He had imagined that his life would have been more meaningful than it has been. Now, lying on this bed, probably his last ever, he questioned every major decision he made in his life. Every one of them seemed wrong. Every single one of them.


Because of them, he had not been able to reach the richness he had envisioned for himself. He should have been one of the richest in the country, if he had kept all his visions. If he had made the right decisions. His life was financially stable, but nowhere close to what he had wanted. But also, would he have stayed the same person as he is now if he was rich? What would he use that money for? Ideally, he wanted to be charitable, but would he have been?

He had married the right person, yes. But he had wanted four kids. He got only one. In his dreams, his family would fill a kitchen table with six chairs. He didn’t like the fact that they only filled half of them. Granted, his son was the best child he could have asked for. Not one bad habit, always helpful. Was that maybe an accomplishment? If he had had four children, would he have raised them properly?

He had planned to write five books but had finished only two of them. Both had been liked by people and sold well. But it was not five. If he had written five books, would they have been as good? Maybe they would not have been. Maybe this was better for him.

Maybe all was better for him at the end.

Maybe this bed now was teaching him this lesson. Everything that happened happened for his good. Sometimes, he would have changed in a bad way. Sometimes, he would have done worse.

So, yeah, maybe all was better for him at the end.