Tuesday’s with Morrie: An Old Man, A Young Man, and Life’s Greatest Lesson

Albom puts lotion on Morrie’s feet and massages them. This helps relieve Morrie’s pain, makes him happy because of the human touch, and gives Albom a sense of connection to his teacher.

Albom asks about forgiveness. Morrie tells of an old friend with whom he was close for years. The friend moved away, and when Charlotte needed an operation, the friend never called to ask after her. Hurt, Morrie ended the friendship. The friend later tried to explain, but Morrie refused to accept it: “I was prideful. I shrugged him off” (184). The friend later died of cancer, and Morrie regrets tearfully that they never reconciled.

Morrie believes we must not only forgive others but forgive ourselves as well, especially for the things we failed to do. We must do so before it’s too late. Morrie feels lucky that he has the time left to him to set things right. He confesses that, were he to have had another son, he’d want it to be Albom.

Morrie plans to be buried under a hillside tree with a view of a pond. He asks Albom if he’ll visit the gravesite and tell Morrie his problems. Albom says he will, always on a Tuesday. 

Morrie tells the rabbi who will conduct the funeral that he wants to be cremated as long as they don’t overcook him. Morrie’s little joke bespeaks his letting go of his useless and withered body.

Albom hates seeing Morrie’s helplessness, the tube up his nose, and his hacking coughs that grow worse. Morrie had a bad night recently and thought he might not make it; suddenly, he accepted death and was ready for it and able to move on. The feeling was “incredible.” He thinks making peace with dying enables people to do something even harder: “Make peace with living” (191). People see themselves as outside of, and above, nature, and this makes difficult reckoning with death. Once accomplished, though, people can realize that they live on in the hearts of the people they love: “Death ends a life, not a relationship” (192).

Albom asks what Morrie would do if a magic wand gave him back his body and life. Morrie answers that he wouldn’t be the same person, that his illness changed his attitudes toward his body and toward the big questions in life.

Albom wonders what Morrie would do if he had one perfect day he could live. Morrie says he’d exercise, have a nice breakfast, go for a swim, have friends over for lunch to talk about their families and issues, walk in a garden, share dinner out with friends, dance for hours, and sleep deeply.

Morrie mentions Albom’s brother, Peter, who’s been undergoing treatments for cancer and who refuses to see Albom or return his calls. Morrie says that people have different needs and must negotiate their relationships with that in mind, and with compassion for the other person even if they pull away. Morrie says he knows Albom will find his way back to Peter because Albom found his way back to Morrie.

Morrie relates a story about a wave on the ocean, enjoying itself until it sees the shore, where other waves are crashing, and it becomes distraught that it will die there, too. Another wave says, “You’re not a wave, you’re part of the ocean” (198). 

Morrie has weakened greatly. Albom visits him in his bedroom, where he lies, his body as small as a child’s. Albom takes his hands and admits he doesn’t know how to say goodbye; Morrie pats his hand and says that this is how. He says Albom is a good soul and that he loves him; Albom replies that he loves Morrie, too. Albom hugs him for a long time; when he finally pulls back, he has tears. Morrie smiles, and Albom thinks it’s because his old teacher finally got him to cry. 

Morrie falls into a coma two days later; his immediate family is there keeping watch. On Saturday, just as they all leave for a moment to grab some coffee, Morrie dies. Albom believes Morrie wanted it that way: “no chilling moments, no one to witness his last breath and be haunted by it, the way he had been haunted by his mother’s death-notice telegram or by his father’s corpse in the city morgue” (205-6).

The funeral is held on a rainy day on the hillside Morrie wanted. Though hundreds wanted to be there, only a few close friends and family attend the service. Morrie’s brother, David, shovels a spade of dirt onto the ashes in the grave. Albom remembers Morrie’s request that he visit and talk; in his mind, he finds it easy to do so. Then he realizes why: it’s a Tuesday. 

Albom wishes he could talk to his younger self and urge him to pay more attention to others, and especially to visit his favorite teacher before he is too sick to dance. He reaches Peter by phone, acknowledges that Peter is entitled to some distance, and admits for the first time that he doesn’t want to lose his only brother. Some days later, Albom receives a fax from Peter with updates and an offer to continue their chats.

The book was mainly Morrie’s idea, and he thought up the title. He lived to see Albom receive an advance payment on it. The payment helped pay Morrie’s medical bills, a relief to both of them. The book sums up the lessons of Morrie’s final class, an instruction that somehow doesn’t stop with the work’s publication: “The teaching goes on” (210). 

Albom visits Morrie’s grave many times over the years. The most recent visit takes place a week before this Afterword is written. Kneeling by the grave, Albom realizes he’s closer to Morrie’s age than to his own during their Tuesday meetings.

Morrie would be pleased to know that, far from being forgotten, he is much better known today than ever during his life. Tuesdays with Morrie appears in school curricula, and a play version and TV adaptation have made his wisdom available to yet more people.

Most people are forgotten after two or three generations. Morrie’s memory lives on because he gave to others instead of taking. People visited him during his final illness hoping to cheer him up, but instead, Morrie got them to talk about themselves and their problems, and they’d leave in tears, having shared themselves and learned deep truths about their own lives. Morrie liked to say, “Giving is living” (210).

His lessons have sunk into Albom, who has gotten more involved in his community and in charity work. He took in a five-year-old Haitian cancer patient, who lives with him and Janine, and to whom he has become a Morrie of sorts.

Morrie’s teaching, and his wisdom, lives on, connecting all who listen, and who become, not separate waves, but part of the ocean itself.