“Alas, humans, they can see everything except themselves.”

Do we truly know the people in our lives? Should we? It’s easy to look deeply at others, to judge a situation, but it isn’t as easy to look within ourselves.

Looking within is precisely what the Thai series 7 Days Before Valentine asks its viewers to do. Adapted from the novel of the same name by Patrick Rangsimant, it follows actor Sunshine (Atom Nathaphop) as he faces a recent breakup followed by a fateful run-in with a Cupid Reaper named Q (Jet Somjet Saejang). Given the chance to erase seven people who might stand between him and his ex, Rain (Thank Ekdanai), Sunshine takes his life and others into his hands.

Having read the novel before diving into the series, it was easy to get swept into the grief that the book manages to portray so well while also being drawn into the Faustian situation Sunshine finds himself in.

Directed by Punnasak Sukee, 7 Days Before Valentines has the same theatrical feel that made his previous work, 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us, so profoundly moving. Character-driven, morally ambiguous, and heavy on symbolism, it takes the book it’s adapted from and brings it to life.

Which brings me back to the book.

The novel became a quick favorite for me, especially in how it faces death. I remember being taught the stages of grief in a psychology class and thinking, “So, that’s how it is?” Because as an aspiring writer, I wanted to understand things, people, and the world beyond the narrow world I knew.

That was before the avalanche of loss that happened in my own life. I’d lost things before. Homes. Pride. Love. But not people. I hadn’t lost people yet. My mother was my first loss. I was 23. My grandfather passed away the same year. My father and grandmother passed away a few years later, followed by my other grandparents. 6 people back-to-back. It made me think about grief again. The stages that science tells us we go through. And I realized something.

Grief isn’t a science. It’s an individual process. The stages of grief are a common collective someone realized many people, maybe even themselves, go through after losing someone. But it isn’t accurate to everyone. I never felt anger when I lost my mother. The first stage with her was shock. Then disbelief. Then profound heartache. Then troubling thoughts about how it happened. Then blankness. I never went through denial. The fact that my phone no longer rang with her daily calls was enough to remind me that she was no longer there. Instead, the looming void of her passing lay in ‘how?’ Because when you lose someone to a mystery or a possible crime, no one tells you how much emptiness that leaves you with forever.

The only death I experienced the five full stages of grief with was my father’s. We had a complicated relationship.

I’m not saying that the five stages of grief are wrong. Psychology is built on years of study that link a commonality. Studies show many people ‘typically’ go through this or that, and suddenly, it’s a probability—a guide for someone else to work with to help a person through it.

But if there is one thing life has taught me, it’s that the greatest thing we can do, the one thing I wished I’d known to do when I was younger, is to be more ‘present,’ to be more mindful of myself. Of the words I’ve said. The choices I’ve made. The family I have. The people I’ve met. Because one day, those people won’t be there. I won’t be here. And there is no set time for when, where, or how that will happen.

But there is the now.

The present is often lost to the memories of the past and the overwhelming possibilities of the future. But the present, as lost as it is in the shadows, is where memories are made, and the foundation for the future is set.

So, what I find the most interesting about 7 Days Before Valentine, both the book and the series, is that we have a character in the present making decisions while lost in the haze of heartache that will change the past and alter the future.

That’s how powerful the present is. And that’s why being mindful of who we are in the ‘now’ should never be lost in the shadows. In the end, we can blame our choices and situations on anything and everything, but we also still have to look at the part we played in those moments. No matter the pain we go through, the losses we experience, and the people we meet, we are only one tiny fragment in a massive picture. Everyone’s memories and dreams are different, affecting how we connect. That’s why manipulating even the smallest thing can cause a huge ripple effect.

Each life is a book that’s continually being written, a book that’s constantly collaborating with other books, other writers. As frustrating as open endings can be in films, dramas, and books, it’s fortunate that life is always open, the walk toward the finale an ever-changing, collaborating work-in-progress. And while the people we lose along the way may be gone, they’re still part of the story. My story. Other stories. Many, many stories. Even if, over time, who they were becomes a simple whisper on others’ lips.

Most profoundly, as someone who has experienced loss time and again, there’s a moment when I realized that loss teaches us to understand love. Before loss, love was something I dreamed of, hoped for, and even feared. After loss, I’ve grown to understand that love, like life, is something to cherish while we have it and to look back on when it’s gone to remind us why we should cherish it while it’s here. But, most of all, the biggest love we can have, experience, and learn from is with ourselves.

We are our own greatest love stories.

And, so while the premise behind the 7 Days Before Valentine novel is the stages of grief, I find myself caught in the nuanced web of symbolism the drama has threaded into this theme. The Faust and Dante’s Inferno touches go beyond death and grief to touch on things to consider. Nature (the character names, such as Rain, Sunshine, Earth, … etc.) and its relationship to us, action versus inaction, the power of language and identity, and so much more.

Every scene is a symbolic, theatrical work of art that takes viewers down into hell before lifting them to a much bigger understanding, even though it leaves much to consider. And we’re only three episodes in.

As I once was with Punnasak Sukee’s previous work, I am in awe of how he translates stories onto screen by taking the stage he knows so well and turning it into a story that feels like it’s taking place on stage inside my living room. Every character plays an integral part in the whole, each a symbolic and philosophical piece in a much bigger picture that manages to showcase just how human Sunshine is and how much of a spectator Q is.

Q is an entire work of art on his own, a Cupid Reaper that exists in a prison of guilt while facing the human he is both frustrated by and compelled to face. Jet does a beautiful job of showcasing the complicated emotions Q deals with while also having to strip people of their existence.

The world is a gray place, and 7 Days Before Valentine takes us into that gray space.

I am curious to see how the rest of the story unfolds. How deep Punnasak Sukee plans to take us into the hell Sunshine is traversing. All while often panning the camera to red roses, a symbol of love encased in a flower with thorns. Evil flirting with passion.

For a series that promises to make viewers think and feel, check out 7 Days Before Valentine now on WeTV/Tencent Video.