I take the same train every morning. 7:14 from Shibuya. There's this old man who's always on it. Same car. Same seat. We made eye contact once. He nodded. I nodded back. That was our entire relationship for eight months. Then one day he wasn't there. I thought nothing of it. Week 2: Still not there. Week 3: A woman sat in his seat. She was crying. I minded my business. But then she pulled out a photo and just stared at it. It was the old man. Me: quietly, Excuse me... is that... the man who usually sits here? Her: surprised, You knew my father? Me: We... we nodded at each other. Every morning. Her: starts crying harder Her: He passed away three weeks ago. Me: I'm so sorry. Her: He talked about you. Me: What? We never spoke. Her: He told me "There's a young man on my train. He nods at me. It's the best part of my morning." I felt like I'd been punched. Her: He didn't have many friends. Lived alone. I only saw him once a month. Her: But he always mentioned you. "The nodding man." Me: I didn't even know his name. Her: Takeshi. She handed me the photo. Her: He'd want you to have this. Me: I can't take this... Her: Please. You were part of his routine. He loved routines. I took it. We sat in silence for the rest of the ride. The next day: A different old man sat in Takeshi's seat. We made eye contact. I nodded. He nodded back. I still ride that train. I nod at that man every morning. I don't know his name either. But I'm not making that mistake again. I'm going to talk to him tomorrow. UPDATE: I talked to him. His name is Hiroshi. He likes baseball and has three grandchildren. He invited me to lunch next week. I'm going. Takeshi's daughter sent me a message: "He'd be so happy you're doing this." I'm absolutely crying on the train right now.