On May 16, two days ahead of the 45th anniversary of the May 18 Democratic Uprising, carnations placed by students in a gesture of gratitude and respect lie at the National May 18 Democratic Cemetery in Unjeong-dong, Buk-gu, Gwangju. (Yonhap)
Gwangju, South Korea, May 16 (Korea Bizwire) – The rain came and went over Gwangju’s northern hills, but the students kept walking—518 of them, a symbolic number etched into the nation’s memory.
On this overcast morning, just two days before the 45th anniversary of the May 18 Democratic Uprising, they made their quiet way through the gates of the National May 18 Democratic Cemetery, red carnations cradled carefully in their arms.
They weren’t here for a school trip or a history lesson. They were here to say thank you.
“I brought this flower because I wanted to honor them like I do my parents or teachers,” said Kim Hyo-jung, a second-year student at Gakhwa Middle School, after she placed a potted carnation beside the grave of Kim Ju-yeol, one of the earliest student martyrs of the democracy movement. “I can’t imagine how hard they must have fought. I think they were very brave.”
For these students, the visit wasn’t ceremonial—it was personal. Some hugged the flowerpots tightly to keep them from the drizzle, shielding them from the wind like sacred offerings. As March for the Beloved played softly through the cemetery’s speakers, they bowed their heads, their faces a mix of youthful solemnity and reverence beyond their years.
Each flower found its resting place among the tombstones of 1st and 2nd grave sites—quiet tributes to those who never lived to see the freedoms they fought for. For a few minutes, the cemetery became a classroom without words. The lessons were in the silence.
On May 16, two days ahead of the 45th anniversary of the May 18 Democratic Uprising, more than 540 participants — including members of May 18 organizations and students from Gwangju and South Jeolla — gather at the National May 18 Democratic Cemetery in Unjeong-dong, Buk-gu, Gwangju, holding carnations in tribute to the spirits of the fallen. (Yonhap)
A few yards away, the next generation was also learning, in their own way.
Twenty kindergartners from Inyang Preschool lined up before the headstones, each holding a single chrysanthemum crafted from empty milk cartons—their own tiny acts of remembrance. They stood still, a remarkable feat for five-year-olds, and gently placed the flowers in the grass.
“They’re too young to understand democracy or protest,” said one of the teachers, kneeling beside a child. “But we come every May, and we hope they grow up with the awareness that these freedoms came at a cost. Even giving something as simple as a handmade flower is a way to say thank you.”
On May 16, two days before the 45th anniversary of the May 18 Democratic Uprising, children from Inyang Kindergarten walk away after laying chrysanthemums made from recycled milk cartons at the National May 18 Democratic Cemetery in Unjeong-dong, Buk-gu, Gwangju. (Yonhap)
Among the visitors that day was someone who remembers those costs more intimately than most. Lee Gye-hyeon, 72, stood quietly with his grandson at the graves of his parents—Choi Hwa-jin and Lee Ok-dan—both of whom died in the uprising.
“I live in Seoul now, and I can’t always come back every year,” Lee said, his voice catching. “But this year, I brought my grandson. I want him to know who his great-grandparents were—not just to our family, but to this country.”
For a long while, the two stood in silence. The child held his grandfather’s hand. Around them, the rain lightened to a mist, and the carnations dotted the cemetery like notes of quiet defiance—red against gray stone.
In Gwangju, memory lives not only in monuments but in gestures like these: a child’s drawing, a teenager’s bowed head, a red flower handed over with both hands. The May 18 Uprising may have happened 45 years ago, but its legacy, once written in blood, is now passed down in blooms.
And in that way, the fight for democracy continues—not just through politics or protest, but in remembrance. In gratitude. In rain-soaked carnations held tightly in the arms of children.
M. H. Lee (mhlee@koreabizwire.com)
