The world moves on with quiet indifference, even when personal loss brings life to a halt. In that flow, what does it mean to live as just one among countless others?
The scenery outside the commuter train window looked no different from usual.
Although I am on bereavement leave, I came in today because a colleague was off and I felt I should at least help for half a day.
A hospital struggles when a pathologist does not work.
Since I left home a little later than usual, there seemed to be more students. People walked across the platform as always, waiting for the next train.
The view before and after my brother’s passing has changed very little.
Of course, that is only the broad landscape—nothing is ever exactly the same.
The world moves quickly, and the people within it are swept along, each facing changes in their own lives.
If we isolate each individual’s story, the shifts are immense. Yet from the perspective of society—or humanity as a whole—the change seems slow and almost gentle.
I am only one member of that humanity, just one among the many.
In that sense, I am no different from a single bee or ant in a vast colony.
And yet, if you focus on just one ant, that ant unmistakably carries its own singular life.
I, too, am one such ant, and even an ant has its own role.
What exactly my role is may not be something I can clearly define.
But living the present moment with honesty—that, at least, is something I can do.
