I talked to a ghost last night. All right. Fine. To be more accurate, I spoke to a departed soul. Sure, I might be crazy. No, I'm not mystical. But I absolutely agree that I'm a little strange. I go into the cemetery at night, for I have absolutely nothing to fear, other than fear itself. Do you want a little background?
Ten years ago, on October 7, 1996, a 13-year-old Korean missionary kid was killed in a car accident about five hours from here. I was 14 at the time and didn't know Hyo Jin very well. But for some reason - I can't explain - her death made a tremendous impact on me. Whenever I'm in Miango, the village in which she's buried, I visit her grave and just have a short one-sided conversation with her. It's something I've done for ten years now.
I wonder what she would have been like today if she'd lived. Would she be finished her first year of med school? Would she be vibrant and energetic, or studious and quiet? Would she have sent her younger sister long letters about life and making wise choices? Would she be married to an incredible young man who shared her goals and dreams? I wonder. Obviously, these are thinsg I'll never know, for her life ended all too soon.
So I will continue to kneel by Hyo Jin's grave and talk to her ghost.
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