Derailed

I decided I should say something about today's train accident. (Click on the title of this post for the story.) I wasn't in it, thankfully, though I do take that train sometimes. The accident happened very near where I live. I am hoping that no one I know was involved. So far I haven't heard anything to that effect, but I can't seem to get my mind around it. I want to do something to help, but I feel helpless. In the meantime everyone seems to be going on with life, as they should I suppose, in the normal fashion. That is to say that they keep smiling and laughing and complaining about their jobs and watching game shows and going shopping. They are aware of what happened and they aren't happy about it, but they don't seem any different, really. I think that is probably the normal and healthy response, but it is still hard for me to accept it, I guess. I feel like I need some time to just think about the whole thing. It is like the feeling of mourning for a loved one, actually. When someone near you dies you don't feel right about the trivial things in your life, because something so profound has just happened, something so painful and mysterious and personal. In time we can laugh again, but not without a period where to do so feels awkward. This may be one of those times when my friends would tell me, and perhaps some of you will, "Hack, you think too much." But it is very easy for me to identify with the victims of this particular tragedy because I could have easily been one.

I think of the family of the young man who was driving the train. And the college students on their way to classes. And the children. And the businessmen and women who work 80-hour weeks and have mastered the art of catching a nap on the train to the office. And the elderly people who, thanks to the great transportation system in Japan, have the freedom to move about with relative ease.

At the time of this writing, 57 people are dead, over 400 injured. But the other trains keep running and people still sit in the front cars. Soon it will be for most like it never happened. But for many of those who were directly affected, life will never be the same. If nothing else may it be a reminder to us all that we are indeed very mortal. Life is precious and fragile. May we take that knowledge and live and love well. May the pain and death motivate us to goodness, that it may be said that this tragedy wasn't meaningless. May we honor those who suffered by allowing our lives to be affected by their deaths. None of them were expecting to meet the end when they woke up this morning. Neither are we when we go about our own daily routines. But a time is coming for each of us, maybe soon, maybe not. May we be ready when it does.

Not only do I appreciate the reminder of my own mortality, but I want to keep remembering that the people I interact with won't always be here either, and thus I should treat them each with kindness, even if I may not feel they deserve it. If someone dies, it is too late to apologize, too late to make that phone call or write that thank you note, too late to tell her you love her or give him some help with his homework.

Why is it so hard to live lives that reflect our knowledge that our time is limited and unknown? Do we simply prefer not to think about it because it is unpleasant? The very existence of death should move us to celebrate and cherish life, and each other. But whenever we refuse to reflect on that truth, we miss an opportunity to become a little bit better, a little bit deeper, a little bit wiser, a little more compassionate and forgiving and understanding, a little more human.