Live Each Day Like It’s Our Last

A couple of days ago, a girlfriend called to tell me that an acquaintance of mine, who’s also her business associate, passed away in his sleep the night before. He’s my age, just got married and was rapidly moving up the corporate ladder. My girlfriend then went on to tell me that a few months ago, she got a shock when she found out that a girlfriend of hers suddenly died too. Except that for this case, her friend had cancer but didn’t disclose this to anyone other than her family. This friend of hers was apparently very affluent and married with beautiful children and a loving husband. My girlfriend finally concluded the conversation with a statement, “these people have very ‘pai miah’ (tough/hard life) hor?”

So I guess if our lives were suddenly interrupted by illnesses that required hospitalisation, surgery or long-term treatments, we’d think that our quality of life would cease to exist. So I would also suppose that having undergone a rather traumatic surgery 2 years ago to treat a recurring medical condition, and subsequently having to visit the hospital once every 4 to 6 months for check-ups that are extremely dreadful and uncomfortable, would mean my life as being ‘pai miah’? Maybe I should start indulging in self-pity and cry now?

It bugs me sometimes when people these days still have such a secular perspective of what constitutes to a good life.

If that acquaintance of mine who had passed on in his sleep had been a loving husband to his new wife, a caring and filial son to his parents, a supportive brother to his sibling(s) and a sincere and true friend to his peers, I’d say there’s nothing tough or hard about his life. He had simply appreciated everything that he had and had led a full life.

Similarly, if my girlfriend’s friend had always taken everything for granted because of her extravagant lifestyle before she was diagnosed with cancer and since then turned her life around to be grateful for the smallest and simplest things in her life, I’d say she’s more fortunate than most of us because she would have edified at least one person in her life to appreciate the true spirit of life beyond superficial beauty, popularity or status.

So instead of having to wait for a misfortunate to strike us or the pre-mature demise of a loved one or someone within our social circle before we’re able to value the essence of life, why don’t we now live each day like it’s our last? What would we have done differently if today’s our last? Would we have been rude to our nagging mothers before we left home this morning? Would we have cursed at a road hog under our breaths? Would we have shouted at a supplier for making a late delivery? Would we have bitched about how incompetent a colleague was to another colleague? Were our last words to our spouses this morning “I’m gonna be working late tonight, so don’t wait up for me.”? Is this how we want to live the last day of our lives? I hope not.

Still in Love After 77 Valentine's Days

Tue Feb 14, 6:11 PM ET-Associated Press

SALEM, Ore. - Fred Landis has a Valentine's Day ritual. Sometime, somewhere, he'll lean over to his wife, Gwen, and say, "I love you." They say he's been doing that on Valentine's Days since 1928, when they were married.

In October, Fred, 102, and Gwen, 101, celebrated their 77th wedding anniversary, and they are not far shy of a record. The longest current marriage, according to the 2006 edition of Guinness World Records, is 78 years, 296 days.

On Valentine's Day 2006, Fred will say "I love you" a bit louder than he used to because Gwen is hard of hearing. Fred has macular degeneration, which has kept him from writing poetry for her.

Gwen says Fred wrote poems to her during their courtship, a gesture that may have won her heart."I think that had something to do with it," she said with a shy smile.

They met in 1924 as college students, he at Albany College and she at Simpson Bible College in Seattle. Fred attended a church where Gwen's father was the pastor. When they were married, Gwen's father performed the ceremony.

Gwen remembers receiving $800 for a wedding gift, then losing it all in the stock-market crash the following year.

The Landises spent the next four decades working in ministry and raising four children. Fred was the pastor at several small churches in the Northwest. Gwen played the piano and organ and taught Sunday school.

He retired in 1970, and they have lived in Salem since then. They moved to a retirement center in 1994.

"They're just wonderful people. You couldn't find any better," says a friend, Dorothea McAuley. "They're setting an example for everybody. They're always happy. I've never seen one of them angry. They're God's example.

"Commitment is the word Gwen uses to describe their marriage success. Fred agrees."Sure, we've had squabbles and disagreements galore," he said. "But there's a commitment to marriage because we have a reverence to it."

They have eight grandchildren and 19 great-grandchildren.

Son John, 67, says he continues to be amazed by his parents, their relationship and their lives."I think - I know - they would not have lived this long singly," John says. "They keep each other going."