At the threshold of twilight

At the threshold of twilight

 

By Lee Hyon-soo

 

Tang dynasty poet Du Fu’s poem “Qujiang” contains a famous line: “It has been rare for men to reach 70 years of age.” This is why turning 70 is often called “goheui” (rare longevity). But these days, the meaning of this phrase has faded. Thanks to advances in medicine and better health management, people live longer. I myself have lived more than 10 years past 70, so I have no more to wish for.

 

From the moment a person realizes he will one day die, he begins to struggle with inner turmoil. If we are fated to die and disappear anyway, what meaning does life hold? Such thoughts can lead to a sense of futility. But I consider myself incredibly lucky to have been born against all odds. And because I have only one life to live, it feels all the more precious.

 

The path of my early life was strewn with adversities and tumults. Not only was I born in a poverty-stricken country, but I also bore the brunt of a succession of social upheavals caused by the 1950-1953 Korean War, a nationwide student uprising and a military coup. Indeed, I spent my formative years in very needy and tumultuous circumstances. Nevertheless, I was fortunate enough to grow into adulthood unscathed.

 

After graduating from college, I became financially independent by working for an American bank that had entered the Korean market. I married a woman I loved, built a family, and enjoyed the joy of raising two children. At a relatively young age I immigrated to Canada where I was able to work as a full-pledged international banker. In my leisure time I read and prolifically wrote articles for newspapers  essays on social media as a freelance writer. I also traveled the world. I feel that I have lived as full a life as possible.

 

What traces remain of my time in this world? My son and daughter, and my grandchildren. Since the distant beginnings of humankind, life has continued generation after generation, and I have played my part in that chain of life. Though I have not achieved any great deeds that will immortalize my name in history, new lives came into the world because of me. How, then, can my life be called meaningless?

 

There’s something else I leave behind; I have compiled my writings into books and published them in Korea and the United States. If, after I am gone, people continue to buy or borrow my books from libraries and read them, I could ask for no greater reward.

 

There’s a saying that age is nothing but a number, but I take that as mere rhetoric. There is no way to stop the physical aging that comes with getting older. Now that I have entered the twilight of life, I am aware that with each passing day I move closer to the end.

 

When the time comes, I will go with no regrets but with the comforting thought that it was an amazing stroke of luck that I was given the chance to live on planet Earth.

 

 

The writer (tomhslee43@gmail.com) is a retired international banker and the author of “Tales of A Modern-day Nomad” which is a collection of essays on travels and a variety of topics.

 

(Published in the July 23, 2025 issue of The Korea Times).