I am a train off the track.

People talk about their life, their job, their problems and so on. I listened to them but in my mind say, "so what?" I act as if I care about this ordinary life. I talk and laugh as if the feeling of everything surreal I had when my wife died is now gone. But I know deep inside that I still don't think this thing called life is a serious matter that I should care about. My wife's death broke the firm ground I used to stand on.  I know that my life and everything in it can turn into a vapor in a wink. Everything is ephemeral.

People get married. They plan a vacation. They buy and decorate a Christmas tree.  They wonder where they will see the new year's sunrise. I have two opposite feelings at the same time for the people. I envy them because they are still in the cozy ordinary life where nothing dreadful happens. But I also have a devilish thought that their seemingly firm ground can collapse in a moment.

I read Camus and Sartre when I was in my 20s. Most of themes they described in their books were something I only partly understood when I was young.  For example, the absurdity that Camus wrote about in the myth of Sisyphus and the nausea that Sartre talked about was something that I can think about but I really did not feel what they were like.

When my wife died in a manner that only the worst kind of criminals deserved, the sense of absurdity and nausea became my reality. The world was not an ordinary place where you can have a leisurely time. The world is a slaughter house where some people with bad luck get chosen and chopped up while other people are enjoying picnic not hearing the scream inside the house.  Absurdity and nausea are not philosophical concepts. They are my life. They are my reality.

One of my friends knew a very good fortune teller. This friend told him about my life story, what I was going through with my wife's cancer. This guy said that I was having that experience because the fate, the providence or whatever wanted me to learn valuable lessons about the meaning of life.  A few good life lessons in exchange for a good and kindhearted woman's undeserving death and pain. I said to myself "bullshit" when I heard that. I still think so and I will think that way until I die. Maybe the life lesson I was supposed to learn was that life is bullshit.