I don’t know much about my uncle. Because he led a very secluded life for nearly 40 years.

According to my grandmother, my uncle was what people called “prodigy”. From a young age, he excelled academically. He went to the most prestigious university in Japan, and he continued his studies to become a science researcher.

However, as he was working for his Ph.D in quantum physics, he suffered nervous breakdown. Neurosis was the diagnosis. He had to give up on his doctorate and retreated into his parent’s home to get better. 

But what treatment? It was the early 80s. In Japan then, people had little access to psychiatric treatment, or so it seems.

Furthermore, the social stigma of mental illness was very strong back then. (In fact, it still is.) There were no support groups, there was no Internet. People concealed any family members with a mental illness so as not to affect the marriage or employment prospects of other family members. 

The government even forbade him from working or owing any properties since he was categorized as “Incompetent” (That was the official term used to define his status). 

And so he just stayed at home, not doing anything in particular. He walked around his neighborhood, read books, played piano, listened to music, and did some ceramics. 

He passed away a few years ago at the age of 61 which was very young for a Japanese male.

Sometimes I wonder how he saw his life. His life makes me think about my own life. From the outside, he had a wonderful lifestyle. It would look a state of nirvana. He didn’t have to work. He didn’t have to take care of his family. He didn’t have to commit to anything. He could spend 40 years doing whatever he wanted to do, or so it seemed. And his family supported him financially and emotionally. Nobody criticized him. He was free from the stresses, the competitions, the burdens most of us face. Was that a fulfilling life? Or else?

I can’t tell. Maybe I should not pass judgement. 

“Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” — Wittgenstein was one of the many books he had.

All I can say is I liked listening to him playing the piano.