She has passed away.

She passed away in an unexpected accident last weekend.
And today is the day of her funeral procession.
Last Sunday, at her memorial service, not a single tear fell from my eyes.
Even though I felt infinite sorrow seeing her mother, who was trying so hard to hold it together, not a single tear would come.
I met several of our classmates. I even felt guilty for the joy of catching up on each other's lives after so long.
My throat felt tight, so I returned home after numbing the pain with nothing but alcohol.
On Monday morning, in my consultation room, messages from classmates began to flow in via KakaoTalk.
Memories of those days, which I had long forgotten, began to resurface.
At 11:10 AM, I mentally collapsed completely, stopped all my consultations, and just cried for a long time.
I first met her 23 years ago, in the winter, during the orientation in Gangwon-do when I was full of pride after passing the medical school entrance exam.
In the freshman group assignments that were split into dozens, she and I were in the same group, and that 2-night, 3-day orientation was the beginning of everything for me.
At twenty, I didn't really know what it meant to be "pretty."
A tanned, round face and long, slender eyes. Without realizing it, my eyes kept drifting toward her.
She looked so cute at night when she put on her glasses and her eyes looked smaller.
Her face was round, her glasses were round—she was just cute.
Whether it was because I was so happy to finally be a medical student, or because she was truly beautiful, I still don't know.
All I know is that she is the only one who remains in my memory from that first encounter.
At the time, I had a girlfriend I had been seeing since high school.
That was why I closed my eyes to her, even though my eyes were drawn to her even more.
During those days, we were relatively free from academic burdens, and amidst the many freshman year events,
even though I kept looking her way, I always closed my eyes to her. Even now, I don't quite know what those feelings were.
She was popular. And for most of the time I felt it, she had a boyfriend.
During my second year of pre-med, which I consider the last golden age of being a medical student,
I dated many people and played hard, just like any other friend. I didn't stay glued to school; I just played. I played constantly.
During that one year, I have no memories of school or of her. I just played, and time passed.
In the first semester of our first year of medical school, we opened the door to medical life with Anatomy and Physiology.
Life began where we sat in lectures from morning to night, just like in high school, without moving classrooms,
and after finishing practicals, most of my afternoons had to be spent in the medical library.
We had a drawing for library seats. For a long time, we had to sit together at desks in the medical library without partitions, studying until late at night.
It felt like a drawing filled with a certain tension and prayers about who I would end up studying with.
The seat next to mine at the same desk was hers. I didn't have any special feelings, but I was glad to see her.
I don't know if I was glad because she was someone I remembered from the very first moment, or if I was glad because I liked her, but I was glad.
We sat next to each other for many days, studying until late at night.
From some point on, without realizing it, I started going to the library every day, even though I used to hate it.
If she was there, the hardship of studying was bearable, and if she wasn't there, I would look at my books wondering when she would arrive.
I think it started then. I realized that even on days she didn't come to the library until late, I was waiting for her.
When she went out to get some fresh air while I was studying, I would follow her, even if just to wash my hands.
When I went down to the snack bar to buy something, I always asked if she needed anything.
Whether I wanted to buy her something or just wanted to say those words, I still don't know.
She was quite wealthy.
Coming from the countryside, I was always clumsy when dealing with her. She seemed like someone different from me.
It felt like how the boy looked at the girl in Hwang Sun-won's "Rain Shower."
Even though my younger self tried to act tough on the outside, my heart was infinitely cautious.
Months passed, and I wanted to convey my feelings which had grown so large, but I lacked confidence.
The time we spent together and the stories we shared increased, but I simply couldn't find the courage to suggest a relationship.
I started sending her flowers. Anonymously, of course.
I thought the gifts that would make her happy were things I couldn't give her, so I did my best to pick flowers I thought she would like.
I became very close with the owner of the flower shop in front of the school.
"Your girlfriend must be happy, huh?"
"She's not my girlfriend."
I heard the question "Is she still not your girlfriend?" every single time.
Some days it was because exams were over, some days because something good happened, and some days because the weather was nice;
that's how flower deliveries frequently arrived at the medical school classrooms.
My friends and her friends must have already known it was my doing.
Then one day, my friends approached me saying something big had happened.
They said she was likely to get a boyfriend soon. They said someone had appeared who was actively coming to the school to see her.
They said he went to a nearby school, the school's reputation was better than ours, and above all, he was wealthy.
I began to look into him.
It took only 10 minutes to realize that I had nothing on him.
He seemed better than me in every way, and all I had were the time spent sitting next to her and long-term anonymous flower gifts.
It was already too late to confess.
I had to disappear from her life very gently. But I still wanted to confess.
I prepared one last flower gift.
I prepared it to be the most beautiful and lush, and I tucked a movie ticket inside.
Anonymously, as always.
I planned to tell her my true feelings if she showed up, and if not, I planned to disappear quietly.
That day came, and her friend, who seemed to know everything even though it was anonymous, asked me:
'Where are you going today?'
'Just out,'
I replied, and I went to the theater alone. I went to the theater with the encouragement of my friends.
As I expected, I did not meet her,
and for two hours, I watched that movie while shedding tears that were refreshing and clear, yet deeply sad.
Even as it ended, I think I kept praying that she might appear even at the very last moment.
And so, my first and last unrequited love in medical school came to an end.
A month or two later, I heard news that she had broken up with him, but I had already exhausted all my courage and energy.
Coincidentally, during that time spent in the library in our first year of medical school, I received my best grades in medical school,
and after finishing my second year, during which I lost all my mental energy, I took a leave of absence.
I don't remember if I wanted to forget her.
But I certainly remember that I didn't have the courage to attend school with her.
Just to pull myself together after being so exhausted, I spent a year working as an actor in a small theater troupe and various places,
and before returning to school, I took out a student loan and traveled through Europe for three months with just one backpack.
Years passed, and because my military service issues got complicated, my residency plan also got derailed, so I opened my own practice as a general practitioner performing cosmetic procedures.
And then I heard that she was a resident at a nearby university hospital.
For a moment, I thought perhaps God was helping me.
I don't know if it was because time had healed my heart or if it was a false healing caused by the pride of being a practitioner in my youth, but I thought of her and missed her again.
Fortunately, I still had her phone number.
I wanted to contact her so badly that I think I spent days agonizing over it, typing and deleting messages on KakaoTalk dozens of times.
Then, I heard news of her upcoming marriage.
All my courage vanished. The thing I had hoped might not happen, ended up happening again. All the strength left my body.
However, a few months later, that marriage was canceled, and I didn't want to make the mistake of retreating out of exhaustion like I did years ago.
After hearing the news, I contacted her via KakaoTalk for the first time since graduation.
It was then that I realized how grateful I was that I could send a text while looking at her photo with the number I had.
For 2 to 3 weeks, I reached out first once every 2 to 3 days.
'It's raining.' 'Did you eat lunch?' 'What's serving at that hospital's cafeteria?'
'A restaurant like this opened up in my neighborhood.' I beat around the bush with trivial, random topics.
I wanted to see her, but our schedules didn't align.
Looking back, it seems normal that a newly opened practitioner and a resident in a vital specialty would find it hard to coordinate time.
While we were in contact, I naturally found myself thinking a lot.
The more our appointments were postponed, the more thoughts flooded in.
I felt that to approach her, who would have her own pains in her early 30s,
I had to approach her prepared to give her everything forever.
And so, I ultimately failed to make a date with her.
I talked endlessly about this and that happening, but I never actually met her.
In my youth, my courage crumbled because I felt inadequate,
and back then, my courage crumbled from the fear of whether I could solve all her pains.
Compared to the wonderful romance and life I imagined for her, I was just a young guy who had nothing to offer but his physical self.
And so, I retreated from her forever.
The tears that fell when I first retreated did not flow this time.
I suppose it's because I have become an adult now.
Years passed, and I heard she had two wonderful marriages and one breakup in between,
and I comforted myself that it was wise to have retreated from someone who was meant to live a different life than mine, just as I had thought in my youth.
And I lived my own life diligently and happily.
When I turned forty, an alumni association was formed.
She was there. It was a life that suited the wonderful her.
I was in the middle of surviving in the same neighborhood for 10 years.
Every day was intense, but I had more leisure than in those days.
A friend I lived with during college contacted me.
'I'm going, you should come too. He's coming as well.'
I don't know if I was curious about her or if I missed those days, but I wanted to go.
After finishing my consultations, I arrived late.
Since it was the first alumni gathering, everyone introduced themselves in the order they arrived because it had been so long.
As I stood up from my seat, I saw her across from me.
I had no thoughts, but my breath caught and my legs trembled.
I introduced myself in a language I couldn't even remember what I was saying and sat back down.
I was the public relations officer for the student council.
Since my student days, I was confident in speaking in public interviews,
and I thought I was a good speaker anywhere, whether on broadcast TV or YouTube, without getting nervous; but I just sat down heavily after saying that.
That day, I couldn't say a single word to her.
I couldn't even approach her table. I felt like I would suffocate if I went near her.
A friend I lived with approached her enthusiastically, asking about her life and chatting happily on my behalf.
With my mind paralyzed, the gathering ended, and I said to my friend,
"Even though we've aged this much, she is still beautiful."
And so, several more years passed.
This alumni gathering was small in scale.
I hadn't been able to attend because my current life had been so busy, but since it was being held near my house, I decided to go this time.
Upon hearing she would be attending, I hurried my steps, thinking I could finally meet her comfortably.
Since more time had passed, I thought we could talk about raising children and enjoy talking about our student days.
But this time, I did not meet her.
That friend, who had many children, had already gone home early.
It was a shame, but it was okay. I thought I could just meet her next time and smile.
I thought that as we age together, time will surely become more abundant.
But now, I can no longer see her in this world.
I collapsed so deeply that I couldn't even write a phrase to pray for her soul.
And last Sunday, I went to say my final goodbye in front of her photograph.
Even after turning forty, I still don't quite know what love is, and I am always contemplating it.
But I still hold vividly the feelings of liking her and the heartache of those clumsy days of youth.
If there is another world after our lives end, I truly want to meet you just once.
I sincerely hope your life in this one was truly happy, and I won't be able to forget you until my life ends.
I will miss you and long for you.
Let's definitely meet again. Goodbye.