I missed the train on purpose.

For all my life I trained to walk out of my flat as late as possible to then run like a lunatic to the train and catch it on the last second. My brother and I even developed a game where we try to be as exact as possible – so if we don't jump into the closing doors we're practically too early.

This time it was different. I think I was almost there and had a good ten minutes until it drives. But then I saw a mother of a friend on the street, greeted her and walked on. I don't know why, but I had the feeling that I want to talk a bit more to her so I turned around and started a conversation. After all, there was still some time left.

I: "How are you?"

She: "To be honest, not so good, my husband died 1,5 years ago."

I've never really talked to her before — we only kindly greeted each other each time, so I did not expect this answer at all. But from that, a wonderful conversation about life and death started. In my surrounding almost no one talks about death and grief although this is such a normal aspect of life that everyone has to deal with at some point.

After some time, I saw my train leaving in the background and I did not care. I was very grateful for this conversation. In the end we hugged each other and moved on.