I finished Tuesdays with Morrie on a Tuesday. That feels meaningful to me.

I did not expect the book to affect me this much. I usually avoid stories about sickness because my childhood was filled with hospital visits. I accompanied my grandmother almost every day. Waiting rooms, hospital beds, quiet corridors. Illness feels familiar to me, but it is also heavy. It carries memories I do not always want to revisit, especially when I am busy and trying to stay strong.

But this book felt different. After long days, I found myself looking forward to reading it. It felt calm and intimate like I’m sitting peacefully with someone who speaks gently but truthfully. Then the last chapters came, and they wrecked me.

Just as Morrie’s family and Mitch did not witness his last breath, I witnessed my grandmother’s. My head was resting on her lap. I remember her final breath. It did not disturb me though. Maybe I was too young to understand what it meant. After that, I even lay down again with my head still on her lap. It felt normal to me then. Looking back now, I realize how sacred that moment was… 🍃

What struck me the most in the book was vulnerability. This idea of allowing someone to truly see me. Allowing myself to be helped and allowing myself to show affection without fear. I realized how high my walls are. But I built them because of disappointments. The walls protect me, yes, then I realized they also keep me distant.

I saw parts of myself in Mitch. I stay busy. I focus on work. I try to remain composed. It is easier to function than to feel. It is easier to achieve than to be exposed.

The book also made me reflect on regret. Many people say they have no regrets because everything taught them lessons. I cannot fully agree. I regret some things. I regret mistakes I made. I regret moments when I should have acted differently. Admitting regret feels humbling. It means I acknowledge that I could have done better. It means I am still learning.

This book reminded me that learning how to die is also learning how to live. It reminded me that love requires presence. That vulnerability is not weakness. That being honest about fear, loss, and regret is part of being human.

Amusing fact: I finished it on a Tuesday. Maybe that is not a coincidence. Ordinary days can carry deep truths as well, eh? And maybe I am learning, slowly, how to live a little more openly than before.