There is a familiar line from a film:
“If a person has no dreams, what makes them different from a salted fish?”
I used to agree wholeheartedly.
I was an engineer once, too.
I know what it is like to move from one deadline, project, meeting and progress update to the next. And I know that capable, responsible people often do not tell themselves, “I’m tired.” They say:
“Just hold on a little longer.”
“Things will be better once this busy stretch is over.”
“I’ll rest when this project is finished.”
We tend to think a little more effort cannot hurt. Work hard while we are young, and the future will be better.
But recently, I heard the stories of three men, one after another: one in his forties, one in his fifties and one aged 60. Three men at different stages of life, all still working, carrying responsibilities and moving forward.
Their stories brought one thing into focus for me: one person’s presence affects more than that person alone.
At 44: So many “laters” that never came
The man in his forties was an engineer, too. At 44, he suddenly collapsed at work.
His family thought there would still be time once he reached the hospital. Perhaps he was simply feeling unwell. Perhaps it was something sudden that could be dealt with. Perhaps, after some tests and treatment, he would be able to go home.
But before he reached the hospital, he was gone.
Forty-four. An age when there should still have been so many plans, responsibilities and things to do “later.”
His home loan was not yet paid off. His life was not yet fully lived. So many things may still have been waiting under “I’ll arrange that later.”
But life did not wait for him.
At 53: Heartache, and a deep sense of relief
The man in his fifties was my mentor. He had been my boss when I worked in engineering, and someone I learned so much from. I have always respected him because he is capable, knows how to get things done and takes his responsibilities seriously.
Not long ago, at just 53, he was found to have severe blockages in three blood vessels of his heart: one at 95%, one at 85% and one at 70%.
When he had surgery on September 5, I felt a real ache in my heart.
Because I know people like him so well. When someone has a problem, he handles it. When work has a problem, he handles it. When the team has a problem, he handles it. When pressure comes, he carries it.
But being capable and strong-willed does not mean we can always push through a health problem.
Thankfully, he made it through. Alongside that heartache, I felt a deep sense of relief.
At 60: The worry reaches beyond one person
The man aged 60 was my university classmate’s boss. He, too, had a heart problem.
When my classmate told me about it, she was worried about more than her boss’s health. She asked a question that stayed with me:
“If our boss really passes away, what will happen to the company?”
Then, quite naturally, another worry followed:
“What will happen to our jobs?”
In that moment, I realised how many people one person’s health can affect.
If a boss becomes unable to carry on, it is not only his family who may worry. There is the company, the employees and the families behind those employees. Each employee’s income may be supporting a home loan, children, parents and everyday living costs.
Sometimes, when one person falls, it is not just one household that feels the impact. It is a whole circle of lives.
One person’s presence is like ripples on water
Afterwards, I kept thinking about how we usually look at a person and see only that individual. But that is not the whole picture.
A man may be someone’s husband, a child’s father, his parents’ son, an employer, a colleague people rely on, a friend’s source of support, and someone who matters deeply to another person.
We often think a person works hard for himself. But so often, that person is helping to hold many lives together.
That is why I increasingly feel that the heartbreak is not only that someone has gone. It is that, after he is gone, so many people have to readjust their lives.
A household may lose a source of income. A child loses someone to lean on. A partner loses someone to walk beside. If he is also a boss, employees may lose someone who leads them, and the company may lose a decision-maker. Friends lose someone they could talk to. Parents may lose the person they least wanted to lose.
One person’s departure is never just a single point. It is like ripples on water, spreading out, circle after circle.
I am not against chasing dreams. In fact, I deeply respect people who take their work, their lives and their responsibilities seriously.
Because many people’s dreams were never only for themselves: they want their children to have a better education, their parents to grow old without worrying about money, their partner to feel a little more secure, their employees to have steady jobs and their company to keep going. They want the people around them to feel reassured because they are there.
As someone takes on more responsibilities, the dreams they pursue are no longer only their own. There are many people standing behind them.
Caring for the person who holds everything together is a responsibility, too
That is why these three stories made me reconsider something: while we are pushing ahead, are we also taking care of the person who is holding everything together?
Because if that person becomes unable to carry on, there may not immediately be someone who can pick everything up.
Our bodies get tired, and our health deserves care. However heavy our responsibilities are, they do not mean we can keep ignoring our own needs.
We often think, “I cannot afford to fall.” But the more strongly we feel that, the more we need to ask: what would happen if I really did?
I do not think fear, on its own, serves a purpose. If all it does is frighten us, it does not help. But sometimes fear is a reminder: to get our health checked, stop putting rest last, treasure our families, make the arrangements that need to be made, and stop leaving important things for “later.”
Because “later” is never guaranteed.
Forty, fifty, sixty. Three men, three stories, reminding me that the length of a life does not follow an age-ordered queue. And that one person’s presence matters far more than we imagine.
You may think you are simply one person at work. But someone may depend on your income to live, on your decisions to do their work, or on your company to feel at ease. Someone may feel the world is a little steadier because you are still here.
Keep working towards your dreams, and take care of your life, too
I am writing this not to create anxiety, but to offer a gentle reminder to everyone working hard at life:
Keep chasing your dreams. Keep making the effort. Keep being capable and willing to shoulder responsibility.
But please remember that caring for yourself is a responsibility, too.
Because you are not only yourself. You are part of a family, part of a company, and an important part of many relationships.
Sometimes we keep thinking, “I want to do more for the people around me.” But perhaps, to them, having you a little healthier, a little less rushed and safe and well is already a great happiness.
So please, keep making the effort, and take good care of your life, too.
You may not realise how many lives your presence helps hold together.
Disclaimer
This article is for educational purposes only and does not constitute financial or insurance advice. Coverage terms are subject to the policy contract. Contact Faith for personalised advice.