When I came back from school, my mom used to make me bibimbap mixed with young radish kimchi, boiled barley, a spoonful of red pepper paste, and drops of perilla oil. It was one of my favorite foods. But over the past ten years, I did not eat bibimbap. Just looking at it, I was choked and tears welled up that I could not eat it.
A decade ago, I heard from my brother that Mom had only one week to live. Although my mother was suffering from cancer, she had no big problem in her living. Whenever I talk to her on the phone, she always sounded positive that I thought she would be able to overcome her illness. So I could not believe what my brother said. I thought in my mind all the way to my mother, ‘Mom will never fall easily.’
As soon as I saw her face, however, I flopped down on the floor. Her whole body had turned yellow, and her belly had swelled up due to ascites. I foolishly thought that she was fine as she had always said she was okay. It was because of my illusion and indifference to her. Even though her whole body was broken, she had never said, “I’m having a hard time in pain.” She had not been treated well by her children in her whole life. Seeing my mother lying down feebly, I beat my chest.
‘I’m really a bad daughter. I’ve never fathomed Mom’s heart even once!’ Two days after I cared for her, mom gained color and her swollen belly came right back. However, after three days, she even forgot that I was married, and just talked about her childhood memories. Mom said that she wanted to eat bibimbap which she had eaten in her hometown.
“Mom, I promise to make you bibimbap when you return home. You made it for me often. I’ll surely make it for you. Please bear up a little more.”
We promised to enjoy bibimbap together, but as the doctor predicted, Mom passed away in a week. ‘Mom, do you know how much your youngest daughter misses you and is still heartbroken whenever I see bibimbap?’