Through the thick glass of St. Peter’s Basilica, I once gazed upon Michelangelo’s Pietà. The sculpture, depicting the Virgin Mary cradling the lifeless body of Christ after His descent from the cross, was utterly breathtaking. The artist’s meticulous attention to detail, from the muscular anatomy to the folds of the fabric, conveyed a profound sense of divine omnipotence—making even the grief of a mother losing her son seem like an acceptance of fate. Yet, there was an emptiness in the Virgin Mary’s expression, as if it concealed a void too vast to comprehend.
After Typhoon Hinnamnor devastated southern Korea, the story of a mother and son’s final moments together deeply moved the nation. Fourteen-year-old Kim, affectionately nicknamed “Mom’s little shadow,” shared an extraordinary bond with his mother. That day, he insisted on accompanying her to the flooded basement parking lot to retrieve their car, worried about her going alone. When the waters rose swiftly, the mother urged her son to escape first. As Kim swam toward the exit, he left behind these parting words: “Thank you for raising me for this long time, mom.” She clung to a pipe for 14 harrowing hours and was ultimately rescued. Kim, however, was found lifeless later that night. His family, unable to find the words, said nothing when the mother asked about her son’s fate.
A few years ago, my father attended the funeral of a friend who had lost a child in a traffic accident. He returned home within hours, unable to bear the grief-stricken face of his friend, who could not even weep aloud. My father handed over his condolences and quietly left. Later, he said to me, “Sweetheart, always be careful crossing the street, for me, please.” as he wiped away tears. He never spoke of that day again. I could only imagine that no words could suffice in the presence of a parent’s unimaginable sorrow.
Even the awe-inspiring Pietà feels hollow when measured against the grief of parents who have lost their child. Their cries are often compared to the wails of an animal—raw, guttural, and primal. In some cases, parents cannot even bear the burden of hosting their child’s funeral, leaving others to stand in their place. Who could dare to judge such parents as weak or incapable? They are human, not divine. Only now do I think I understand the void in the Virgin Mary’s expression—a reflection of grief so profound, it transcends earthly comprehension.
Eunseo Hong, Published on 8th November, 2022