Recovery — This Alcoholic Lives Like He’s Dying — Glenn D., Orlando

I knew a man . . . He was tired of living. He was poor and uneducated, had done wrong and had been done wrong. He was physically ill, and sad. He said to himself, “I know its wrong, but tonight I die. How old does a man have to get, anyway? And what difference does it make after all? I’m not a brain surgeon. I will hardly be missed.” So? He went out that day, the last day of his life, and he drank up the sunshine. He smiled “hello” as he passed people on the street, and they smiled back. And if they didn’t? He didn’t care, because that didn’t matter; it was his last day, anyway. He felt the burden of living and making a living fall off his shoulders and heart. He said, “It might be one more sin, but, Father, I’m coming to you.” The children were polite and good-looking and the old people weren’t quite so incapacitated. The sky was bright, the birds sang sweetly and everything he saw or experienced was wonderful… because THAT night he was dying, done. He went home, and as he thought of his plan he had a revelation. “I don’t have to kill myself. I just have to LIVE like I’m dying.” I knew this man . . . He still lives today. And when life gets him down, he will tell you, “I just live like I’m dying, and if life gets you down? . . . Live like it’s the last day of your life!”