When I take my dad’s wallet out of my desk drawer and hold it in my hands, it brings me what the Japanese would call mono no aware, which translates literally as “the pathos of things” but means more broadly, “a melancholic awareness of the transience of existence.” My father’s wallet reminds me that nothing lasts. Just when you’re starting to get comfortable, you disappear. And maybe only one or two of your things will seem important to someone else when you’re gone. That’s sad, but it’s also a reason to wake up to the enormity of the moment, to the unbelievable gift of being alive, right
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