Losing precious things

By Sah Dong-seok

A month ago I lost a wristwatch my wife had bought me as a wedding gift nearly 25 years ago. I searched every nook and cranny to find my lost watch at home, but to no avail. I traced my vague memory back to confirm if I might have left it at some other places I visited before I was aware of my losing the watch. I faintly remembered taking my watch off and putting it on the table at a restaurant, and so I called several restaurants.

My wife remembered buying the watch, a locally made one produced by a joint venture between Korean and Japanese companies, for about 700,000 won. It was neither a globally-recognized luxury brand nor a cheap one. In terms of economic value, there was no reason for me to regret it too much because it served me for such a long time.

Sympathizing with my deep sense of loss, my wife combed the Internet to find the same type of watch I lost. Because the model has been discontinued, she had to scrutinize a handful of online marketplaces for secondhand watches. After days of work, she finally discovered one. Unfortunately, however, it was the model for women, which was priced at 70,000 won on the Internet.

As soon as my watch was gone, I felt something lacking but soon made up my mind to take the loss for what it was. Despite the elapse of time, however, my empty heart rarely eased. My wife scrutinized the Internet to buy me a new reasonably priced watch, but I am still overcome with feelings of loss. Indeed it was not until I lost my watch that I knew how precious it was.

Come to think of it, just how many precious things are there around us? What if I lose something that is much more important than a watch?

We often feel fed up with our jobs merely because we have done that work for a long time. Little wonder therefore that we imagine how things would have been different had we opted for other jobs.

Would I have made a big fortune if I had entered a subsidiary of a large conglomerate and climbed the corporate ladder successfully? Or might I have won fame if I had worked at a bigger newspaper company or a broadcaster?

All this is merely a pipe dream. But just imagining might be worth it, though I have come to realize how precious my work is. Of course there were times when I hated my work for no apparent reason. But as time goes by, we learn the value of doing our work no matter how difficult it may be.

The same can be said of our families. We often take them for granted merely because they have been with us for a long time. We don’t dare imagine a life without them and hardly feel how precious they are to us.

But how would it be if there were no families to welcome us at home? Of course a growing number of young people prefer to live alone for various reasons. Some cite the difficulties in making a living in this highly competitive society, and others cite the weakening of social norms that made marriage mandatory. Whatever the reasons may be, there is no question that living with families is blissful.

What comes to mind while fretting about my lost watch is that we need to get accustomed to parting ways with what is precious. That’s because we know that nothing is permanent in this world.

If retirement is drawing near, people tend to have mixed feelings _ anxiety about the future on the one hand and anticipation for much freer time on the other. But what’s clear is that we will have to quit our workplaces someday.

Both I and my wife lost parents a long time ago. Back then, their deaths came as a shock, putting us in profound distress. Actually we were not prepared to let them go.

None of my close friends has yet to die, but there is no denying that such a possibility will occur sooner or later. I am helpless about that and there is no other way but to accept it calmly. But I often imagine the time when I leave my family and friends for good.

What all this shows is clear: you should cherish precious things more when they are at hand. As a desperate measure not to suffer heartache again when losing precious things, I have made it a rule to put all my articles in regular positions. Even with this, however, perfection won’t be guaranteed.

The writer is the executive editor of The Korea Times. Contact him at sahds@ktimes.com

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