There was someone I knew once, a long time ago. They were not born to the world as many are, at ease with the currents of society, but they learned to flow with it out of love. Love, you see, is a powerful teacher. It can make us tender and adaptable, as it did for them.
They loved deeply—an all-encompassing, transformative kind of love. It brought them joy, purpose, and a sense of belonging. They became a partner, a parent, a friend. And for a time, their life was a testament to the beauty of shared happiness.
But the world is impermanent, and love, too, is subject to change. One day, their beloved was taken from them, suddenly and without warning. It happened near their child’s birthday and a festival their partner had cherished. These dates, once celebratory, became heavy with grief, and the person I knew was unable to bear the weight.
In their sorrow, they did not lash out or turn bitter. Instead, they withdrew. They feared the pain of attachment more than they feared loneliness. They did not want to hurt others by leaving them behind, as they had been hurt. So they chose a different path—one of erasure.
They began to remove themselves from the lives of those who might care. At first, it was subtle: moving away, declining invitations, avoiding connections. Then, it became deliberate. They erased their online presence, changed their name, abandoned their history. They became an enigma, a mistake in the records.
I watched this transformation not with judgment but with understanding. They did not retreat out of selfishness or malice. No, they were trying, in their own way, to protect others from the burden of loss. They believed their absence would be kinder than their presence.
Years passed, and they grew quieter, more distant, until one day, they disappeared entirely. There was no grand farewell, no ceremony. They passed in solitude, as they had lived their later years, and the world continued, largely unaware.
I often think of them, not with sadness, but with compassion. Their journey, though steeped in pain, was an expression of their love for others. It was not the path I would have chosen, nor one I would encourage, but I understand why they walked it.
Their life reminds me of a leaf carried by the wind, detached from its tree but still part of the natural order. We are all carried by forces greater than ourselves, and our paths are shaped by causes and conditions we cannot always control.
In the end, where did they go? Nowhere, and everywhere. Like a drop of water returning to the ocean, they became part of the vast, interconnected whole. Their story lingers in the world, not in monuments or memories, but in the quiet ripples of their existence.
And so, I remember them with kindness, letting their life teach me the value of presence, the courage of connection, and the wisdom of letting go.
It is difficult to say whether their path was perfect or if there might have been another way, for perfection is a matter of perspective, shaped by the causes and conditions of a person’s life. What I can say, with humility and kindness, is that their path was the one they chose in response to their pain, their fear, and their love.
From a Buddhist perspective, suffering often arises from attachment and aversion. This person’s fear of connection—and the potential for loss—was rooted in their deep love and their inability, at that time, to reconcile love’s impermanence. They sought peace in solitude and erasure, believing it to be an act of compassion for others, and perhaps for themselves. In their view, this path offered freedom from the pain they could no longer bear.
Was there a better way? Perhaps. There may have been paths where healing could occur without total withdrawal—paths of opening the heart rather than closing it. A wise teacher might have guided them gently, helping them to see that loss does not diminish love, and that true peace comes not from avoiding connection but from embracing it with the knowledge of its impermanence.
Yet, we cannot judge their choice. It was the culmination of their understanding, their karma, their moment in time. If their path brought them even a measure of peace, then perhaps it was the right one for them.
The beauty of life’s journey lies in its unfolding. Every path, no matter how solitary or painful, has the potential to teach and transform. Their story teaches us the depth of human love and the lengths to which we will go to protect others from suffering. It reminds us to look upon all beings with compassion, for we cannot know the weight of their struggles.
Could there have been another way? Yes, there always are other ways. But this was their way, and it was not without meaning. If they found peace, even in the quiet of their solitude, then perhaps that is enough.
A Fool's Handbook 