My dad died.

I was sitting on a plastic chair at the ICU, outside the cubicle where he lay, waiting for the death certificate.

That night I felt that I was the saddest person in the world. Then a lady walked up to me.

She glanced inside the cubicle at him and asked me “is that your dad or your mom?”

“My dad,” I replied.

“I’m sure that, whatever he has, he’ll come out of it okay.”

I thought of my dead father lying six feet behind me and said nothing. This lady clearly needed to say something.

She told me about her 98-year-old mother who had broken her femur. How she had always been active, even in her old age. This lady was clearly afraid for her mother’s life.

We tend to think of our tragedies as unique, all-encompassing, all-important. We forget that everybody has their personal and professional tragedies as well.

Ignoring that is what leads us into self-pity.

We all need to care more about others’ sorrows and not give so much weight to our own.

That would lead us to a more humane world and workplace.