“As long as we can love each other, and remember the feeling of love we had, we can die without ever really going away.”
All the love you created is still there. All the memories are still there.
You live on—in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here.”
His voice was raspy, which usually meant he needed to stop for a while.
I placed the plant back on the ledge and went to shut off the tape recorder.
This is the last sentence Morrie got out before I did: “Death ends a life, not a relationship.”
There had been a development in the treatment of ALS: an experimental drug that was just gaining passage.
It was not a cure, but a delay, a slowing of the decay for perhaps a few months.
Morrie had heard about it, but he was too far gone. Besides, the medicine wouldn't be available for several months.
“Not for me,” Morrie said, dismissing it. In all the time he was sick, Morrie never held out hope he would be cured.
He was realistic to a fault. One time, I asked if someone were to wave a magic wand and make him all better,
would he become, in time, the man he had been before?
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