Tuesdays with Morrie

by Mitch Albom

A thousand miles away, in my house on the hill, I was casually flipping channels. I heard these words from the TV set—“Who is Morrie Schwartz?”—and went numb.

I saw this image of Morrie and my jaw dropped because there on the screen was this thin, sickly, white haired looking version of my old professor, this man I cared so much about. And now he only had a few months left to live. And I'd wasted all that time. It was hard to see.