21.

Gazing up at the solemn, grey, cloudy sky in the miniature courtyard in Grandma and Grandpa’s traditional Korean, hanok, house, I exhale as I realize that the skies reflect what I feel inside: gloom.

Mom…Daddy…

"Aya, come back. I need you to take these rice cakes to the table. I think this is the last plate, " I hear Grandma yell from across the courtyard. I stand up from the steps and plod across the outdoor hallway into the kitchen. Grandma’s back turns, revealing a plate of rice cake in her hands.

“Here,” she gestures. I accept the plate and take it from her hands. As I begin to turn away, she places a hand on my shoulder. Her touch is light and cautious.

“Your face… Are you okay?” She quietly asks.

I plaster a smile and nod. Before Grandma could say anything else, I turn away from her and walk out into the hallway, across the courtyard, to a small room in the corner of the house. I push the wooden screen door to the side to reveal a small room with a mahogany table, aligned against the far wall. On top of the table stands two pictures, a portrait of my mother and another of my father, and plates of their favorite foods; dumplings, fruits, and Grandma’s japchae. On the other side of the portraits lie two sticks of incense, waiting to be burned. I kneel down in front of the table and place the plate of rice cakes in the only empty spot in front to the pictures. Sitting back on my heels, I stare at the pictures of my parents.

I nearly forgot what they looked like.

“Is everything ready?” My head whips to the sound of Grandpa’s voice, coming from the doorway. He steps into the room and takes a seat down on the floor behind me.

“You’re starting to look more like your mother every day,” he notes as he tenderly pats my back.

My eyes float to the features on my mother’s face. From her almond shaped eyes to her button nose, flawless, radius brown skin, and down to her full lips.

I have always heard that phrase when I was younger: “You look just like your mother”. But I always felt otherwise; I believed I looked more like my father.

My eyes quickly moved to my father’s portrait. I could see his features reflected on my face; our wide foreheads, matched with our strong eyebrows, long noses, and thinner lips. The sound of Grandma’s shuffling gains my attention as I look towards the doorway, waiting to see her silhouette. Moments later, Grandma appears and walks into the room.

“I was looking for the lighter and the vase. Is everything set?” She asks as she hands me the lighter and a small, white floral vase. Grandma takes her place next to Grandpa and sits down. I place the vase at the edge of the table and place the two incense sticks into the vase. Using the lighter, I burn the tips of the two sticks and place the lighter under the table. I scoot back to my seat in front of the table and hesitate for a moment.

Every three years, we do this and each time, it gets harder…

I stand up and do a ninety degree bow in front of the portraits, before standing up straight and prostrating on the floor. Picking my head up from the ground, I once again, sit back upon my heels, facing the table and the portraits.

“The souls of Joshua and Mary Lent, we pray that you are resting in peace and respectfully accept our offerings we have laid out,” Grandpa’s voice fills the room.

I bow my head and begin to pray.

God…are you there?

Are my parents there with you?

I…

Mom, Daddy.. I miss you both so much. I wish you both were here with me. I-I can’t help but to still feel guilty about everything that has happened and I hope you guys are able to forgive me.

Dr. Choi believes that I should forgive myself. But I dunno if I can. I want to…but I…

I lift up my head and stare at their portraits with tears in my eyes. A tear drops onto my cheek and I feel it roll down my cheek to the corner of my lips.

Can I? Do you forgive me?

The overhead light begins to flicker for three seconds before stopping. I look up at the light before glancing at my parent’s portraits. I focus on my mother’s smiling face. Silence fills the room.

“We never blamed you, Aya dear,” my mother’s soft voice appears in my mind.

“We want you to know we will always love you,” my father’s voice chimes in.

Another tear falls down my cheeks and I gently wipe it away. I sniffle and Grandpa moves next to me and pulls me close to him.

“Aya, I know your parents still love you and would be proud of you. You’ve grown up so beautifully and I can sense that you still blame yourself for what happened. It’s okay,” Grandpa whispers into my hair.

It’s okay.

Author's Note:

This chapter is much shorter than I originally intended. I decided to cut it into two chapters. I loved the comments I got in the last chapter! Thank you! :3

Well hope you liked the chapter.

Don't forget to comment and upvote!

That booful smile TT_TT