Tuesdays With Morrie

I’ve just watched Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom. Yes, watched, as in on TV. Remember what I said about the Hallmark channel?

And in watching this movie, I wished I had read the book. Well, there’s a high chance that I might never walk into that bookshop to buy it, cos, well, just because because. It’s been very long since I’ve walked into a bookshop anyway.

I find that, never have I been so captivated by other movies, no matter how inspirational they are. Not even The Five People You Meet In Heaven by the same author has that effect on me. Maybe because Tuesdays With Morrie is more close to reality than others. (Even though some other movies are based on true stories, but I can’t relate to them.) I don’t have a prof or teacher whom I would talk to, but what I can relate to is about living and dying. ‘In learning how to die, you learn how to live.’ This particular line came out a few times and struck me hard. Do I know how to live?

What is, then, living? Is it doing everything you want to do? Is it doing everything you have to do? Or is it just making sure each day goes past, with something you enjoy, with some memories to collect and to put away?

I’ve always fallen into a state whereby I have too many things to do. Sometime ago, when I really felt stressed about taking on so many things, I was asked, is this what I really want? And I replied, yes, cos I only do things I want and like to do. Then came the question, does that mean I have to do all of them? And I didn’t know, and I still don’t.

These days, in the midst of doing everything and still trying to study for my common tests next week, I again asked myself, what is the meaning of all this? Of course, I enjoyed doing them. But to the extent of neglecting what really matters now as a student? I have always given myself this excuse that life is short, and I am thankful for each day, and I try to make each day count. Somehow, I have convinced myself that I have already walked through more than half of my life, although I still hang on to that glimmer of hope (and medication) that allows me to see a sixtieth, seventieth and eightieth birthdays. But back to my question, what is the meaning of all this? Oh, how I wished that there was a textbook on life, or a teacher on life questions, to just tell me, to just answer my question. In the show, Albom said, “it was a wonder how he [Morrie] had the answers to all the big questions, but none for my small problems”, referring to his failed relationship (which eventually evened out in the end.) And I realised, that in how Morrie had somehow solved Albom’s problems, it is also possible to find clues, in every other thing that we do, to answer questions that we have about life.

When we are born, we depend on others for survival. When we are dying, we depend on others for survival. In between, we depend even more.

When Morrie was lying in bed, having to depend on others and machines to move, eat, breathe, urinate, and every other thing, he said this line. And I couldn’t agree more. And I won’t say more.

Morrie talked about his life too, how he lost his parents, and how he held back his tears. And now, in dying, he frequently cried, when he was passionate, angry, joyed (about Mitch and Janine) and also touched. And I wanted to cry too, but I didn’t. I held back my tears. Unknowingly, I have succumbed to a stereotype that guys don’t cry, at least not in public. Or in front of others. And then I think back to all those times that I have cried, or even let my tears flow. A few times back in secondary school. The one time I remembered most was the day of Chinese results. Having found out that I became one of the last few in the level (yes, that was how good my school was) I was totally slapped in the face. I tried not to cry. I remembered how that day according to the duty roster I had to sweep the floor, and after I did that I packed my bag and walked out of the classroom. And when my relief teacher asked me what I got (he was just 3 years older than me, just completed J2 in HC, and before that DHS) I just cried. Couldn’t stop, and my classmates came to talk to me. Funny, I knew deep down how everything simply didn’t matter. And I totally knew what my classmates were talking about, but that didn’t help. Perhaps, it is the stress that I had built up for so long, and I had to let it go. I don’t know. I still cry, and I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of, even for guys, but somehow, I just don’t do it in public. I recall some time ago, I said about how musicians feel more and get hurt more than others. Probably that’s very true.

Morrie danced a lot. In his imagination of 24 hours of perfect health, he wanted to end the day with dancing with his friends.

Ah yes, this question. If you had 24 hours of perfect health, how would you spend it?

How would I spend it? I suppose…



I don’t know. I would probably spend it like any other day. How sad. Sighs.

Morrie had 2 funerals. One when he was alive, because he wanted people to sing nice songs for him before he died. He was open-minded about death, and every other thing we consider taboo to talk about. Was it really fear of the unknown that kept us from talking about these stuff? Or was it something else? ‘When you go to bed, you die.’ This line came from Morrie, to which Mitch replied, ‘well, some people use it for sleeping.’ How afraid I was to go to sleep sometimes, being afraid that I wouldn’t see the next sunrise, or the beautiful clouds, ever again. Perhaps, when one really gets knocked hard with the fact that time IS running out, one would understand.

Morrie died on a Saturday. On the very last Tuesday that he met Mitch, he taught him how to say goodbye. Perhaps he already knew that he will never meet Mitch in person again, we will never know. He held hands with Mitch, showing his love, and appreciation in being touched. And they were both in tears, and I had to swallow mine. Because in my heart, I knew too, that they would never meet again. I didn’t have to wait until the film said that they received a phone call about his death.

Will I ever get a teacher like this, to teach me the lesson on life, when he is dying?

Will I talk to anyone at all about this, when I am handed a death sentence?

I never know, until the day I die.

Pray hard, that it won’t be soon.

So, what will I do tomorrow? Something meaningful?

Probably not. I’ll be studying.

What matters to me now?

-Chee Hang
Lessons learnt.