongie," he whispered, before placing the photo back on his desk.
**
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