Subscribe to the Catholic Herald podcast on iTunes, Stitcher or Google Play Music.
Myung Ki Min was 8 years old when he escaped
from North Korea. His parents decided to flee in 1948 after the communist
government seized their land. In the middle of the night, his parents woke him
and his siblings. Carrying a small bag, he walked with them through the night to
and across the 38th parallel — the line separating North and South Korea.
Though Min and thousands of others made
it to the south, they often left family behind. Communication between Koreans
in the north and south is nearly impossible to this day, and many are left
wondering the fate of their loved ones.
Min’s father died in 2006 with one final
wish — that his children visit his brother in North Korea. But when they were
able to track down their uncle’s whereabouts, they learned he had been killed
by an American bomber decades earlier. Min believes all the family he knew in
the north has passed away.
But many others cling to the hope that
they can see their long-lost relatives in the north before they die. In recent years,
several reunions, sanctioned by both Koreas, have let mothers, fathers, children
and siblings spend a few days with each other in a Mount Kumgang resort. But as
time passes, the list dwindles as Koreans die while waiting.
Min serves as the chairman of Korean
Assembly for Reunion of Ten-million Separated Families, Washington branch. He
encourages Koreans in the Washington area to sign up for the lottery that
connects relatives in the north and south. The odds of being chosen are 500 to
1, said Min, who added that so far, none in the DC metro area have been
selected.
But with ongoing talks between South
Korean President Moon Jae-in and North Korean Leader Kim Jong Un, he thinks
there’s a possibility of more frequent meetings between separated families. He
only hopes that happens soon.
“There’s agony for those who are aging,
mostly in their 80s and 90s. Their lifelong wish is to meet with their family
before they pass away,” said Min, a parishioner of St. Paul Chung Church in Fairfax.
“I’m working day and night on this issue, to lower the suffering of the people
who have suffered so long.”
The separation
In 1946, Kyungjoo Lee was a senior in
high school. It would be four more years until the start of the Korean War, but
already there was great tension between those who believed in communism and
those who favored democracy. During a student demonstration against communism,
Lee witnessed North Korean police firing on the crowd. “It was a lawless
situation,” he said.
Without telling his family, Lee fled to
the 38th parallel and waited until it was dark. He then threw a stone, testing
whether the noise would rouse the Soviet Union troops who were guarding the
border. When it didn’t, he slipped across.
Though he knew no one in the south, Lee
found ways to support himself and enrolled in Korea University in Seoul. When
he was a junior, he volunteered to fight in the Korean War. Just as his unit
was about to engage the Chinese troops who were supporting the north, he was
asked to enroll in officer school.
After completing the training, he became
a platoon leader and was often sent to the frontlines. During one conflict, a
bomb exploded and shrapnel hit him all over his body. Scars from the attack are
still visible on the 90 year old’s arms. Because of his injury, he was
discharged, the same year he was commissioned — 1951.

Kyungjoo Lee holds a picture of himself from when he
served a soldier during the Korean War.
ZOEY MARAIST | CATHOLIC HERALD
While recovering in the hospital, he
learned his mother and sisters-in-law had escaped from the north by boat. They were
living with other refugees in the south on Geoje Island. Their journey is known
as the Christmas Miracle as the American ship that was supposed to transport
troops and equipment to South Korea instead carried thousands of North Koreans,
including President Moon’s parents, to safety on Christmas Day.
As Lee searched for his mother, he hid
his injured arm so as not to alarm her. He found her living in a storage
building where fish had been kept. On the floor there was nothing but straw,
trampled smooth by many feet. “Through the roof I could see the stars,” he
said.
Lee is the youngest of six siblings. All
of the others were trapped in the north. At 90 years old, he believes he is
probably the only one living. But even if he knew they were alive, he wouldn’t
try to visit. “It could be such a happy moment but that’s only momentarily,” he
said.” I couldn't bear that suffering.”
Journey to the north
Sueng Ki Kahng had thought his older
brother was dead but he received a request to meet with him through the Red
Cross, the intermediary for Korean family reunifications. The whole family was
shocked by the news that he was still alive. “It was beyond words,” said Kahng.
“It’s a feeling that the deceased person has come alive.”
Kahng was in fifth grade when his older
brother, a high school senior, defected with two other friends to the north. As
with many other Koreans, Kahng’s family was very poor. “That was right after
the Japanese occupation for 36 years. (Those who were) angry at the Japanese or
at the inability of the Korean government (to lead) were leaning toward
communism,” said Tschangho John Kim, a fellow parishioner of St. Paul Chung who
served as translator. “Communist propaganda sounds good because it says, ‘We are
for you, we are for everybody, we are for the poor, we are for the neglected.’
”
In 2002, with just five days prep time,
Kahng packed his bags and went to visit his brother along with hundreds of other
South Koreans seeking family members. From south to north they traveled by cruise
ship, which also served as their hotel.
As they took the 30-minute bus ride to
the meeting place, Kahng saw propaganda plastered on every building, and on the
face of every mountain. The North Korean soldiers he saw were skinny and small.
He learned that before saying the leader’s name, North Koreans always preceed
it with “Greatest” or “Greatest Comrade.”
Though he and his brother had two hours
in private, the meals were monitored by northern agents, said Kahng. His
brother had a high position in the military, which allowed him to provide for
his six children. However, they still are without food for four or five days every
month, said Kahng. His brother’s son, who is also in the military, uses his influence
to provide for his father as much as he can, Kahng’s brother told him.
Though the brothers weren’t able to talk
about ideology, Kahng said his brother seems “brainwashed.”
A final resting place
Hee Cho’s husband, Jeung Hyun Cho, escaped
from North Korea with his father when he was 9 years old. He never saw his
mother or his brother again. But he always dreamed of returning to the north to
see what family he was left.
In 2002, Hee and Jeung Hyun took an
expensive and clandestine route into North Korea to meet with his two sisters
and their children. Through their private connection, they had been able to
exchange letters and photos with his family, said Hee, a parishioner of St.
Paul Chung.
“It’s a big decision to go to the north,
but I feel that I am fortunate to be able to go before I die,” Jeung Hyun wrote
in his journal.

Hee Cho, a parishioner of St. Paul Chung Church in
Fairfax, looks through her husband’s journal and pictures of trip to visit his
family in North Korea.
ZOEY MARAIST | CATHOLIC HERALD
Hee, Jeung Hyun, and his family met in a
hotel in Pyongyang. When they saw each other, they hugged and wept. Though they
never visited his sisters’ homes, Hee feels they are living with some
difficulties, though better off than many North Koreans. Two-thirds of the
luggage Hee and her husband brought were filled with medicine as gifts for the
family.
While there, the couple toured famous
North Korean sites. They also went to church. Though there are no priests
living in the country, Catholics are able to hold prayer services. Jeung Hyun wrote,
“I opened the door and I was so surprised to see the 150 seats were filled. About
10 choir members were singing hymns so loudly that it struck my emotion and
devotion. I prayed to God to give us health and for the unification of Korea.”
Several years after the trip, Jeung Hyun
died of skin cancer. Hee said that her husband never understood why people cry
out for their mother as they die. But as he was suffering, he found that
calling for his mom in English and Korean relieved his pain.
Hee had her husband’s remains cremated,
and prayed she would be able to lay him to rest next to his mother in North
Korea. On her behalf, Min reached out to the unification ministry and to the
Red Cross, but both replied that it couldn’t be done.
Still, the Korean-Americans hope future inter-Korean
summits will lead to more reunifications. The fate of so many mothers and sons
relies on the negotiations between both sides of the 38th parallel.