Chapter 23 12th Tuesday Forgiveness

Forgive yourself before you die, and then forgive others. This is a few days after the Nightline interview.The sky was dark and rainy, and Murray was wrapped in felt.I sat at the end of his recliner, holding his bare feet, his skin rough and tangled, his toenails yellow.I squeezed some ointment from a small bottle of ointment on my hands and started massaging his ankles. I had watched the nurse massage him like this for months, and now I felt that time was running out, so I volunteered to do it, to get as close to him as possible.Murray has been so sick that he can't even move his toes, but he still feels pain, and massage can help him relieve some of the pain.Of course, Murray liked being touched, too, and at this stage, I'd do anything to make him happy.

Mitch, he continued on the topic of forgiveness: what good is it in holding a grudge or being stubborn?These things he sighed. I really regret these things in my life.Arrogance, vanity.Why do we do these things? The importance of forgiveness, is the question I pose.I have seen some movies. In the film, when the head of the family is dying on the sick bed, he will call a son who is estranged from him, and the father and son will reconcile, so that he can go away with peace of mind.I was wondering if Murray would have the same situation, and suddenly felt the need to say I'm sorry to someone before he died?

Murray nodded.do you see that statueHis head was turned sideways, and there was a bust of a head high up on a bookshelf at the other end of his study.I never really noticed it before.It was a bronze man of about forty years of age, with a bow tie and a lock of hair brushing his forehead. The portrait is me, Murray said: a friend of mine carved it about thirty years ago.His name is Norman.We used to spend a lot of time together.We swam together and rode to New York together.He often asked me to go to his home in Cambridge, and he made the statue in the basement of his home.It took him weeks of work, but he took it very seriously.

I looked at it carefully.It was odd to see Murray's stereo head looking down at us, looking so healthy and so young.The bronze statue also has his witty and narrow expression. Obviously, this friend has captured some of Murray's spirit. Only later was a pity, Murray said: Norman and his wife moved to Chicago.Not long after, my wife had a pretty serious operation.The Normans have not contacted us.I knew they knew about her surgery, and Charlotte and I were upset because they didn't call to ask how she was doing.So we broke off. The few times I ran into Norman over the next few years, he tried to make up, but I wouldn't.I'm not satisfied with his explanation, I'm full of arrogance, I don't take him seriously.

His voice choked. Mitch died of cancer a few years ago.I am very depressed.I didn't even go to see him.I failed to forgive.It makes me sad to think about it He cried again, sobbing silently, and as his head was thrown back, tears rolled down his cheeks and onto his lips. I said, sorry to hear such a thing. Don't worry, he said softly: it's okay to shed tears. I continued massaging his lifeless toes.He wept for a few minutes, lost in the memory. Mitch, we don't just have to forgive others, he whispered at the end: We have to forgive ourselves too. forgive yourself? Yes, forgive yourself for what you didn't do, forgive yourself for what you should have done.You can't spend your whole life regretting something.When you get to my age, you'll know it won't work.

I always wish I could do a better job, always wish I could write more books.I used to hate this a lot.Now I know there is no benefit in this way.Make peace with yourself and with everyone around you. I leaned forward and wiped the tears off his face with a tissue.Murray blinked, then closed.His breathing was clearly audible, like a light snoring. Forgive yourself, forgive others.Mitch, don't delay.Not everyone has this period like I do, not everyone is so lucky. I threw the wiped tissue in the trash and went back to Murray's feet.Lucky?I pressed my thumb so hard on his stiff muscle that he didn't even feel it.

Mickey, Clash of Opposites, remember?Are you being pulled by different forces? I remember. I lament the few days I have left, but I also cherish the opportunity to make things right. We sat in silence for a while, listening to the rain beating on the windows.The pot of hibiscus behind his head is still blooming, delicate but full of vitality. Murray said softly: Mitch. uh-huh? I was preoccupied with massaging his toes with my fingers. look at me. I looked up, and his eyes were piercing. I don't know why you come back to me, but I want to say this He paused, his voice choked up.

If I could have another son, I hope it will be you. I lowered my eyes and pinched his lifeless toes with my fingers.For a moment I felt a little apprehensive, as if I would be disrespecting my own father if I accepted his words.But when I looked up again, I saw Murray smiling with tears in my eyes, and I knew there was no disrespect at a time like this. The only thing I'm afraid of is the moment of saying goodbye. ◇◇◇ I chose the cemetery. Where? Not far from here.On a hillside, under a tree, overlooking a pond.Very quiet and peaceful, a good place to think about things. Are you going to think about things there?

I intend to rest there. He giggled, and I giggled, too. will you come to see me? To see him? Just to chat.Remember to come on Tuesday.You come on Tuesdays. We are Tuesday mates. Yes, Tuesday mate.Then you will come to talk? His physical decline was rapid and horrific. He said: look at me. I am watching. Will you come to my grave?Tell me about your troubles? My distress? right. Then you will answer? I try my best.Haven't I always been like this? I imagined his resting place, on the hillside overlooking the pond, where he lay buried under a square of two or three meters of dirt, with a headstone.Maybe in a few weeks?Maybe in a few days?I saw myself sitting there by myself, with my hands on my knees, looking at the sky.

I said, that would be different, not being able to hear you. ah, talk He closed his eyes and smiled. Let's put it this way.When I die, you speak and I listen.