The Last Day Of My Life

At the age of thirty, Trivedi suffered a heart attack. He was sent home with a long list of do’s and don’ts, medicines, life style changes, diet restrictions etc. For a couple of months, Trivedi followed everything religiously. No drinking, no smoking, no non-vegetarian food, no tensions, regular walks etc. Slowly, he started feeling better and better.

As time went by, one by one the restrictions started slipping. Rich food, long hours at work, tensions, smoking etc. all played havoc with his health. Four years later, he suffered another stroke. While he was convalescing, a friend gave him a book to read, about the purpose of life. That started a series of thoughts. He stayed at the hospital for a month. He came home, a completely changed man. The doctors had told him in no uncertain terms that if he did not behave himself he could start counting his days.

He looked at his beautiful wife and two little daughters. What would happen to them, if he were to die? He followed the directions of the doctors. Most important of all he developed an attitude of love towards all. He fostered love on who ever came his way. Slowly and surely he regained his health. His attitude was always positive, helpful and loving. Understandably, friends, relatives and neighbours started seeking his help and advice on various issues for he seemed to be wiser than his contemporaries.

At the age of seventy four, he sat with his grand daughter one evening. She asked, “Grandpa, how are you so good? How do you manage to love so many people?” The old man smiled, revealing the crow’s feet at the corners of his twinkling eyes. “My dearest baby, I had a close brush with death when I was thirty four. It was then that I learnt how life should be lived. A friend gave me a book. It had a poem in it. This is what it said,

I expect to pass
Through life but once,
If therefore there be,
Any kindness
I can show,
Or any good things
I can do to any fellow being,
Let me do it now.
For I shall not pass
This way again.
For I shall not pass
This way again.

He recited the poem boisterously without faltering. He had obviously learnt and lived it over and over.

Then he said, “My precious child, I live each day as if it were my last. Each morning when I wake up, I thank God, for being alive. I live each moment as if it were my last. So I try to do only that, what I would do on the last day of my life.”