The tragedy of life is not so much what men suffer, but rather what they miss.

Suffering announces itself and gets counted. What never happened does not: the letter unsent, the friendship allowed to lapse, the years spent waiting for a better moment. Those absences leave no scar and no story, which is how they accumulate for decades without anyone noticing, including you.

None of this asks you to weigh your pain against anybody else’s, or to decide that something you carried was the lesser problem. It is a nudge to check the quiet column. Name one thing you have been missing by default rather than by choice, and do a small part of it this week.