갑자기 친정 아버지께서 입원을 하셨답니다. 작년부턴가 치매증세가 좀 있다고는 했지만 매일 돌봐준다는 노인복지관에 가셔서 친구분들이랑 운동도 하시고 점심도 잡숫고 하시니 크게 문제는 없나보다 했지요. 감기로 인해 열이 좀 오르고 배탈도 나셔서 입원을 하셨다는데 알고 보니, 노인 요양병원에 들어가신 것입니다. 대소변을 잘못 가리시기도 하는데 집에서는 누가 돌봐드릴 수도 없고 해서···사정이 그렇게 된 것입니다.
급할 것 까지는 없다지만 한 번 가서 뵈어야겠다 싶어 짬을 냈습니다. 워낙에 체구가 작은 분이 더 작아지셨습니다. 감정표현을 잘 하시지 않는 분이지만 무척 반가와 하시면서도 “나는 이러지 않을 거라 생각했다.”며 그런 처지의 자신에 대해 못내 서운해 하셨습니다. 늘 올곧고 깔끔하셨던 분이십니다. 높은 연세에도 방에 먼지 하나 없이 깨끗하게 청소하시고 옷매무새도 가지런히 챙기시던 분이셨습니다. 그런데 대소변도 마음대로 가려지지 않고 다른 사람의 도움을 받아야 하니 내심 무척이나 자존심이 상하신 것 같습니다. 누구보다 반듯하게 살아오셨고 누구에게 폐 끼치는 것을 싫어하신 분이셨으니 더욱 그러실 것입니다.
“그러게 말입니다. 사람 일이 그리 마음대로 되는 게 아닌 모양입니다. 너무 부담 갖지 마세요.”라는 어정쩡한 대답만 하고 민망스러워 뭐라고 말씀을 드려야 할 지 난감해 하는데 동생이 들어와서 여쭈었습니다. “약은 드셨습니까?” “그래 먹었다.” 웬걸, 드셨나 하고 협탁 위를 살피니 아니나 다를까 점심 식사 후에 드셔야 할 약이 그대로 있네요.
아버지는 성품이 조용하시고 빈틈이 없으신 데다 정직하셔서 평생 공직에서 의 일을 잘 마치셨고 직장 동료나 후배들에게 ‘법 없어도 사시는 분’으로 존경을 받아오셨습니다. 하지만 옛날 분들이 다 그러셨던 것처럼 자녀들에게 사랑의 표현을 한다든지 격려의 말을 별로 하신 적이 없었습니다. 말하자면 속정을 드러내지 않으신 게지요. 그래서 저는 자라면서 아버지가 나를 사랑하시는 지를 몰랐습니다. 좀 엄하시고 왠지 모르게 거리감이 느껴져서 그렇기도 했겠지요. 그런데 내가 결혼하고 언젠가 친정에 갔다 나오는데 한참을 따라 나오시면서도 여전히 별 말씀은 없었지만 ‘아, 아빠가 나를 사랑하시는구나!’라는 느낌이 들었던 것을 기억합니다. 그렇게 철이 들고 나서야 자식을 자랑스러워 하시며 믿어주시는 아버지의 마음을 엿볼 수 있었지요.
생각해보면 아버지가 이해가 되기도 합니다. 아버지는 11살에 어머니를 여의시고 곧바로 도시 농림학교로 유학(?)을 가셨으니 당신이 부모의 사랑을 잘 모르고 자라셨던 게지요. 그러니 딸자식이 사랑스러워도 어떻게 사랑 표현을 하는 것인지 아버지의 역할이 어떤 것인지 본 적도 없고 배울 수 있는 기회도 없었지요. 그렇다고 학교에서 그런 것을 가르쳐 주는 것도 아니잖아요. 말하자면 속 깊은 정을 내색하지도 않았고 할 줄도 모르셨던 게지요. 아버지를 많이 닮은 딸인데도 아버지를 이해하는 데는 시간이 꽤 걸렸던 것 같습니다.
이제는 팔십 중반을 넘기시고 노쇠해지신 아버지를 뵈면서 안쓰럽기도 하고 평생 식구들을 위해 애쓰신 노고를 갚아드리지도 못하는 것이 죄송하기도 했습니다. 함께 기도를 드리고 나면 눈물을 글썽이시며 “고맙다.”라며 웬일로 마음을 표현하시기도 합니다. 평생토록 위장병으로 앓는 아내 곁에서 한 번도 싫은 내색하지 않고 간호하시며 묵묵히, 표현하지 않는 것을 사나이의 덕으로 알고 사셨던 분입니다. 일찍이 아내를 천국에 보내시고 20년 가까이 지금도 그저 그러려니, 짐작만 하고 사시니 어찌 보면 매정해 보이기도 하지만 그 속정을 다 헤아릴 수가 없어서 안타까울 뿐입니다.
“아버지, 이제는 아들, 딸들에게 섭섭한 마음도 표현을 하시고 이런 저런 얘기도 좀 나누시면 좋겠어요. 그래야 함께 사는 식구들도 더 편안하게 대할 수 있을 테니 말입니다. 그리고 이제는 얼마 있지 않아 떠나게 될 세상일들일랑 훌훌 털어버리시고 천국소망으로 사시기 바랍니다. 아버지, 고맙습니다. 그리고 사랑합니다.”
Out of the blue, news came that my father had been admitted to the hospital. Since last year, there had been slight signs of dementia, but because he went every day to a senior welfare center that provided day care—exercising with friends and having lunch there—we thought there was no serious problem. We were told that he had caught a cold, run a slight fever, and suffered from an upset stomach, which led to his hospitalization. But as it turned out, he had been admitted to a geriatric nursing hospital. He was occasionally struggling with incontinence, and with no one able to nurse him full-time at home... that was how circumstances unfolded.
Although they said it wasn't critically urgent, I felt I had to go and see him, so I made some time. Always a man of small build, he had shrunk and looked even smaller. Though he is not one to show emotion easily, his joy at seeing me was unmistakable. Yet he lamented his condition, saying with deep sorrow, “I never thought I would end up like this.” He was always such an upright and immaculate person. Even in his advanced years, he would sweep his room until not a speck of dust remained, and he kept his attire impeccably neat. Losing control over his own bodily functions and having to rely on others must have wounded his pride to the core. Having lived more uprightly than anyone else and loathing to be a burden to others, this must have felt all the more devastating to him.
“I know, Father... Life doesn’t always go the way we plan, does it? Please don't feel too burdened,” I offered awkwardly, at a loss for proper words of comfort. Just then, my younger sibling walked in and asked, “Father, did you take your medicine?” “Yes, I took it.” But when we checked the bedside table to be sure, there it was—the medication he was supposed to take right after lunch was still sitting untouched.
My father is a quiet, meticulous, and upright man. Having completed a long career in public service with unblemished integrity, he was respected by colleagues and juniors alike as someone “who would live right even without laws.” Yet, like many men of his generation, he rarely expressed affection or spoke words of encouragement to his children. In other words, he kept his deep affection hidden inside. Growing up, I honestly didn't know whether my father loved me. He was somewhat stern, and an invisible distance always seemed to linger between us. But I still remember a day after I was married: as I was leaving my parents’ house after a visit, he walked behind me for quite a long distance. Though he still hardly said a word, in that quiet moment, it struck me: Ah, my father truly loves me! Only after growing mature myself was I able to catch a glimpse of a father's heart—a heart that believed in and was quietly proud of his children.
When I look back now, I can understand him. Having lost his own mother at the tender age of eleven, he was sent away to a city agricultural and forestry school to study. He grew up without truly knowing parental love himself. How, then, could he have known how to express love to his daughter, or what a father’s role looked like? He had never seen it, nor had he ever been given the chance to learn. After all, school never teaches such things. He simply did not show his profound, unspoken affection, nor did he know how. Even though I am a daughter who took after him so much, it took me a long time to truly understand my father.
Now, seeing my father in his mid-eighties, frail and weakened, my heart aches with pity, and I feel deeply remorseful that I cannot repay the lifelong toil he bore for our family. After we pray together, tears well up in his eyes, and he unusually opens his heart to say, “Thank you.” He was a man who spent a lifetime caring silently for his wife, who suffered from stomach ailments, never once showing a sign of displeasure, believing that quiet endurance was a man’s virtue. Having sent his wife to heaven early, he has lived for nearly twenty years simply taking things as they are, keeping everything within. At times it might seem cold on the outside, but it breaks my heart knowing how impossible it is to fathom the boundless depth of warmth inside him.
“Father, from now on, please feel free to express whenever you feel upset, and share little stories with your sons and daughters. That way, the family caring for you will feel more at ease, too. And please let go of all the lingering affairs of this world that you will leave behind before long, and live holding onto the hope of heaven. Father, thank you. And I love you.”
Heeltemal onverwags het die nuus gekom dat my pa in die hospitaal opgeneem is. Van verlede jaar af was daar al ligte tekens van demensie, maar aangesien hy elke dag na ’n dagsorgsentrum vir bejaardes gegaan het—waar hy saam met vriende geoefen en middagete geëet het—het ons gereken daar is nie ’n groot probleem nie. Daar is aan ons gesê hy is opgeneem weens ’n verkoue, ligte koors en maagongesteldheid, maar toe blyk dit dat hy in ’n versorgingshospitaal vir bejaardes opgeneem is. Hy het soms begin sukkel met inkontinensie, en aangesien niemand hom voltyds tuis kon versorg nie... het omstandighede so verloop.
Al is daar gesê dit is nie dringend nie, het ek gevoel ek moet hom gaan besoek, en ek het tyd ingeruim. Hy was altyd ’n man van klein postuur, maar nou het hy nog kleiner gelyk. Alhoewel hy nie iemand is wat maklik sy emosies wys nie, was hy baie bly om my te sien, maar het tog met diepe hartseer gesê: “Ek het nooit gedink ek sou só eindig nie,” terwyl hy sy eie toestand betreur het. Hy was nog altyd ’n regskape en vlekkelose man. Selfs op sy hoë ouderdom het hy sy kamer so skoon gehou dat daar nie ’n stofie te vinde was nie, en sy klere was altyd netjies versorg. Om beheer oor sy eie liggaamlike behoeftes te verloor en van ander se hulp afhanklik te wees, moes sy selfrespek diep gekrenk het. Aangesien hy meer opreg as enigiemand anders gelewe het en dit verafsku het om vir enigiemand tot las te wees, moes dit vir hom des te swaarder wees.
“Ja, Pa... dinge in die lewe verloop blykbaar nie altyd soos ’n mens beplan nie. Moet asseblief nie te swaar daaraan dra nie,” het ek lomp probeer troos, verleë oor wat om te sê. Net toe kom my jonger broer/suster in en vra: “Pa, het Pa die medisyne geneem?” “Ja, ek het.” Maar toe ons op die bedkassie kyk, het die medisyne wat hy ná middagete moes neem, presies net so onaangeraak daar gelê.
My pa is van geaardheid stil, deeglik en eerlik. Hy het ’n lewenslange loopbaan in die staatsdiens met eer voltooi en is deur kollegas en juniors gerespekteer as iemand “wat reg sou lewe selfs sonder wette.” Maar soos baie mense van sy generasie, het hy selde liefde betoon of woorde van bemoediging aan sy kinders gerig. Hy het, om die waarheid te sê, sy innerlike geneentheid weggesteek. Terwyl ek grootgeword het, het ek dus nooit regtig geweet of my pa my liefhet nie. Hy was taamlik streng, en daar was altyd ’n onverklaarbare afstand tussen ons. Maar ek onthou hoe ek ná my troue eendag by my ouerhuis gekuier het; toe ek loop, het hy ’n lang ent agter my aangestap, steeds sonder om veel te sê. En tog het die besef my getref: A, Pa is tog lief vir my! Eers toe ek volwasse geword het, kon ek ’n kykie kry in my pa se hart—’n hart wat trots was op sy kinders en in hulle geglo het.
As ek daaroor nadink, kan ek my pa beter verstaan. Hy het sy eie ma op die teer ouderdom van elf verloor en is dadelik na ’n landbou- en bosbouskool in die stad gestuur om te studeer; hy het self grootgeword sonder om werklik ouerliefde te ken. Hoe sou hy dan weet hoe om liefde aan sy dogter te betoon, of hoe ’n pa se rol lyk? Hy het dit nooit gesien nie en nooit die geleentheid gehad om dit te leer nie. Die skool leer ’n mens immers nie sulke dinge nie. Hy het eenvoudig nie sy diepe toegeneentheid gewys nie, en hy het ook nie geweet hoe nie. Alhoewel ek ’n dogter is wat baie na hom aard, het dit my lank geneem om my pa werklik te verstaan.
Noudat ek my pa sien, verby die middel tagtig en broos van ouderdom, krimp my hart ineen van deernis, en ek voel skuldig dat ek nie sy lewenslange swoeg vir ons gesin kan vergoed nie. Nadat ons saam gebid het, staan die trane in sy oë, en hy sê ongewoon hartlik: “Dankie.” Hy is ’n man wat lewenslank getrou aan die sy van sy siek vrou gestaan het wat aan maagkwale gely het, sonder om ooit ’n sweempie van ongeduld te toon—hy het stilswye as ’n man se deug beskou. Hy het sy vrou vroeg al aan die hemel afgestaan en leef nou al byna twintig jaar lank deur dinge maar net te aanvaar en binnetoe te hou. Van buite mag dit dalk gevoelloos lyk, maar my hart breek omdat ’n mens nooit die peillose diepte van sy innerlike liefde ten volle kan peil nie.
“Pa, ek wens Pa wil van nou af maar Pa se seerkry met u seuns en dogters deel en sommer net lekker gesels. Dan sal die gesin wat saam met Pa leef, ook meer op hul gemak wees. En laat vaar nou maar die aardse sorge van hierdie wêreld wat Pa binnekort sal verlaat, en leef met die hoop op die hemel. Pa, baie dankie. En ek is lief vir Pa.”