My Last Day is a story and needs your emotions…
The sun was setting, casting a warm, orange glow over the park as I jogged through the crowded trail. People were everywhere—running, chatting, laughing. But as I slowed down to catch my breath, I noticed something that didn’t fit. On a bench, tucked away near some bushes, sat an old man. His face was turned toward the sky, but it wasn’t the sunset he was admiring. Tears were streaming down his face, silent but constant.
I hesitated, unsure of whether I should approach him. I mean, he was a stranger, and the park was full of people. Someone else might see him and help, right? But something pulled me toward him. Maybe it was the way he sat there, completely alone in the middle of all this noise, or maybe it was the fact that I’d never seen anyone look that sad before.
I walked up slowly and sat on the bench beside him. He didn’t notice me at first, still lost in whatever pain was causing those tears.
“Sir, are you okay?” I asked, trying to keep my voice soft.
He didn’t respond. For a moment, I thought I’d made a mistake—that maybe I should just leave him alone. But then, after a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice raspy and low.
“I’m sorry, lad,” he said, not even looking at me. “Didn’t mean to bother anyone with this.”
I shook my head. “You’re not bothering me. Sometimes talking helps.”
He gave a small, bitter laugh, though it was more like a cough. “Talking…” He trailed off, and for a moment, I thought that was all he was going to say. But then he sighed, deeply, and turned to look at me with those tired, red-rimmed eyes.
“My name’s Raghu,” he said. “Used to come to this park all the time, years ago, with my family. My wife, my kids. It was different back then—happier.”
I could hear the weight of the words in his voice, and I didn’t interrupt. I just let him talk.
“My wife passed away five years ago,” he continued. “And ever since… well, everything’s changed. My children—they used to be my pride, you know? But after she died, it’s like I became invisible to them.”
His hands shook as he clasped them in his lap. “My two sons, they visit sometimes, but only when they need something. Money, usually. My daughter… well, she moved abroad. Hardly hear from her at all unless I call first. It’s like they forgot I exist.”
He paused, his gaze drifting away again, as if the memories were too heavy to hold onto for long.
“I’ve been living with my eldest son and his wife these past few months,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s clear I’m not wanted. My daughter-in-law hardly speaks to me. My son’s always too busy. They treat me like I’m in the way, like I’m just… taking up space.”
I didn’t know what to say. How could someone’s family treat them like that? It didn’t make sense to me. But I stayed quiet, letting him get it all out.
“Last night,” Raghu continued, his voice cracking, “I overheard them talking when they thought I was asleep. My daughter-in-law said, ‘How much longer do you think he’ll be around? We could use the room.’ And my son… he didn’t disagree.”
He stopped for a moment, struggling to keep his composure. I felt my stomach drop. I couldn’t imagine how painful it must have been to hear that.
“I stayed awake all night,” he whispered. “Just thinking. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’ve outlived my welcome here. I’m old, tired. My body’s giving up, and so’s my heart. What’s left for me, anyway? When would I see my last day”
My throat tightened hearing something like “my last day”, but I forced myself to speak. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
He looked at me, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I? Look at me, lad. I’m alone, unwanted, a burden to my own children and praying for my last day. What’s left for a man like me?”
I couldn’t just let him sit there and believe that. “You’re not a burden,” I said, more forcefully than I intended. “You raised them, didn’t you? You gave everything for them. That’s not something they can just throw away. Even if they don’t see it now, it doesn’t make you any less valuable.”
He stared at me, his watery eyes searching mine, as if trying to understand why a stranger cared.
“You’ve lived your life with love and sacrifice,” I continued, feeling my chest tighten. “Just because they’ve forgotten that, it doesn’t mean your life doesn’t matter. You’ve got stories, wisdom. You still have things to offer, even if they can’t see it.”
Raghu’s lip quivered, and for a second, I thought he might start crying again. But instead, he just nodded, slowly.
“Maybe,” he whispered. “But it’s hard, lad. Hard to keep going when the people you love most don’t seem to want you around anymore. I am hoping that they are not praying for my last day”
I nodded, understanding a little better now. “It’s hard, yeah. But maybe you can find your own way. You came here today, didn’t you? To remember better times. Why not come back again tomorrow? Watch the sunset. Do something for yourself.”
For a long while, Raghu didn’t say anything. He just stared at the horizon as the last light of the day began to fade. The park was still full of people, but it felt like we were the only two there, sitting in that small bubble of silence, praying for something similar to “my last day.
“Thank you,” he finally said, his voice steadier than before. “I thought today would be my last day, but maybe… maybe it doesn’t have to be.”
I smiled, relieved to hear a note of hope in his voice. “It doesn’t,” I said. “Not if you don’t want it to be.”
And as we sat there, watching the day turn to dusk, I realized something important. Even when life feels like it’s falling apart, a small act of kindness, a moment of connection, can make all the difference. Raghu may have felt for himself like “my last day” was near, but now, he had something else—a reason, however small, to keep going.
Maybe that was all any of us really needed. “My last day” is not most of us wish to see, but somehow, this is not the truth.
