Cherish the People Beside You – The Number of Times You Meet Is Always Decreasing

(An emotional breakdown over a dream, rooted in real-life echoes)

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I just woke from an unbearably vivid dream—a relative passed away. He left without suffering, at seventy, an age that could be called a long life.

On the day he left, I went about my routine as usual, feeling nothing out of the ordinary. After washing up, I went to the hospital to complete the procedures to confirm his death.

But as I went through the paperwork, line by line, I first noticed his age—seventy. A natural death, one could say he “lived a full life.” I caught myself reflecting on how unknowingly so much time had slipped by, and how I’d hardly ever paid attention to his age while he was alive. Back then, it was all just ordinary.

Then, as I continued verifying the details, memories of him began surfacing. A few tears fell at first, and I tried to hold myself together enough to keep filling out the form. But soon, I couldn’t hold back anymore—tears poured down uncontrollably. I had to put down the pen, step aside, and cover my face as I wept.

I don’t mean to spread sorrow. It’s just that my heart felt like a heavy stone was pressing on it. I needed to release all that pent-up emotion, if only to breathe a little easier.

The staff member looked at me with compassion and asked softly, “Is this your first time losing someone close?” She reassured me, saying everyone goes through this sooner or later.

I understood what she meant logically. But seeing that confirmation form right in front of me, watching all my memories with him reduced to black ink on white paper—my mind had to register the fact, attempt to comprehend the concept of death, and finally, through that document, accept that he was truly gone. All the emotions I’d suppressed through the earlier stages broke through like a collapsing dam, triggered by each memory of him, and I completely lost control.

What made the dream feel so real wasn’t just the plausibility of the scene—it was the emotional shift I experienced inside it. It mirrored exactly what I felt the first time I attended a funeral: seeing him lying peacefully in the casket, the grief rushed out of me without warning. This dream, in its own way, made me relive that moment all over again.

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Closing
May this dream, born from real emotion, remind us all to cherish the people and time we have. Life is fragile—even if the odds feel small, someone you care about, or even you yourself, could leave without warning. Don’t let yourself look back with regret for what you didn’t do together. Don’t let the memories you leave behind be only painful for those who remain.

Spend a little more time, a little more presence. Build beautiful memories—through companionship, shared moments, and walking side by side through life.

— Xiao Chen Stories
October 15, 2025, 9–11 a.m.

P.S. As I was looking back, the song “错位时空” (“Misplaced Time”) played in my mind—a fitting soundtrack to the sorrow and longing I still carry.