When a Drama Echoes My Own Story
Recently, I watched the drama Eun-jung and Sang-yeon. In its final episode, the dialogue struck me deeply, bringing back the memory of my father, who passed away this March. The words between the two characters felt uncannily like the conversations I had—or failed to have—with my father. Watching that scene, I couldn’t hold back my tears.
My father battled illness for five years. I believed I was with him throughout that time, yet now I realize much of it was a journey he endured alone. I was there, but I couldn’t fully grasp his inner world. Facing the weight of knowing the time to leave was near—I thought I understood, but I didn’t. What remains now is regret.
Dialogue That Resonated
Eun-jung: You said you wouldn’t go. To Switzerland…
Sang-yeon: You don’t have to go.
Eun-jung: So you’re saying you will.
Sang-yeon: Hmm… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. But… I’m in so much pain…
Eun-jung: But you still have time. You can talk, walk, breathe…
Sang-yeon: That’s why I want to go while I still can. While I’m still myself… You said you’d stay with me till the end. I know you would. But I can’t ask that of you… When my mother died, I saw the very end of suffering. Watching it, being powerless… I know what that is.
Eun-jung: Still, stay…
Sang-yeon: No… Eun-jung, I’m dying. Accepting that was hard enough for me… I want to live too. If I had even a 1% chance, I would’ve done anything. But I don’t…
Eun-jung: Sang-yeon…
Sang-yeon: Hope can strangle a person. Wanting to die without pain, while still knowing who I am—is that such a sin, such a selfish wish? At the very least, don’t I have the right to refuse suffering?
Hearing this, I immediately thought of my father’s final days. Back then, I believed simply being by his side was enough. But perhaps he, too, was making a profound decision, one I couldn’t fully understand. In his last moments, he may have been fighting to preserve his dignity, even as pain consumed him. That was a truth I never completely grasped.
This image was inspired by the two protagonists of the drama “Eun-jung and Sang-yeon.” Where light meets shadow, their emotions intertwine — the sorrow of the one who remains, and the calm acceptance of the one who departs. The light becomes both the boundary that separates them and the thread that gently binds them together in empathy.
The Desire to Stay Together
Eun-jung: (monologue) I can’t let you go alone.
Eun-jung: The ticket has to be round-trip—for both of us.
Sang-yeon: If we really leave together, let’s make it a real trip… smiling. We’ve never traveled, just the two of us.
Eun-jung: But don’t forget—what I want most is to come back with you. You know what a trip is, right? You leave, but you return.
The dying want to remain themselves until the very end. Those who stay behind want to be with them till the last breath. These two desires, when they meet, can sometimes bring more pain than comfort. The dialogue between Eun-jung and Sang-yeon was, for me, an echo of words I shared—or failed to share—with my father.
The Regret of the One Left Behind
Eun-jung: I didn’t know it would be this hard… this frightening. Only after saying I’d go did I realize what it really means to go there.
(In the church, Eun-jung’s monologue)
Eun-jung: Did they find their answers?
Eun-jung: I still had unfinished preparations left. Accepting that I might return alone… walking that path by myself.
I know there are no answers. Still, I will walk through your time with you.
Watching this scene, I remembered myself sitting in the hospital room. I was by my father’s side, yet he was truly fighting alone. Only after he was gone did I feel the emptiness and regret. We all know, in theory, that one day we must part with those we love. But when the moment actually arrives, we are never prepared.
A Message for You
This is why I want to share one thing with you.
If someone you love stands before the door of death, promise yourself every day: “I will not live with regret.”
Each moment will be painful and exhausting. Yet not being fully present in that time leads to even deeper regret afterward. Regret is the heaviest pain—born of our clumsy, immature words and actions when love mattered most.
I know I am not the only one. Someone else has surely walked this same path. No experience of love and loss is ever truly solitary. That is why we call it empathy—because our stories connect us.
