I came to South Africa alone, leaving my family back in Japan. Recently, I happened to glance at a note my wife had written, and in that simple moment, the vast distance between us hit me with an indescribable heaviness.
Living in Parallel Worlds
I can’t know what they’re seeing, what emotions they’re carrying, or how their day is unfolding.
The small, everyday moments — a casual gesture over dinner, a spontaneous conversation, the little stories that make up their day — all of this remains invisible to me now.
I’m here in South Africa, working and living my life, while my family continues their daily routine in Japan.
I have experiences that only I know, while they accumulate memories and moments that belong only to them.
Day by day, these separate realities grow further apart, like parallel lines that will never meet.
Even with all our online calls and text messages, we can’t truly share the texture of each other’s daily emotions and experiences.
When I try to picture my family now, I can only reach back to how they looked the last time I saw them, or imagine them within the limited framework of my own assumptions.
Finding Growth in the Space Between
But this distance has taught me something valuable too.
Being apart has given me space to reflect on our past conversations and shared moments.
I find myself thinking,
“I should have said this differently,” or
“I wish I had handled that situation better.”
This isn’t just about dwelling on regrets — it’s about genuine self-reflection that can actually improve our relationships moving forward.
Perhaps this is something that only separation can offer: the quiet space to slowly build these thoughtful reflections, to process and learn from our shared history.
And maybe, when we’re finally reunited, this time apart will have prepared us for something new and positive — a fresh chapter in our family’s story.
