By Kim Ji-soo
Staff Reporter
Even in this age of botox, laser treatments and other nip-and-tuck surgeries, the faces of our grandparents, chockfull of white hair, creases and slow smiles, are comforting to the young. The young, either unconsciously or consciously, realize that they represent the travails of life's progress.
But it's another experience to watch tears wet these masks of serene submission. There may well be nothing more poignant; yet, poignant may also be too pretty a word to describe the tears of Korean separated families.
Just before "Chuseok," from Sept. 26 through Oct. 1, elderly separated families of the Korean War (1950-1953) reunited at Mt. Geumgang, North Korea.
The meeting was significant in that it took place after a two-year hiatus as the North Korean nuclear issue created a pause in inter-Korean relations. It was also the 17th reunion since the first direct one took place on the Korean Peninsula in August 2000. Prior to that, South Koreans with separated families had to rely on special, one-time reunions with families in the North when breakthrough inter-Korean official meetings were held or they had to reunite in a third country.
When snippets of family reunions first aired on national television, the entire nation cried. Now, the country is more accustomed to it.
But what caught my eyes were how aged the families were. Pictures full of white hair dominated the images sent out by the joint press corps from Mt. Geumgang. The faces were lined, with numerous creases having been earned over the years. There was a 100-year-old mother from the South, Kim Yu-jung, meeting her daughter, the 75-year-old Ri Hye-Gyeong from the North. They were meeting for the first time in more than five decades. Wives and husbands, brothers and sisters, and cousins - all meeting for the first time in several decades. Because the participants were so advanced in their years, what should have been a joyful reunion seemed overshadowed by the question of whether they will ever see each other again.
For most of us who have just spent Chuseok hanging out with our family and eating an abundant array of food, the idea of a "first reunion in half-a-century" may well seem as distant as Mars. That, however, is a common reality for these separated Korean families.
Since 1988, a total of 127,456 have applied with the South Korean Red Cross to be reunited with their separated kin in the communist North. Among the applicants, 86,352 are still alive. Among those still alive and waiting for that reunion, about 32,000 are 80 or older. But with each passing year, more and more of them pass away. In rare instances, the families-in-waiting take their own lives because of the devastation of not being selected for the reunion. A man in his 70s jumped to his death in a subway station when he did not make the list for the recent 17th reunion at Mt. Geumgang.
The inter-Korean relations are gaining momentum, if the flurry of diplomatic trips happening in Northeast Asia is any attestation. Too often the reunion issue has taken a backseat to politics. It's time for the officials who are in charge to think creatively to fulfill the lifelong wishes of these elderly separated Korean families. Local editorials have called for opting to implement the former West Germany's method of financially rewarding the former East Germany in return for the freeing of political prisoners. The government is in thralls to take the initiative in the inter-Korean relations with its "Grand Bargain." Why not innovatively insert the reunion of families in the bargain? Admittedly, the North is not particularly excited about it, but we should at least give it a try.