My life is not as big as the car I drive or the mansion I live in or the jet that I might someday travel in. It is, instead, as big as the reach of my heart, as big as the smile I leave on someone else's face. As precious as the lives I touch. As kind as I am to the person who owes me nothing in return. As noble as the deed I do to the man who will never praise me for it. As significant as the difference I make to the world.
What have I done in life, if all I did was to fulfill a duty? If I have done something worthy it is that compassionate gesture for that soul who did not see my face, who does not know my name and never will. It is that hand which pats that mute animal who longed for a loving touch more than a piece of stale bread. It is the nurturing of that sapling which craved a drop of water to survive. It is the quiet blessing of that blind man who needed a helping hand. It is the gratitude of that widow who needed a shoulder to cry on. It is that sacrifice which will forever remain unsung.
For it is not public eulogies that I seek; what I seek is peace of mind. A content heart that knows its worth, knows that it has helped ease the world of a little pain. For like everything else I, too, am here for a little while. Before I know I, too, will be nothing but a memory. My material possessions will not define the life that was; it is how great a memory I become, that will.
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