Then, She Began to Weep

By Jayson Pagaduan / Spring 2026

It was as if the earth itself wanted to ease her pain. The clouds covered the harsh summer sun, the wind refreshing us from the sticky, humid air of South Korea. The birds sang happy melodies to one another, and the bugs parted to give us space to lay down our mat. 

After I was done helping prepare the area, I too took off my shoes and joined the rest of my family. They knelt in position, my grandma taking the center with her sisters to her left and her brother to her right. Since it was my first time in this sort of situation, I decided to kneel near the back. The black stone remained where it stood.

Then, she began to weep. Tears streamed down my grandma’s face. It’d been over 18 years since she’d last seen her oldest sister, and though she passed a few years prior, the grief of losing her must have felt as fresh as ever. Kneeling before the grave, she cried and apologized profusely for not coming back to see her sooner.

The other siblings cried alongside her. But as someone who didn’t even know the name of my grandma’s deceased sister, I wasn’t exactly sure how to feel or how to act at that moment.

I first dipped my head down, admiring the beauty of the flowers brought by my family. Then, I raised my head slightly to gaze at myself in the reflection of the gravestone, finally returning back to a lower posture to pay my respects.

I wondered what kind of person she was. Did she have the same, crinkled smile as my grandma? Did she laugh the same way we do? Did she care for her family as much as my grandma cared for me?

What pain my grandma must feel, knowing the answers to these questions. A blur began to form. Then a tear. Then soon, I also started to cry.

A few moments later, once everything was let out, we began to unpack the rest of the things we brought with us to the cemetery. Most of it was food, though I didn’t know the names of most of them. And there was some makgeolli too, though that was my first time seeing it.

Together we prayed for the food before us and gave our respects once more to the dead. We sat still for a few moments, as if giving time for her spirit to partake in the meal first, before eventually partaking in it ourselves.

As delicious as the food was, I still couldn’t shake off the lingering sadness. However, looking back towards my grandma, I could see some sort of shift. A new glow. Even with reddened eyes, she still had a brightness to her as we ate together. How?, I wondered.

But as I began to trace her gaze, I started to see things from her perspective, entering the world through her mahogany brown eyes.

I first saw the grave of my dear sister, its dark surface reflecting the rest of our family. I turned to see my brother tearing the yukjeon for my grandson to eat, and I saw my two sisters, one older one younger, carefully cutting the fruit we brought as a dessert. I looked at them all, feeling their presence around me.

That’s when I found the answer to my question. My grandma still had us, still loved us. Even as she experienced loss, she used that grief to grow in her appreciation for the people she still had in her life. Though we too would eventually pass, that’s exactly what made our time together all the more precious.

After we finished eating, we took our time packing up, wanting to embrace every last second of our time together with my grandma’s sister. My grandma and I weren’t going to be back for a while, especially since tickets to South Korea would take years of saving, as it had for this trip.

With slow, rhythmic steps, we made our way back to the car. The clouds still loomed over us, still protecting us from the summer rays. The birds were now gone, though in their place were the songs my family exchanged with one another.

My eyes followed along the rows of dark gravestones, envisioning other grandmas, grandsons, and grandma’s siblings at their feet. I saw other families in the distance, in the same kneeling stance we were just in, with children staring into their reflections, not yet fully aware of whom they have left beside them.

At last, I turned to see my grandma as she walked alongside her siblings.

“Where are we going now?” I asked as I took her hand.

“We’re going to see great-grandma,” she replied. A warm smile spread across her face.

Fortunately, my great-grandmother had not passed away yet despite being nearly 100 years old. That meant we were going to be making the most of the time we still had with her.

“I understand.” I smiled back, holding her hand just a little tighter.