Jihyo closed the door of the taxi, after thanking the driver. It was a long day. Just that morning, she was in Seoul, about to enter a meeting about her next acting project. It was an interesting role, and the show’s plot was based on a famous novel. She was excited, but when she received that text from her sister, she had to drop everything. She quickly requested for a postponement of the meeting, citing a personal emergency as her excuse, and she asked her manager to bring her to the airport. She took the first flight she could get, and flew off to Pohang.

Normally, she wasn’t one to show up in family reunions. Being the only woman at her age without a family of her own was always the hot topic among her aunts and uncles. It was why she made sure that she had an appointment every time there was an event on her mother’s side of the family. There was only one exception, and that would always be her grandmother’s birthday.

Jihyo was quite close to her grandmother. She spent a big part of her childhood at her grandmother’s house, because her father was always at work, and her mother was busy taking care of her younger siblings. Jihyo didn’t mind; she would walk to her grandmother’s house after school almost everyday, and sometimes, she would even spend the night there, if none of her parents could pick her up. It was such a normal occurrence that her grandmother’s guest room became hers, and eventually it was filled with her own knick-knacks.

Her grandmother was always supportive of her endeavors. When she regularly competed as an athlete in her teenage years, the older woman never missed a game, and, perhaps, what Jihyo appreciated the most was that her grandmother never failed to congratulate her regardless of the result of her matches. When she decided to become an actor, it was also her grandmother who kept her sane. She would often cry back then, thinking that her career was simply going to end with just being the pretty girl in advertisements and music videos, but her grandmother would simply cook some stew for her and reassure her that she would get her big break soon enough. She knew her grandmother never failed to watch every show and movie that featured her, and that undying support would always be something Jihyo would be grateful for.

So, when her sister texted to say that their grandmother had been taken to the hospital after collapsing in her home and was being examined by multiple doctors, Jihyo dropped everything and went back. Her grandmother deserved that much.

She checked with the receptionist, and she walked down the hallways of the hospital. When she reached her destination, she saw her relatives huddled outside a room. Her nephews and nieces were all preoccupied with their phones, either playing games or texting. Obviously, the youngsters were here out of obligation. Then, she saw her cousins, huddled with her siblings, as they were discussing what had happened to their grandmother. From the looks of it, the adults were inside, and her parents were likely to be there too.

The sight made her worried. Usually updates about her grandmother’s health were shared within messaging apps or phone calls. An impromptu family reunion didn’t seem to spell benign news.

“Oh! Noona, wasseo,” Seungmoon said when he noticed her. She moved towards the throng of people, slightly acknowledging the bows she was receiving from the children of her cousins who heard her brother, and wanted to do the dutiful thing. She greeted her cousins, before setting her siblings aside.

She got the breakdown of events. Her grandmother had been watering the plants in front of her house as per usual every morning, but unfortunately collapsed. No one knew why, but thankfully, someone was passing by, saw her, and called an ambulance. They only got alerted about the situation when her grandmother arrived at the hospital, and the doctors needed a family member to authorize some of the treatments the old woman had to undertake.

“So how’s Halmeoni now? What did the doctor say?” Jihyo asked her siblings.

Her siblings shared a worried look knowing how close Jihyo was to their grandmother, before her sister told her, “I think Eomma should tell you, Unnie. It doesn’t feel right for any of us to do it.”

Jihyo felt her stomach drop, but she trusted her siblings’ judgment. She nodded, and began to walk towards the room. Inside, her mother was huddled with her three siblings, their spouses preoccupied with different things, while her grandmother was lying on the bed. She was sleeping.

Her mother saw her as she entered, and immediately went up to her, “Seungim-ah, I didn’t think you’d make it. Did you fly out here?”

Jihyo just nodded, her gaze still focused on her grandmother. “How is she, Eomma?”

“I’ll explain to you later. In the meantime, be respectful and greet your aunts and uncle,” her mother chastised. Suddenly, Jihyo felt like she'd been thrown back to her childhood, when her family mostly controlled what she had been doing.

She trudged towards them, bowing to pay her respects and mentally bracing herself for the comments she was going to receive from them. After the formalities, her uncle didn’t waste any time. Jihyo had rightfully expected what was going to happen. 

“Gwija-yah,” her uncle called out to Jihyo’s mother. “When is uri Seungim getting married? Her nephews and nieces are probably going to end up going before her at this rate.” The man had the audacity to chuckle, but thankfully, his wife walked up to him, and put a hand on his arm to get him to stop laughing so loudly in the hospital. 

Jihyo dreaded these moments, and if her grandmother were awake, she would have reprimanded her son by now. But Jihyo looked back; her eyes were still closed in slumber (although she did see her lids twitch, but she could have just imagined it in her desperation to have her grandmother take her side). 

Jihyo’s mother didn’t answer her brother, and simply led her out of the room. Jihyo knew this was her mother’s way of avoiding any conflict or altercation; she was not one to risk getting into an argument, specially over an issue that she herself didn’t like. For a moment, Jihyo wished her mother would take her side on the matter, but she would never ask for that explicitly, knowing what the consequences of that would be.

Her mother led her to the hospital’s cafeteria, and ordered two cups of coffee for both of them. She asked Jihyo about her flight, about her work, and about her life back in Seoul. She dutifully answered these questions, despite the fact that most of this information was already known by her mother considering they just talked on the phone days ago. She knew that her mother was just stalling, and she didn’t mind the mundane conversation, finding this way to distract herself from whatever news her mother was about to share. 

“It’s lung cancer,” her mother finally said, as they were walking back to her grandmother’s room at the hospital. Gwija shared the doctor's diagnosis, and told her that it seemed that Jihyo’s grandmother was already at the last stage of the disease. Given her age, treatment was going to be difficult and painful. 

Jihyo knew what this meant. Her grandmother never liked going to the hospital, and had always told her children that if they were going to be made to choose between keeping her alive but bedridden as opposed to letting her live life until she died, then they should definitely choose the latter. The instruction was often punctuated with a threat that she would haunt them if she passed away, but they all knew her grandmother well enough to know that she didn’t like to ever be cooped up.

“How long do we have then? Did the doctor say?” Jihyo asked her mother, stifling her need to shed tears at the news she just heard. 

Her mother took a deep breath, “Well, he said we can’t fully ascertain it. But considering the complications are getting bad, your Halmeoni is probably looking at about six months to a year. Of course, the exact time depends on how well she’s able to handle things.”

Six months to a year, Jihyo repeated the thought in her head. That wasn’t a long period of time, and tears started to well up in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away, but her mother saw this, started to pat her back, and pulled her aside to the nearby benches. She put her arms around Jihyo as they sat down, and let her eldest daughter’s head rest on her shoulder as she started crying. Gwija rubbed her arm in consolation, “It’s alright Seungim-ah. We just have to make sure that your Halmeoni is happy before the inevitable happens.”

Amidst her tears, Jihyo took what her mother said to heart. Her grandmother had been her beacon of light and joy for her entire existence. It was time to pay that back, whatever it took. 

The family decided to retire for the night. Jihyo’s aunts and uncles still had to travel back to their respective cities, and instead resolved to meet more often this year for reunions given their mother’s condition. Gwija