We married after a seven year courtship. I was back to work a week after the wedding.
I told her—and myself—that we would one day start a family, something she wanted very much. But that day never came.
Instead, I buried myself in accomplishments, because with accomplishments, I believed I could control things,
I could squeeze in every last piece of happiness before I got sick and died, like my uncle before me, which I figured was my natural fate.
As for Morrie? Well, I thought about him now and then,
the things he had taught me about “being human” and “relating to others,”
but it was always in the distance, as if from another life.
Over the years, I threw away any mail that came from Brandeis University, figuring they were only asking for money.
So I did not know of Morrie's illness. The people who might have told me were long forgotten,
their phone numbers buried in some packed-away box in the attic.
It might have stayed that way, had I not been flicking through the TV channels late one night, when something caught my ear...
The Audiovisual
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