Welcome to the fifth issue of Slice of Life — a newsletter about life lessons in anime. It’s been some time since I last published. This one is a bit personal for me and have been sitting in my drafts for some time. It’s not (near) perfect, but it’s time.
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Frieren is a white-haired elf who lives a long life. She carries herself with calmness and poise most of the time, but she may appear emotionally detached to those less acquainted with her. She is familiar with solitude, dedicating most of her days to the search for new magical knowledge. She glides through her days as if she has all the time in the world—which, in a way, she does—occasionally overlooking that most people do not share this luxury.
So, when she joined a party of heroes to defeat the Demon King, a journey that spanned 10 years, it was barely a fraction of her time. This reflects the vast difference in how she perceives time compared to her human and dwarf companions. To her, those times may seem like insignificant brief moments, but to the rest, it was a life-changing decade.
This mirrors our own perception of time too, which stretches endlessly in our youth but passes in the blink of an eye as we grow older. Similarly, we often take for granted the relationships and connections that matter most, failing to treasure each day with those we love until stark realities force us to confront the importance of those bonds. Like many, I am no stranger to this, having learned the hard way and recognizing the value of time and connections only after experiencing loss.
When their adventure concluded, Frieren left the party to continue pursuing her quest for knowledge, with a promise to return in 50 years to witness the rare comet sighting together again. Upon her return, she was surprised to find Himmel, once vibrant and youthful, now aged and frail, along with the rest of the party. The impact of time's passage became poignantly clear when Himmel passed away shortly after their final adventure to watch the comets. It was only during his burial that Frieren began to truly reflect on their past and realized how little she knew him. Overwhelmed with emotions, she regretted not deepening their connection while he was alive or during their decade-long journey. To her, ten years might have seemed trivial, but to Himmel and the others, it meant everything.
This serves as a stark reminder of the common mistake we make in assuming that people who matter will always be there. Despite being told not to take them for granted and to cherish each moment, it’s often only when we face abrupt changes that we feel the sharp sting of remorse.
Navigating the ebbs and flows of human connections often feels like moving through a constantly shifting landscape. Change is inevitable—that I know—but it still comes with the ache of losing cherished connections that I once believed would last longer or even a lifetime. More piercing is the feeling of abandonment when someone you were once close with forsakes the bond for newer or better connections. This leads to a painful question: Did our time together mean anything at all? The pain of being replaced, of seeing shared memories fade into obsolescence, can deeply affect your sense of belonging and self-esteem, prompting doubts about your own adequacy. This is when we should detach these feelings of attachment from our self-worth, which can be a journey filled with much introspection as well as sorrow from letting go and moving on.
It’s a huge shame when you realize a relationship, whether romantic or platonic, will not continue the trajectory it once promised. While some connections can be rekindled, salvaging the remains of the past bond, others may not survive due to the pain associated with the change.
Eventually, you come to accept that some relationships may simply run their course. In this acceptance, there is a gentle release—an opening to new possibilities, paving the way for better and more aligned connections. This process is truly challenging, but it’s a necessary part of life’s continual growth and renewal.
After Himmel’s burial, Frieren almost swiftly resumed her travels for knowledge. Along the way, she met new adventurers whom she has come to treasure now. Yet, throughout the series, there were flashes of moments she had with Himmel and the rest of the party, but they were not marred by grief. Rather, they appear as fond memories and lessons that remind her of them. This depiction of remembering without the weight of grief and sorrow is admirable and poignant considering her long lifespan, magnified by her eternal nature.
I find myself envious of her grace in handling memories without the shadow of grief, as my thoughts and feelings are often accompanied by sorrow and longing, though it gets better with time. It can be even more disheartening when your past connections seemed to have moved on. Ideally, I too would want to rid myself from this grief to “move on”. But I’ve come to learn that grief, though persistent, will never truly leave; it comes and goes, but it shouldn’t prevent us from moving forward with our lives. Memories might occasionally resurface that reminds you of them, especially in familiar places like your favourite restaurants or spots, potentially triggering the discomfort and pain depending on your current state of mind mood. But these memories can be landmarks of our journeys, reminding us of what we’ve been through and guiding us to better opportunities.
I often ponder what might have been done differently to strengthen those past bonds. I might have taken things for granted on what might have been stable relationships. Could better communication or priorization have maintained our connection? Could I have better evaluated our connection? But these reflections turned regret about missed opportunities for close bond are now merged into memories of the past.
I don’t know how to feel about “fate”, but if those relationships and connections were meant to last, perhaps they would have endured. There was only so much within my control, and I acted with what I knew then. Perhaps the conclusion was for the best, which could allow me to pursue more meaningful connections without lingering regrets now that I know what’s better for me.
Those connections might have been “brief”, but it doesn’t diminish their significance to me. There were good times too, and the time you enjoyed wasting is never a waste of time.
I came to adopt this saying from my dad which deeply resonate with me now than ever: this too shall pass. No matter what you do, time waits for no one and time will pass anyway — both the good and bad times will pass. So, we might as well move forward making the most of each moment, with less regret and anticipation of better connections and experiences, as we navigate through the flow of time.
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See you in the next issue!
Warmest regards,
Yihui