“ ‘My God, this is terrible,the wave says.Look what's going to happen to me!’ ”
Then along comes another wave. It sees the first wave, looking grim, and it says to him, ‘Why do you look so sad?’
The first wave says, ‘You don't understand! We're all going to crash! All of us waves are going to be nothing! Isn't it terrible?’
The second wave says, ‘No, you don't understand. You're not a wave, you're part of the ocean.’
I smile. Morrie closes his eyes again. “Part of the ocean,” he says, “part of the ocean.” I watch him breathe, in and out, in and out.
The Fourteenth Tuesday We Say Good-bye
It was cold and damp as I walked up the steps to Morrie's house.
I took in little details, things I hadn't noticed for all the times I'd visited.
The cut of the hill. The stone facade of the house. The pachysandra plants, the low shrubs.
I walked slowly, taking my time, stepping on dead wet leaves that flattened beneath my feet.
Charlotte had called the day before to tell me Morrie was not doing well. This was her way of saying the final days had arrived.
Morrie had canceled all of his appointments and had been sleeping much of the time, which was unlike him.
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