We all grieve in the same language

Today I remembered that, no matter where one goes, we're all just people. We all feel, we all experience new challenges, we all laugh, celebrate big moments, and we all grieve. Wednesday evening I received a phone call from a co-worker telling me that my former co-teacher of 1 1/2 years was no longer with us. My bereaved friend could hardly speak, let alone articulate the situation in English. In shock, I walked up 2 flights of stairs and knocked on Cindy's door, unable to process the news myself. While Cindy finished a long-distance phone call, I sat on her bed in stillness. After 5 minutes, Cindy hung up the phone, asked me "what's wrong", and I fell apart. No one told me the details of Kee Jeong's death, but I could only assume that it was the 3rd leading cause of death for Korean women: suicide. Cindy and I cried together for a while, then I went back to my room and fell into a troubled sleep. Thursday morning I awoke, a bit foggy, got ready for school and was about to walk out the door when I realized where I was going: to the classroom Kim Kee Jeong and I shared. She designed it, we took turns napping on the sofa, we shared intimate conversations, tears, so much laughter, and a common passion to teach children. The tears flowed freely as I remembered Kee Jeong's compassion and love and her giving spirit. She is the reason I fell so easily into teaching here, why I made friends with my co-workers so easily, her praise won us both extra teaching jobs, trainings, and competitions. This continued for the 30-minute drive to work and I finally pulled it together as I entered my school. But walking into the staff room, I found Choi Yoo Jin, the teacher who called me the previous night, and all it took was a glance to break down again. Yoo Jin and I started teaching in Korea on the same day almost 2 years ago. Kee Jeong showed us around the school, introduced us to other teachers, problem-solved, tutored, and mentored us as first-time Korean elementary school teachers. During the 2009 school year, the three of us were the English department. We went on school field trips together, out to dinner, on girl-scout trips, and to concerts. It is impossible to think of my time in Korea without thinking of Kee Jeong.

After school, I was invited to join the wake at Kee Jeong's Catholic Church with other teachers & staff. I gave the customary monetary donation to the family and payed my respects to an altar of flowers and her picture. I cried with her sister and prayed with my fellow teachers, ate rice and seaweed soup, and saw many other teachers from other schools who I have taught with or met through Kee Jeong. Even though I don't know the funeral customs in Korea or of Korean Catholics, I found that I felt the same as those grieving for a close friend beside me. I didn't need to saw anything, nor did they.

So the biggest question is: what happened? Why is she gone? I don't know. The general assumption seems to be that she took her own life because of the pressures and stress of being a 35 year old, unmarried, elementary school head-teacher. Although that may seem extreme to an onlooker, the stress here is like nothing I've ever experienced. It can be constant, continuous, and never-ending. As a yogi, I believe that we have the ability to create our reality and our reactions. I know Kee Jeong did her best to find happiness. She had a great Catholic faith and deep devotion to God. We talked for hours about being happy, about letting things go and not trying to control the uncontrollable things in life. I know about a lot of the pressures she felt, though surely not all. I also knew that as a world traveler, she had a hard time justifying the "Korean-style" pain she constantly felt. What I don't know is at what point it just became too much.

There are three things I will take away from this tragic day. One is a very real perspective of the suicide rate in Korea which was documented as 26 out of 100,000 people in 2008 and is increasing exponentially. The second is the fact that we're all just people and, no matter your culture, your ethnicity, or your background, we are all connected. No one I know better lived this than Kim Kee Jeong, a beautiful, compassionate soul who accepted and loved every person she met with equanimity. Finally, and most importantly, Kim Kee Jeong will inspire me to continue traveling and meeting new people and to share the enormous love she gave so freely to me and everyone.