Father's girlfriend

“I have somewhere to go. You probably have people to meet too, right?”

After two years, I met my father for lunch. After eating, he quickly got up and said,

“Where are you going, Dad?”

“You take care of your own business. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at Namsan.”

My father hurried off to somewhere. At almost 90 years old, what could he be so busy with? That was how my first meeting with my father in Seoul ended.

After my mother passed away, my father never remarried but kept himself busy with girlfriends. Every time I went to Seoul, I would have meals with his girlfriends and travel with them, staying close.

The first woman I met had been in a long-term relationship with my father.
“I just hope he stays healthy until he’s 80,” she often said.
One snowy day when my father was 78, he injured his leg while hiking up Namsan. The woman, thinking my father would pass away while lying in bed, left without any hesitation.

However, my father, who had been hiking up Namsan every day for exercise since he was young, recovered completely after a few months and was able to go back to the mountain. When she saw him walking around fine, the woman came back several times, saying she wanted to return. But by then, my father had a new girlfriend. And he didn’t want to introduce her.
“Dad, why do you have so many secrets? Why won’t you introduce me to this one? What’s going on?”
“You don’t need to know. If you meet her, after I die, will you take responsibility for her life? Just live your own life.”

My father never remarried, not wanting to cause conflict between his new wife and children after he passed. He sent all of us to the U.S. and lived alone, climbing Namsan every morning to exercise. He didn’t want to burden us with the trouble of visiting his grave, so he asked that when he passed, his ashes be spread on the way to Namsan. He didn’t want to make life difficult for us.

He came to my wedding once, but never visited again.
“If I go there, I’d be fine for a few days, but in the busy life in America, what good would it do for an old man to go and burden his children? It’s enough for me if you live well. There’s an old Japanese saying: 'It’s nice to meet your grandchildren, but it’s even better when you part ways.'”
He firmly declined any further visits. And he never burdened us financially. Instead, he would help us, saying, "It’s my joy that I can still give something."

Perhaps his belief that he should live independently, without relying on his children, has kept him healthy and prosperous until today. When my father, living far away, says he’s lonely or unwell, how can we, living in another country, live without feeling guilty?

There’s an old saying that if a person starts doing something unusual, it will have consequences. Until now, he would proudly introduce every woman he met, but now, it’s really strange. Could it be that he’s embarrassed to introduce a woman much younger than me?