I curse myself for not being eloquent enough in speech or in the written word.
I curse myself for not being rich enough, so that I could distribute his words to the world.
I curse myself for being so unaware, of life’s greatest lessons when they presented themselves before me countless of times in life.
I bought a book titled “Tuesdays with Morrie” two days ago.
If I was rich enough, I would buy every person in this world a copy of this book.
Similar to Randy Pausch’s “The Last Lecture” – only more passionate, and carry more advices that the hour long lecture could contain, Morrie Schwartz – a sociology professor who embraced life on his deathbed, shared his greatest advices on living life with his student Mitch Albom.
Mitch Albom eventually written “Tuesdays with Morrie”, sharing his professor’s final ‘thesis’ with him, about what matters most to a person who knows his days are numbered, and the greatest points most of us have missed while going through our daily ordeals.
I only hope I could be eloquent enough to state how precious this book could be to you.
But no words can describe better, Morrie’s final days of being the teacher he is, than his advices which came straight from his examplary actions before he died.
I could go on writing every word I could muster from my brains about his teachings, but my heart aches knowing that I’ll never be able to accomplish a good job delivering his words to you.
I had only one way.
To let you know, that “Tuesdays with Morrie” exists on almost any major book store, and I sincerely hope you would buy it over any other books you’re considering next.
One of the biggest takeaways, and one of the most vivid picture I had in mind from reading “Tuesdays with Morrie” – is to realize that when I’m lying on the bed at old age, barely able to move my sunken, helpless body…
What I would want most,
Is to have many, many people who love me stay or visit my bedside, allowing me to still love them, and be loved in return, knowing that my final days are the brightest, truest, most giving – even if they may be most helpless, days of my life.
Just like Morrie.
For, what do all other things in the world matter to you, if you were to bring none of them with you, and had to be alone through your last days, not being able to wipe your own ass, not being able enough to toughen up for the next ordeal, not having anyone to accompany you in the darkness of your own room?
Anything I would say would only sound brash, forgive me.
I couldn’t do it as well as Morrie, who was able to put the harshest situations of life into a genuine perspective of kind, touching, and lasting lessons that anyone who listens to him would remember, if not for a long time, for life.
Too young, too naive, too egoistic, I couldn’t yet fully live out Morrie’s example, and this aches me.
But the least I can do is point you to that $7.50 book on the book shelf, give you my promise that it’ll be a book worth reading – no matter who you are – and nod solemnly in the direction of it earnestly expressing, “get it”.
I only hope I was rich enough, so I could buy every person in this world Morrie’s precious advices for free.
So that we could all know how to live a full life.
And die knowing that we had had a meaningful one.
A truly, meaningful one.