요즘 참 하고 싶은 일들이 많습니다. 뇌까지 익어버릴 것 같던 길고도 긴 여름이 끝나가니 쓰고 싶은 글 주제들도 하나 둘 떠오르고, 반년째 혼자 듀오링고 앱에 대고 꿍얼꿍얼 어설프게 익히고 있는 프랑스어도 이제는 '진짜 사람'한테서 좀 배워보고 싶고 그래요. 언제는 그렇게 맘에 쏙 든다고 자랑을 했던 익숙하고 편안한 집을 두고 다음엔 또 어디서 살아볼까 괜히 이 동네 저 동네 흘긋거리기도 합니다.
또 한 가지, 그동안 썼던 에세이들을 영어로 옮기고 싶어졌어요. 저는 원어민도 아니고, 번역가는 더더욱 아니며, 20년도 더 전에 5개월간 어학연수를 했던 기간을 제외하면 오로지 대한민국에서만 살아온 네이티브 코리안이라 영어 실력이 완벽하지않습니다. 그래도 그냥, 작년 겨울 문득 내 마음을 나만의 글로 담아내고 싶어 견딜 수 없었듯이, 지금은 그 마음을새로운 그릇에도 올려 보고 싶어졌습니다. 영어권 독자분들 중에도 혹 저와 마음이 닿는 분이 있을까 궁금하더라구요(라고 하면서 우리 플랫폼 브런치에 올리는 아이러니...흠흠;;).
이제 하고 싶은 게 생기면, 뭐든 하면서 살려고요. 앞으로 나는 정말로 그렇게 살아보려 합니다.그러다 좀 틀려도 뭐 대수겠어요? "어이쿠, 헤헤..." 하고 뒤통수 한 번 긁고는 또 걸어가렵니다. 그토록 나를 놔주지 않던 끈질긴 불안과 드디어 좀 멀어지고 나니, 어리둥절하면서도 두둠칫 흥이 납니다. 마침내 나의 두 다리로 단단히 딛고 서서는, 고개 쭉 빼고 세상 이곳저곳 기웃거려 보려고 해요. 도전!!
(감사하게도 무료로 사용할 수 있는 각종 번역기들과 네이버 사전이 있어 큰 도움을 받았습니다. 저의 '글투'를 살리고 싶어 노력했지만 '느낌적인 느낌'이 부족하여 실제로는 어떻게 담겼을지 모르겠습니다. 이 글은 브런치 상 제 첫 에세이인 '아빠'의 영어 버전입니다.)
I had known my father for a long time, yet I did not truly know him 'well.' He lived from 1933 to 2022, and since I was born in 1980, he spent approximately 90 years in this world, 42 of which were as a father and daughter with me. Until I became an adult, I only knew him as the 'villain' who ruined the family fortune with failed business and stocks, having no job, and became violent to my mother when he got drunk. Protecting my mother from this villain became the most important mission for me as a child (though no one said so, I accepted it as such on my own), and I believed that comforting my unfortunate mother-who could not rely emotionally or financially on her husband-and bringing her hope was the essence and the reason of my existence. Thanks to maturing so early, I compensated for my mother’s struggles with academic achievements that were the best and most I could do at that time, and I became the 'good, money-saving daughter' through constant part-time work and scholarships.
Upon reflection, the villain was quite tender sometimes. When a quite grown ten-year-old girl woke up in the damp discomfort of a wet blanket, feeling scared, mother was frightening and father was indifferent. When I asked him for some help, he casually fliped the blanket over so the wet side was down and remarked, “This will work perfectly.” and returned to a deep, undisturbed sleep. Though ultimately caught and scolded by mom due to the inevitable stench, the calmness that dad exhibited before the moment of discovery became a grateful refuge. After getting married and living separately, when I got really sick overnight, he always called me the next morning. He said he had dreamed about me looking troubled and called to check if I was okay, displaying an uncanny precision in sensing my distress. I came to understand, quite late, that ‘Dad might love me.’ Despite being puzzled about whether dad was a villain or someone who loved me, I slowly began to realize that being 'a bad husband to my mom' does not necessarily mean being 'a bad dad to me'.
I felt that I had come to know my father a little better around the time he was about to pass away. He wished to close his eyes 'at his home, in his room' and because he did not suffer from any terminal illness, he left this world peacefully at home not in a hospital. I witnessed two individuals, who had quarreled and hated fiercely all their lives, dramatically reconcile and confess their love for each other. I saw an old woman, who had been accustomed to the routine of visiting hospitals due to her ailments, dedicated herself to the remaining life of an older man. My father gradually became unable to eat and grew increasingly thin, often traversing the borders of consciousness and unconsciousness. In my father's room there was a computer, and when he briefly regained awareness, I suddenly asked him if he wanted to listen to some music. He faintly yet distinctly nodded his head, and as if it had been prearranged, I naturally searched for a jazz playlist and played it for him. Sensing his satisfaction, I felt proud of myself for having such a good idea as I closed the door behind me. That late night, embraced with the familiar jazz melodies that he used to enjoy in his younger days, my father took his last breath. He did not explicitly ask me for music that day, but I just knew that he needed it. Fortunately, I parted from him having come to know him 'a little better' like that.
