Forgotten

Six or eight years ago, when I was teaching a couple of classes at a local university, I met a young exchange student from South Korea named, “Yoko.” 

As a result of my having taught, and gotten to know Yoko, I spent some “off duty” time mentoring her, (and she, subsequently, enrolled in an intern program which I developed, and provided to young adults preparing for life and ministry). This lovely young lady also spent time in our home, and I edited several of the papers which she completed for other courses in which she was enrolled.

In the end, my wife and I attended Yoko’s graduation exercise, and shortly thereafter she made the journey back to her home country. Even after her return to South Korea, Yoko and I exchanged messages related to her elementary school teaching position, a graduate program in which she was enrolled, her family and a particular love interest.

And then,

… nothing

For you see, a year or more ago all communication stopped. Well, to be fair all two-way communication came to a screeching halt. I continued to send Yoko messages for a while; though there was never any response.

Oh, I still “keep up with” her. That is to say, I am still able to view her social media page. Yoko was recently married to a fine, young naval officer, finished her Master’s in Education, and to my knowledge is still teaching.

I have saved some of Yoko’s old emails in which she referred to me as her favorite professor; (though I think she might have found herself in the minority of students who thought of me this way). And I still enjoy looking at some of those undergrad photos of this precious young lady. In one she is dressed in a traditional robe, and surrounded by the hardware of a traditional Korean tea ceremony.

Last night Yoko visited me in a dream. The first dream I ever experienced which included my former student, intern and friend.

In the midst of this nether world, Yoko and I were seated at a table, and I sat directly across from her.

Only a few words were exchanged, and I was responsible for them all.

“Yoko, where have you been?”

(and)

“I have missed you, my friend.”

Yoko just sat there looking at me, and not so much as a word escaped her lips.

And while I have entitled this particular blog, “Forgotten” I have no illusion that I am not remembered. I think both Yoko and I valued, and still cherish the little season in which we knew one another, and enjoyed one another’s friendship and comradery.

But with all such mysteries with which we are confronted, I simply cannot account for her silence.


By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary," Vol. 37. Copyright pending

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