On April 13, 1597, Yi Sun-sin prepares to go out and meet the boat carrying his mother at Asan.
Just as he finishes preparing, his servant Sunhwa comes running from the boat with news. His mother has died.
A Boat Paused at Anheungnyang
His mother, eighty-three, had been on her way from Yeosu to Asan. As the boat paused briefly at Anheungnyang, she died aboard it.
Yi Sun-sin rushes at once to the shore at Haeam. But by the time he arrives, the boat has already come in.
Even the Sun in the Sky Looked Dark
He leaves a short account of that moment in his diary.
I ran out, beating my chest and stamping my feet in grief, until even the sun in the sky looked pitch dark. I rushed straight to the shore at Haeam, and the boat had already arrived. (April 13, 1597)
He cannot write down the full grief that tears at his chest. He only notes that he will write more later, in brief.
Only the Rite of Mourning Dress
A few days later, his entry for April 19 reads like this.
Is there anyone else in this world who has suffered what I have suffered. I would be better off dead.
As a disgraced soldier, he cannot hold mourning for long. He completes only the minimal rite, donning mourning dress, and must set out again.
Today, Between Grief and Duty
Suppressing his grief, he turns south toward Chogye again. His mother’s funeral rites still not properly held.
There was a man who could not stop walking even before his greatest grief. This chapter carries that place over, unchanged.