On the Destination of Feelings That Could Not Be Put Into Words

Walking under the lights before Christmas,
I thought about the shadows of feelings that remained, unable to be put into words.
With nowhere to go,
only the presence of them lingering deep in my chest remains, not yet faded.

As Christmas approaches, the temperature of the air softens just a little.
Watching the lights increase in the city,
for some reason, I found myself thinking about 'distance'.

The visible and invisible distances between us and others.
The kind that could be closed if one tried,
yet somehow becomes a 'temperature difference' that opens up before we know it.
During work today, there was an incident that made me quietly aware of this,
and the lingering feeling followed me quietly all the way home.

It is truly difficult to see the 'changes' in family members who live apart.
When meeting after a long time,
my heart is stirred, wondering, 'Oh, have they become this frail?'
In that moment, between the memories of the past and their current appearance,
a small gap like a step is created.
Unable to fully cross that gap,
the feeling of not being able to immediately accept reality,
to be honest, is something I can understand a little, too.

Where on earth does this worry with nowhere to go end up?
If you tell family members living together, relationships become strained.
You cannot tell the person themselves.
Yet, anxiety does not disappear just by staying silent.
Such thoughts sometimes flow quietly
toward us caregivers.

It is not that we are being blamed.
I understand that well.
Even so, deep in my chest,
a 'little bit of loneliness' quietly sinks in.
Ah, there was likely nowhere else for that frustration to go—
when I think that, I cannot say anything.

Still, there is a kindness that can only be protected because there is distance.
Because when you are close, there are things you inevitably see.
Whether it is aging, frailty,
or moments when you want to accept them but your heart cannot keep up.
That is why I think it is only natural to feel the desire
to do something for them, even if it is only when we can meet after a long time.
It is not that I want to deny that feeling.

It is just that being misunderstood is, after all, painful.
A sensation remains as if understanding and pain are sitting quietly in the same place.

The people receiving care,
the families supporting them,
and we who work on the front lines,
everyone is doing their best in places unseen.
Just as there are days when that effort does not reach,
there are also days when we wish it would reach.
Such fluctuations of feeling
were rippling quietly deep in my chest forever.

The temperature difference created by distance has surely existed since long ago.
It is not something that can be completely filled,
and perhaps there is no need to force it to be filled.

Just as the seasons change naturally,
if our hearts can change little by little,
perhaps that is enough—.
Thinking such things, I quietly tucked away the lingering feeling of the day.