Maman died today. Or yesterday maybe. I don't know.

I got a telegram from home: “Mother deceased. Funeral tomorrow. Faithfully yours.”

That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe it was yesterday.

[...]

When one of my best friends from my bestest friend group chat said his mother was dead, he just stood there motionless. I, too, fell ill.

Every time I see something like this, I just wish I could stop time until every single person in the world could go right there, right now, and show their condolences — and not leave until the matter is properly settled, compensation is issued, and they just give like a big paid leave from work for anyone involved.

Yet the world doesn’t stop; it doesn’t even pay mind to it. Simple as “My mom died today. I’m sorry I couldn’t make up for all our fighting. I couldn’t not love you, for you are my mother.”

These words rang silently, and few even found space in their hurried afternoon to pay mind to them. For many, the song of sadness remains unsung.

[...]

I was hurrying home in a senseless rush. I was worried it might rain; I had college to attend and had forgotten to buy the damned milk carton that haunted me for the bigger part of the week.

Alienated in routine, my steps clapped loudly against the uneven, cold stone beneath my feet. That, I froze. Even though i didn't really froze, since i didn't have that much time to spare;

In a shadowy corner in broad daylight, I saw this pitiful figure. A man, prostrated on the ground, paper in hand, booze in the other, eyes covered by dirty forearms. Sobbing. A crying mess on the street floor.

I had nothing to do with it, and I didn’t do anything about it, of course. This man lives in another world entirely. How could a stranger in insufferable desperation threaten my peacefully rushed daily routine?

I walked home, for that I was required to. Yet, my day going forward was absolutely ruined.

I don’t know this man, nor what he was crying for. But I took his pain, just because no one else would.

And for that day, I refrained from enjoying the mindless struggle of daily life; I refrained from indulging in numb pleasure. And, of course, I forgot the milk.

I had to make a whole group project alone, then someone grabbed me and pulled me into an endless conversation about mind-numbing stuff. I was met with the rain on my way back home, so I stood in front of the door to my house, drenched, and had to stuff my clothes into a plastic bag before entering. The power was out, of course, so I had to take a cold bath.

Perhaps, had it been me on that cold stone floor, I wouldn’t feel so guilty about having this good of a life.

Before I went to bed, I looked outside and saw the moon. I gave it a faint smile. It was pretty.