I brush my fingers along the metal bar. It says “Press here to Enter,” but still I wait and ponder. I can feel his presence in my fingertips, it does not bring a feeling of sadness or fear. Nor will I pen some overly used quip about a lost lover. Instead I feel a vibration from the door that comes from the steady crooning of a very real voice. A voice that rages, that offers sweet rewards, that consoles after death, and one that offers an opportunity for escape. How permanent that escape feels as my hands finally press the entrance open to the crypt.
The building is warm and inviting. Windows have been placed on the East side and the sun seems placed to greet the dead each day. I turn towards the coffin wall and my eyes attempt to widen and engulf the magnitude of death before me. My Korean eyes strain to open further… but to no avail. I see a few of my ancestors in the corner. Their misty forms seem to shake as they laugh hysterically at my attempts. At least they managed to keep their humor in death, I think to myself as I roll my eyes.
I walk towards a name, five from the top and three over. I place my hand upon the placard, it gleams bright. Brand new, I can still see the glue where the price tag was stuck. I rub at it furiously, its presence suddenly offends me. I step away once satisfied that all is as it should be… as it must be. There are no flowers here, only stone and metal. This actually makes me happy. There is nothing here that will die again.
He need not return once more.