The music was loud and the lights were dim. George was dancing like there was no tomorrow. Wearing a long smile on his face, he was moving his hips slowly and carefully. He didn’t want to aggravate his back pain. For a 70-year-old, however, he was dancing just fine.
George’s wife was there too, along with their son, daughter-in-law, and their precious little 6-year-old grand-daughter. Everyone was doing their best to match George’s energy levels, spinning and twirling to the rhythms of pop music. Especially the little one. She didn’t care about what was happening around her. After all, the music was on and the dance floor was buzzing with tapping feet.
“George, let’s call it a day,” his wife, Sarah said. “You are not 20 anymore, and you need rest.”
“Yes dad, you should rest,” John said concernedly.
“I have told you guys already, If I am going to die, I’d die doing things I love, like dancing and travelling. I want to live every moment while I can,” George said smilingly, looking at both, his wife and son.
“Oh, George!” Sarah let out a soft moan and began to cry. Suddenly, the joyous atmosphere in the room transformed into sorrow. It was time to face the reality.
“The doctors gave me two months to live. But for me, they are 60 days. I want to cherish them all with my family,” George muttered while looking at the floor, trying to conceal his emotions.
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