오늘은 슬픈 날입니다. 헤어짐의 슬픔이 마음을 아프게 합니다. 어린 남동생들을 위해서 꽃다운 시절을 오롯이 희생한 참 좋은 누님을 눈물과 아픔과 이별이 없는 아버지의 품으로 보낸 날입니다. 1960년대 우리나라가 모두 가난한 시절 누나들은 동생들을, 특히 남동생들을 위해서 자신을 희생하는 일은 아주 자연스런 선택이었습니다. 그것이 얼마나 고귀한 희생인지 아무도 인정해 주지 않던 시절이었고, 어쩌면 본인들도 다 알지 못했지만, 희생하는 것은 당연한 도리로 여기던 시절입니다. 그 시절 누나들의 선택은 시골에서 도시로 나가서, 서울로 올라가서 공장에 취직을 하는 소위 공순이의 길을 걷던 시절입니다.
아버지가 돌아가셨을 때, 나는 16살이고 막내 동생은 10살이었으니 18살의 누이로서는, 두 남동생의 앞날을 어머니께만 맡겨둘 수 없었을 겁니다. 그래서 서울로 올라와서 방직공장에 취직을 하고, 대방동에 자취를 하면서, 혼자 헤쳐가기도 힘든 도시 생활에서, 라면조차 사먹을 수 없어서, 라면 부스러기를 사서 먹는, 끼니조차 아껴서 동생들의 뒷바라지를 했기에 오늘의 저와 동생이 있습니다. 어제 모처럼 동생과 통화를 했는데, 동생은 자기 인생에서 어머님을 그리고 누나와 형을 만난 것이 지금의 아내를 만난 것처럼 큰 축복이었다고 서로 주고 받았는데 … 그 동생뿐 아니라 나도 잊지 못하는 누나인데 ㅠㅠ 그나마 우리는 지난 설날 잠깐 만났고, 알뜰 살뜰 챙겨주는 남편 덕분에, 비록 일어나서 움직이는 못하고 누워계셨지만, 얼굴에 살도 포동포동하다고 놀리기도 했는데~~ ㅠ
누님과 자형, 두 분은 각자 첫 배우자와는 사별을 하고, 누님의 경우에는 10년 넘게 혼자 살다가 재혼을 했고, 두 분이 함께 살았던 세월이 20년을 훌쩍 넘겼으니 결코 짧은 기간은 아닙니다. 갑작스런 소식 때문에 월, 화, 수요일 일정을 취소하거나 재조정하고 개포동에 사는 조카를 데리고 하동에 도착하니 오후 5시경이었습니다. 누님의 영정 사진은 20년전 결혼사진 그대로 온화한 모습이지만 더 이상 교감할 수 있는 대상이 아니니 그것이 우리를 슬프게 합니다. 제일 많이 슬퍼하고 우는 사람은 남편이신 장로님입니다. 몇 차례 “사랑했는데”라며 말끝을 흐리는 장로님의 말을 들으며 아내를 향한 따뜻한 마음이 느껴졌습니다. 누님은 참으로 남편의 사랑을 끝까지 받은 복 받은 여인이었습니다.
두 분 다 재혼을 했을 때는 이미 나이가 많았고, 남편 쪽에는 두 아들, 그 중에 이번에 만난 둘째 아들네는 아이가 다섯인데 홈스쿨을 하며 부모의 사랑을 받은 아이들답게 반듯하게 잘 자라서 보기만 해도 예뻤습니다. 누님네 조카들도 모두 40대이니, 서로 의지하고 돕는 모습을 보며, 이런 자리에는 역시 자녀가 많아야 복이라는 말이 실감이 났습니다. 자녀들이 출석하는 교회 성도들이 원근각처에서 오셔서 예배하고 두분이 장로님 권사님으로 계시는 교회 목사님께서 모든 절차를 맡아주셨습니다. “권사님은 최선을 다해 교회를 섬기셨습니다. 몸이 불편하고 아프셨음에도 불구하고 할수 있을 때까지 새벽기도와 모든 예배에 나오셨으며 건강이 허락할 때까지 최선을 다해서 봉사하셨습니다. 권사님은 정말로 진심으로 하나님을 사랑하는 분이셨습니다.” 앞서거니 뒤서거니 사람은 모두 떠나갑니다. 다만 예수님을 통해서 하늘로 가는 길이 열린 사람에게는 죽음은 삶의 끝이 아니라 새로운 삶의 시작이기에 노래하면서 이별할 수 있습니다. 하늘 아버지께서 맡긴 사명을 잘 감당하시고, 사람들에게 도움의 손을 내밀기를 마다 않으시고 당신의 몫을 잘 감당해 주셔서 감사합니다. 누님, 수고 많았습니다. 사랑합니다. 남편과 자녀들뿐 아니라 정근두와 정행두, 두 동생이 정춘지가 누님이라는 사실을 자랑스럽게 여기고, 당신을 누님으로 우리에게 보내주신 하나님께 감사합니다.
Today is a sorrowful day. The pain of parting weighs heavily on my heart. It is the day we sent our beloved eldest sister—who devoted the prime of her youth to sacrifice wholly for her younger brothers—into the arms of our Father, where there are no tears, pain, or parting. In the 1960s, when our entire nation was steeped in poverty, it was seen as a completely natural choice for older sisters to sacrifice themselves for their younger siblings, especially their brothers. In those days, no one recognized how noble such a sacrifice was, and perhaps the sisters themselves hardly realized it, taking it simply as an obvious duty. Back then, their path often meant leaving rural villages for the big city, heading up to Seoul to work long hours in factories, walking the arduous road of young female factory workers.
When our father passed away, I was sixteen and my youngest brother was ten; an eighteen-year-old sister simply could not leave the future of her two younger brothers solely in our mother’s hands. So she traveled up to Seoul, found work at a textile factory, and rented a small room in Daebang-dong. In a harsh city life where surviving alone was already overwhelming, she could not even afford a proper packet of instant ramen, buying cheap ramen crumbs instead and skipping meals to support her younger brothers. It is thanks to her that my brother and I are who we are today. Just yesterday, I had a rare phone conversation with my brother. We shared how having our mother, our sister, and each other in our lives was just as great a blessing as meeting our wives… She is an unforgettable sister not only to him but to me as well. Thankfully, we were able to visit her briefly this past Lunar New Year. Thanks to her devoted husband, who cared for her with such tender devotion, she lay resting—unable to get up and move, yet with full, rosy cheeks—and we even playfully teased her about looking so well.
Both my sister and my brother-in-law had lost their first spouses to bereavement. In my sister's case, she lived alone for over ten years before remarrying. The years they spent together well exceeded twenty, so it was by no means a short time. Upon hearing the sudden news, I canceled and rearranged my schedule for Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, picked up my nephew living in Gaepo-dong, and arrived in Hadong around 5:00 PM. The memorial portrait of my sister showed her gentle smile, just as she looked in their wedding photo twenty years ago; yet the realization that we can no longer share heartfelt conversations in this life brings deep sorrow. The one grieving and weeping the most was her husband, the elder. Hearing him trail off several times with the words, "I loved her so much," conveyed his profound, tender affection for his wife. My sister was truly a blessed woman, receiving her husband’s devoted love right until the very end.
When they remarried, both were already well on in years. On her husband’s side were two sons; the second son’s family, whom I met this time, has five children. Homeschooled and raised with abundant parental love, the children grew up so upright and lovely that just looking at them warmed the heart. My sister’s nieces and nephews are all in their forties now, and seeing them lean on and support one another truly made me realize the truth of the saying that having many children is a great blessing on occasions like this. Members of the church attended by the children came from far and near to worship, and the pastor of the church where the couple served faithfully as an elder and senior deaconess took charge of all the funeral proceedings. "Our senior deaconess served the church with all her heart. Even when her body was weak and in pain, she came to early morning prayer and every worship service as long as she could, serving to the best of her ability as long as her health allowed. She was truly someone who loved God with all her heart." Sooner or later, every person departs from this world. However, for those to whom the way to heaven has been opened through Jesus Christ, death is not the end of life, but the beginning of a new one—and so we can bid farewell with songs of praise. Thank you, dear sister, for faithfully fulfilling the mission entrusted to you by our Heavenly Father, for never hesitating to lend a helping hand to others, and for carrying your share so well. Rest now from your labors, dear sister. You did so well. We love you. Not only your husband and children, but your two brothers, Keun-Doo Jung and Haeng-Doo Jung, are profoundly proud that Choon-Ji Jung was our sister, and we thank God for sending you to be our elder sister.
Vandag is ’n droewige dag. Die smart van afskeid druk swaar op my hart. Dit is die dag waarop ons ons geliefde ousus—wat die fleur van haar jeug volkome opgeoffer het ter wille van haar jonger boeties—huis toe gestuur het na die Vader se arms, waar daar geen trane, pyn of skeiding meer is nie. In die 1960’s, toe ons hele land in diepe armoede gedompel was, was dit vir ouer susters ’n heeltemal natuurlike keuse om hulself vir hul broers en susters, veral hul jonger boeties, op te offer. In daardie dae het niemand erken hoe edel so ’n opoffering was nie, en dalk het hulle dit self nie eens ten volle besef nie; hulle het dit bloot as ’n vanselfsprekende plig beskou. Destyds was die pad van sulke susters om van die platteland na die stad te vertrek, na Seoel te gaan en as fabriekswerkers lang en uitmergelende ure te swoeg.
Toe ons pa oorlede is, was ek sestien en my jongste boetie tien; as agttienjarige meisie kon my ousus die toekoms van haar twee jonger broers eenvoudig nie net aan ons ma alleen oorlaat nie. Sy het dus na Seoel vertrek, werk in ’n tekstielfabriek gekry en in ’n enkelkamertjie in Daebang-dong gaan woon. In ’n stadlewe wat op sigself reeds oorweldigend moeilik was om alleen te trotseer, kon sy nie eens bekostig om ’n gewone pakkie kitsnoedels te koop nie. Sy het goedkoop krummelstukkies noedels gekoop en selfs op etes besnoei om haar broers te onderhou—en dit is danksy haar dat ek en my boetie vandag hier staan. Gister het ek na ’n lang tyd weer met my boetie oor die foon gepraat. Ons het daaroor gesels dat om ons ma, ons ousus en mekaar in ons lewe te hê, net so ’n groot seëning was as om ons eggenotes te ontmoet… Sy is ’n suster wat nóg hy nóg ek ooit sal vergeet. Genadiglik kon ons haar gedurende die afgelope Nuwejaarsfees kortliks besoek. Danksy haar man, wat met soveel liefdevolle toewyding vir haar gesorg het, het sy gerus—al kon sy nie meer opstaan en beweeg nie, het haar wange nog gesond en vol gelyk, en ons het haar selfs liefdevol geterg daaroor.
My suster en my swaer het albei vroeër hul eerste huweliksmaats aan die dood afgestaan. In my suster se geval het sy meer as tien jaar lank alleen gewoon voordat sy weer getrou het, en die jare wat hulle saam gedeel het, was ruim meer as twintig—geensins ’n kort tydjie nie. Weens die skielike nuus het ek my afsprake vir Maandag, Dinsdag en Woensdag gekanselleer of verskuif, my susterskind in Gaepo-dong gaan oplaai en omstreeks 17:00 in Hadong aangekom. Haar begrafnisportret het dieselfde sagte, vriendelike glimlag gewys as op hul troufoto twintig jaar gelede; tog maak dit ons diep hartseer dat ons nie meer in hierdie lewe van hart tot hart met haar kan gesels nie. Die een wat die bitterste getreur en gehuil het, was haar man, die ouderling. Toe ek hom telkemale met ’n bewerige stem hoor sê: "Ek het haar so liefgehad," kon ek die diepe warmte in sy hart vir sy vrou tasbaar aanvoel. My ousus was waarlik ’n geseënde vrou wat tot die heel einde die toegewyde liefde van haar man geniet het.
Toe hulle weer in die huwelik getree het, was albei reeds op gevorderde leeftyd. Aan haar man se kant was daar twee seuns; die gesin van die tweede seun, wat ek hierdie keer ontmoet het, het vyf kinders. Hulle ontvang tuisonderrig en word met soveel ouerliefde gekoester dat hulle opregte, voorbeeldige kinders is—’n vreugde om te aanskou. My suster se eie susterskinders is nou almal in hul veertigs, en om te sien hoe hulle op mekaar steun en mekaar bystaan, het my weer laat besef hoe waar die gesegde is dat ’n groot kinderskaar ’n ware seën op sulke tye is. Lidmate van die kerk wat die kinders bywoon, het van heinde en ver gekom om saam te aanbid, en die leraar van die gemeente waar die egpaar getrou as ouderling en senior diakones gedien het, het al die begrafnisreëlings gelei. "Ons diakones het die kerk met haar hele hart gedien. Selfs toe haar liggaam swak en siek was, het sy so lank sy enigsins kon die vroeë oggendgebede en elke erediens bygewoon, en sy het na die beste van haar vermoë gedien solank haar gesondheid dit toegelaat het. Sy was waarlik iemand wat die Here met haar hele wese liefgehad het." Vroeër of later moet elke mens hierdie aardse lewe verlaat. Maar vir diegene vir wie die pad na die hemel deur Jesus Christus oopgemaak is, is die dood nie die einde nie, maar die begin van ’n nuwe lewe—en daarom kan ons met lofsange afskeid neem. Baie dankie, liewe ousus, dat u die roeping wat ons Hemelse Vader aan u toevertrou het, so getrou vervul het; dat u nooit gehuiwer het om ’n helpende hand na ander uit te steek nie, en dat u u lewenstaak so dapper gedra het. Rus sag na u troue arbeid, liewe ousus. Ons is baie lief vir u. Nie net u man en kinders nie, maar ook Keun-Doo Jung en Haeng-Doo Jung, u twee broers, is oneindig trots dat Choon-Ji Jung ons ousus was, en ons dank God dat Hy u as ons suster aan ons geskenk het.