Take a fresh look at your lifestyle.

This Was Written By An 83-Year-Old Woman To Her Friend. The Last Line Says It All.

An 83-year-old woman wrote a letter concerning life to her friend, the final line will make you tear up.

Dear Bertha:

I’m reading more and dusting less. I’m sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. I’m spending more time with my family and friends and less time working. Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. I’m trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them.

I’m not “saving” anything; we use our good China and crystal for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom. I wear my good blazer to the market. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries.

I’m not saving my good perfume for special parties, but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank. Someday” and “one of these days” are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it’s worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now.

I’m not sure what others would’ve done had they known they wouldn’t be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. They might have called a
few former friends to apologize and mend fences for past squabbles. I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was. I’m guessing; I’ll never know.

It’s those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited. Angry because I hadn’t written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. Angry and sorry that I didn’t tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. I’m trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes, tell myself that it is special. Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.

If you received this, it is because someone cares for you. If you’re too busy to take the few minutes that it takes right now to forward this, would it be the first time you didn’t do the little thing that would make a difference in your relationships? I can tell you it certainly won’t be the last.

Take a few minutes to send this to a few people you care about, just to let them know that you’re thinking of them. People say “True friends must always hold hands, but true friends don’t need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there.” I don’t believe in Miracles. I rely on them.

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance.

Source: http://en.goodtimes.my

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See more: Grandparents Never Die, They Become Invisible… Everyone Must Read This, It’s Heartwarming!

Grandparents never die, they become invisible and they sleep forever deep in our heart. And even today, we miss them and we would give anything to hear their stories, to feel their caresses and look at those eyes full of infinite tenderness.

While grandparents have the joy to see us being born and growing, as a fact of life, we must witness how they age and say goodbye to this world. The death of a grandparent is usually the first farewell that we will have to face in our childhood.

Grandparents, who assume the active role of raising their grandchildren, leave traces in their spirits, legacies that will accompany them for life as seeds of everlasting love during the days when they become invisible.

Nowadays it is very common to see grandparents participating in raising their grandchildren. They represent an invaluable support network in today’s families. Children however sense very well that the role of grandparents is different from that of their parents.

It is common that grandparents and grandchildren develop a very special, a deep and intimate bond, so the loss of the grandparents can be very shocking and delicate in the personality of a child or adolescent. We wish to reflect on this subject with you.

Saying good bye to Grandparents: the first experience dealing with loss

For some of us who have reached adulthood having our grandparents by our side,we have been truly privileged, however others, had to face their death when they were still in the early childhood, when children still don’t understand a loss like this in all the magnitude. Commonly adults are not able to fully explain what happened and try to soften the death as if it “does not hurt”.

Adults should explain things clearly to their children and they should tell them the truth, this is the advice of Psych pedagogues. Of course it’s necessary to know how to adapt the news according their age. One must, however, avoid making the mistake of many parents in preventing a last farewell of the child with his grandfather in the hospital, or beat around the bush with metaphors such as that “the grandfather is in a star or he is sleeping in the sky”.

  • We must help the child understand death simply and without metaphors so that misconceptions are not formed. If we tell it that the grandfather has left, it is likely that the child’s question is, when he will return.
  • If we are trying to explain to the child the death from a religious perspective it is necessary to emphasize in the fact that the deceased is not going to “come back”. The explanations must be very brief, simple and to the point, remember that a young mind can only absorb limited amounts of information.
  • It is also important that adults don’t hide their feelings and tears before the eyes of children. We must teach them that death is not taboo. It is necessary to vent ourselves for the loss of a loved one, we should suffer and we speak of it freely. Children will do it at the right time and when they get a better understanding of such unfortunate events, meanwhile we must be their facilitators.
  • We have to be attentive to the fact that children will ask us many questions and these requests require of intelligent and precise answers. The loss of grandparents in childhood or adolescence will always be a very complex matter, and the best thing to do at this moment is to grieve with the whole family and be very careful to any question or needs of your children.

Even if they are not, they are very present

  • Even if they are not, grandparents are always in our lives, in those common locations we share with our family and even in the oral heritage we offer to the new generations. To new grandchildren or great-grandchildren who were not able to meet grandfather or grandmother.
  • Grandparents held our hands during the times while they taught us how to walk, but then, what they held forever were our hearts, where they will reside eternally giving us their light and their memory.
  • The grandfather’s presence is in those yellowed photos that are in a frame and not in the mobile memory. The grandfather is present in the tree that he once sowed with his own hands or in the dress that we still keep and that grandmother sewed it.
  • They are still present in the smells of cakes that remain in our emotional memory. Their memory is also in each of the wise advice we received from them, in the stories they shared with us, in the way we make the knots of our shoes and even in that dimple in the chin that we inherited from them.
  • Grandparents are present in our feelings in a deep and delicate mode. They never die, they are more than simple genetics. They show us how to walk at their own pace, a little slower, how to enjoy an afternoon in the country, to learn that a good book has a different and special smell, because they have a language that goes beyond words.
  • It is a hug language, a gentle caress, a complicit smile and an afternoon walk sharing in silence as we watch the sunset. All of this will last forever and here is where real eternity of people takes place.
    In the affectionate heritage of those who really love us and who honor us by remembering us every day.

Source: http://fullyawaremind.com

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See also: She Discovered This Poem Her Mom Had Written To Her Army Dad, Titled “But You Didn’t”.

Remember the day, I borrowed your brand new car and dented it?

I thought you’d kill me,

But you didn’t.

Remember the day, I vomited strawberry pie all over your new carpet?

I thought you’d hate me,

But you didn’t.

Remember that day, I dragged you to the beach, and it really was raining as you said it would?

I thought you’d say, “I told you so!”,

But you didn’t.

Remember that day, I flirted with all the guys to make you jealous, and you really get jealous?

I thought you’d leave me,

But you didn’t.

Remember that day, I forgot to tell you that dance was a formal wear, and you ended up wearing jeans?

I thought you’d abandon me,

But you didn’t.

Yes, there were lots of things you didn’t do,

but you put up with me,

loved me,

protected me.

There were lots and lots of things I wanted to make up to you, when you returned from Vietnam,

But you didn’t.

The author of this ‘heart-breaking’ poem was an ordinary American woman, whose husband was drafted into the army and went to the battlefields of Vietnam when their daughter was four years old. From that point on, she and daughter only had each other.

Later, her husband died on the battlefield. She was widowed until she died of old age.

When her daughter was organizing her remains, she discovered this poem her mother had written to her father back then, titled “But you didn’t”.

Source: http://www.geekfill.com

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See more: Respect Your Parents ( A Short Story Must Read )

We get so busy and lost in growing up, we forget that our parents are growing old too. Just like they have been there for us all their lives, it’s time for us to be there for them. Just hug them and tell them, you are always there for them. Give them your love, care and respect, the 3 thing any person of any age wants in his life.

Here’s the heart touching story about mother & son.

After his father’s death, the Son decided to leave his mother at an old age home and visited her on and off.

Once he received a call from the old age home… “Your mom is very serious please come and visit her.” So the son went and saw that his mom was very critical and on her dying bed.

He asked: Mom what can I do for you.

Mom replied : “Please install fans in the old age home, as there are none. Also put a fridge for betterment of food because many times I slept without food”.

The son was surprised and asked : Mom, while you were here you never complained, but now you have few hours left and you are telling me all this, why?

Mom replied : “It’s OK dear, I’ve managed with the heat, hunger pain, but when your children will send you here, I am afraid you will not be able to manage.!

“Love your parents and treat them with loving care for you will only know their value when you see their empty chair…”

Source: hangover-cure.co.uk

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See also: 

Always Respect Your Parents

An 80 year old man was sitting on the sofa in his house along with his 45 years old highly educated son. Suddenly a crow perched on their window.

The Father asked his Son, “What is this?” The Son replied “It is a crow”. After a few minutes, the Father asked his Son the 2nd time, “What is this?” The Son said “Father, I have just now told you “It’s a crow”. After a little while, the old Father again asked his Son the 3rd time, What is this?”

At this time some expression of irritation was felt in the Son’s tone when he said to his Father with a rebuff. “It’s a crow, a crow”.A little after, the Father again asked his Son the 4th time, “What is this?”

This time the Son shouted at his Father, “Why do you keep asking me the same question again and again, although I have told you so many times ‘IT IS A CROW’. Are you not able to understand this?”

A little later the Father went to his room and came back with an old tattered diary, which he had maintained since his Son was born. On opening a page, he asked his Son to read that page. When the son read it, the following words were written in the diary:

“Today my little son aged three was sitting with me on the sofa, when a crow was sitting on the window. My Son asked me 23 times what it was, and I replied to him all 23 times that it was a Crow. I hugged him lovingly each time he asked me the same question again and again for 23 times. I did not at all feel irritated I rather felt affection for my innocent child”.

While the little child asked him 23 times “What is this”, the Father had felt no irritation in replying to the same question all 23 times and when today the Father asked his Son the same question just 4 times, the Son felt irritated and annoyed.

So..

If your parents attain old age, do not repulse them or look at them as a burden, but speak to them a gracious word, be cool, obedient, humble and kind to them. Be considerate to your parents.From today say this aloud, “I want to see my parents happy forever. They have cared for me ever since I was a little child. They have always showered their selfless love on me.

They crossed all mountains and valleys without seeing the storm and heat to make me a person presentable in the society today”. Say a prayer to God, “I will serve my old parents in the BEST way. I will say all good and kind words to my dear parents, no matter how they behave.

Thanks for spending your time on reading this story……

Hope YOU are forwarding this to all your friends

Source: youcantbreakme.co

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See also: 6 Years Old Girl Shocks Everyone Outside Target By Saying This To Her Mother

A little girl had been shopping with her Mom in Target. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful red haired, freckle faced image of innocence. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the earth it has no time to flow down the spout. We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Target.

We waited, some patiently, others irritated because nature messed up their hurried day. I am always mesmerized by rainfall. I got lost in the sound and sight of the heavens washing away the dirt and dust of the world. Memories of running, splashing so carefree as a child came pouring in as a welcome reprieve from the worries of my day.

The little voice was so sweet as it broke the hypnotic trance we were all caught in, “Mom, let’s run through the rain,” she said. “What?” Mom asked.

“Let’s run through the rain!” She repeated.

“No, honey. We’ll wait until it slows down a bit,” Mom replied.

This young child waited about another minute and repeated, “Mom, let’s run through the rain.”

“We’ll get soaked if we do,” Mom said.

“No, we won’t, Mom. That’s not what you said this morning,” the young girl said as she tugged at her Mom’s arm.

“This morning? When did I say we could run through the rain and not get wet?”

“Don’t you remember? When you were talking to Daddy about his cancer, you said, ‘If God can get us through this, he can get us through anything!'”

The entire crowd stopped dead silent. I swear you couldn’t hear anything but the rain. We all stood silently. No one came or left in the next few minutes. Mom paused and thought for a moment about what she would say. Now some would laugh it off and scold her for being silly. Some might even ignore what was said. But this was a moment of affirmation in a young child’s life. A time when innocent trust can be nurtured so that it will bloom into faith.

“Honey, you are absolutely right. Let’s run through the rain. If God let’s us get wet, well maybe we just needed washing,” Mom said.

Then off they ran. We all stood watching, smiling and laughing as they darted past the cars and yes, through the puddles. They held their shopping bags over their heads just in case. They got soaked. But they were followed by a few who screamed and laughed like children all the way to their cars.

And yes, I did. I ran. I got wet. I needed washing.

Circumstances or people can take away your material possessions, they can take away your money, and they can take away your health. But no one can ever take away your precious memories… So, don’t forget to make time and take opportunities to make memories every day.

I hope you still take the time to run through the rain.

 

Source: http://www.hrtwarming.com

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See more: Don’t Underestimate Anyone Because Everyone Has A Different Story!

A poor boy was in love with a rich man daughter….One day the boy proposed to her and the girl said…”Hey! Listen, your monthly salary is my daily hand expenses..How can I be involved with you..?

How could you have thought of that? I can never love you, so forget about me and get engaged to someone else OF your level”

But somehow the boy could not forget her so easily…..Some time 10 years later they stumbled into each other in a shopping mall.

The lady again said….,”Hey.. ! You! How are you? Now I’m married and do you know how much my husband’s salary is..? $15,700 per month! Can you beat that? And he is also very smart”

The guy’s eyes got wet with tears on hearing those words from the same lady….

A few seconds later, her husband came around but before the lady could say a word her husband seeing the guy, said……
“Sir you’re here and you’ve met my wife..” Then he said to his wife,”This is my boss, I’m also one of those working on his $100 million project!

And do you know a fact my dear? My boss loved a lady but he couldn’t win her heart….That’s why he has remained unmarried since.

How lucky would that lady have been, if she had married this my boss now? These days, who would love someone that much he said all these to his wife.

The lady looked in total shock but couldn’t utter a word….

Final Words:

Life is so short and it’s just like a mirror.
You can only see as much as it reflects. So don’t be too arrogant or proud by looking down on others because of their current situations.

Things get changed with time just like the weather..! Don’t underestimate anyone because everyone has a different story!

Source: sparkpeople.com

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See also: 

The Cab Ride – A Sweet Lesson on Patience

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

There was a time in my life twenty years ago when I was driving a cab for a living. It was a cowboy’s life, a gambler’s life, a life for someone who wanted no boss, constant movement, and the thrill of a dice roll every time a new passenger got into the cab.

What I didn’t count on when I took the job was that it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night shift, the car became a rolling confessional. Passengers would climb in, sit behind me in total darkness and anonymity, and tell me of their lives. We were like strangers on a train, the passengers and I, hurtling through the night, revealing intimacies we would never have dreamed of sharing during the brighter light of day.

In those hours, I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, made me laugh, and made me weep. And none of those lives touched me more than that of a woman I picked up late on a warm August night.

I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partiers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover or someone going off to an early shift at some factory in the industrial part of town.

When I arrived at the address, the building was dark except for a single light in a ground-floor window. Under these circumstances many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a short minute, and then drive away. Too many bad possibilities awaited a driver who went up to a darkened building at two-thirty in the morning.

But I had seen too many people trapped in a life of poverty who depended on the cab as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door to try to find the passenger. It might, I reasoned, be someone who needed my assistance. Would I not want a driver to do the same if my mother or father had called for a cab?

So I walked to the door and knocked.

“Just a minute,” answered a frail and elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman, somewhere in her eighties, stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like you might see in a costume shop or a Goodwill store or in a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The sound had been her dragging it across the floor.

The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

“Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. “I’d like a few moments alone. Then, if you could come back and help me? I’m not very strong.”

I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm, and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.

“It’s nothing,” I told her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.”

“Oh, you’re such a good boy,” she said. Her praise and appreciation were almost embarrassing.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?”

“It’s not the shortest way,” I answered.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.”

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

“I don’t have any family left,” she continued. “The doctor said I should go there. He says I don’t have very long.”

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. “What route would you like me to go?” I asked.

For the next two hours we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they had first been married. She made me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she would have me slow down in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.”

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a tar driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. Without waiting for me, they opened the door and began assisting the woman. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her: perhaps she had phoned them right before we left.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase up to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse.

“Nothing,” I said.

“You have to make a living,” she answered.

“There are other passengers,” I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent over and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. “You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.”

There was nothing more to say. I squeezed her hand once, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me I could hear the door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I did not pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the remainder of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten a driver who had been angry or abusive or impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run or had honked once, then driven away? What if I had been in a foul mood and had refused to engage the woman in conversation? How many other moments like that had I missed or failed to grasp?

We are so conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unawares. When that woman hugged me and said that I had brought her a moment of joy, it was possible to believe that I had been placed on earth for the sole purpose of providing her with that last ride. I do not think that I have done anything in my life that was any more important.

So sad, yet so very wonderful.

By Kent Nerburn