An 83-year-old writes a moving letter to her friend
An 83-year-old woman sent the following message to her friend Bertha. The last lines sum up her life experiences perfectly:
For some time, I have been reading more and cleaning less. I sit in the yard and admire the view, without getting up to weed the garden. I now spend more time with the family and less time on work.
If possible, life should be a mosaic of enjoyable experiences, not a patchwork of difficult ones. I try to recognize and cherish these moments.
I don't 'save' anything: We fetch our porcelain and crystal glasses for special occasions like the blooming of the first daffodil, when someone loses a few pounds or the drain is unblocked again.
I wear my nicest jacket when I go to the store. Because I imagine that if I look wealthy, I can also spend $30 on a small bag of groceries. I don't save my best perfume for special occasions, but I wear it for the sales assistants at the hardware store and the clerks at the bank.
'Sometime' or 'one day' have been removed from my vocabulary. There are so many things to see, hear and do and I want to see, hear and do them now.
We take it for granted that we are going to wake up every day. I'm not sure what other people have done differently when they've known that there is no tomorrow. I believe they would have called relatives and a few close friends. Maybe they called former friends to apologize and put old differences aside. I like the idea that maybe they went to a Chinese restaurant or their favorite local bar.
I'm only guessing. I don't want to know.
It would make me angry if I lost sight of precisely those small things, knowing that, above all, our time is limited. Angry, because there were certain things I wanted to do 'someday' that I never did. Angry and upset that I never told my husband and my parents often enough that I really love them.
I try really hard not to postpone things, not to hold back on or wait to do things that give our lives laughter, joy and luster. Every morning that I open my eyes, I say to myself that this is a special day.
Every day, every minute, every breath is truly a gift.
Maybe life is not the raucous party we had anticipated it would be. But we can all always dance."
Bertha's friend summarizes perfectly how important it is to live in the here and now and to enjoy every moment. Everyone should hang her words over their bed so they can be reminded of them anew each day.