My Mother's Song

Mar 15. 2026

I ran up Little Mountain* early this morning and stood at the top for a while, looking out over the city.

Cherry blossoms were beginning to apear here and there around town, and the great northern mountains glowed beneath a crystal-clear blue sky. That’s when the simple joy of being alive struck me, and I began to sing—because why not?

Then I thought of my mother. Her Alzheimer’s has been steady and slow—thank God. Her memories are slowly but surely evaporating, her neurons becoming more and more disconnected. Yet she remains full of love and tenderness, without a single trace of self-pity.

Knowing that this is a one-way journey with no turning back, I understand that her time on earth may not be long. So I sang

another song—this time my mother's favorite old song, 찔레꽃.

Released in 1941, the song is as old as my mother. I had never paid much attention to the lyrics before, but it is a sad song. Written during the brutal years of Japanese colonial rule, the song carries the longing for home felt by many Koreans scattered across Manchuria and northern China.

Funny how, all my life, I’ve seen Koreans sing this song as if it were a happy one, often accompanied by dancing. Maybe they were right—maybe that is the right way to sing it.

So as I sang and hummed the melody, a quiet smile came to my face, I even did a little dance, like an awkward runner along the path, knowing that someday I will sing it again with tears in my eyes, after she has gone from this world.