24 Hours Left

Mario had only 24 hours left to live. That's what he knew and that would be the way it was. Why is not important; what's important is that he had to spend his last 24 hours in as special a way as possible. He hadn't been a great guy during his life, and he wondered if he'd be able to make up for it even in the few hours he had left.

He was retired and wealthy, so he could spend his time and money any way he chose. With anyone he chose. Or all by himself, which was the decision he made.

For his last day, Mario didn't book some exotic bucket list destination for his last 24 hours. He would have loved to go to Hawai'i; had always meant to, but just never got around to it. And he'd always had a special interest in the Galapagos Islands, but it would take him a full travel day to get to either of those places. Besides, he didn't want to be casual about his last 24 hours, leisurely wasting it on tourism. If these were to be his last 24 hours, then they were very important.

He didn't visit a brothel on his last day; he didn't want his last day to center on self-pleasure and wantonness. He didn't take up smoking again, the nasty habit he had fought so hard to quit years ago. He didn't get drunk or stoned and didn't seek out or abuse any drugs. He could have done all these things but didn't.

He didn't use those last hours to be a thrill-seeker to wring out every last fluid ounce of dopamine he could. He didn't race motorcycles, skydive, or try to beat a train across the tracks.

Mario spent his last 24 hours on Earth being the best person he could. Perspective is a great motivator.

He started the day reading a marked section from his pre-selected book of the day. So inspired, he went down to skid row with a roll of twenties and just peeled them off, one at a time, to anyone who asked for spare change or help.

Next, he went to a grocery store and found a woman with a baby trying to use her food stamps to complete her purchase. When he saw her struggling, he approached the cashier and handed over his debit card and asked for an extra $50 cash out for her.

Next he walked down to the large toy store to watch the children run from item to item, each knowing they would never see any of these at home. Yet, during those last 24 hours left for Mario, those toys would arrive there by courier before the sun went down.

Mario had a simple lunch at a small eatery; it had only six tables, yet the waitress was beside herself trying to serve everyone. He ordered the soup du jour, for that would be easy and quick, as much for her as it would be for him. When she gave him the bill, he tipped her a hundred dollars.

After lunch, he went down to the high-crime district and waited. He didn't have to wait long; a woman was talking to herself, carrying a suitcase, apparently her entire world's entire belongings. He watched when she was jumped by two teenaged boys. Mario threw himself into the melee and almost got himself a broken nose for his troubles, but he squeaked by without a scratch. Even better, the woman, likewise, was uninjured and even got to keep her suitcase.

Now he did something outrageous--the only thing outrageous he would do during his last 24 hours. He went into the Jesuit church and snuck into the Confessional, where he heard Confession for an hour and forgave each and every sinner for the terrible things they had done.

When he was discovered by the real priest, he was lucky enough not to have the police called. Then he went right to Confession right there and the priest forgave him.

Next he went to the butcher and ordered a dozen filets; he carried them down to the wharf area where the bums were squatting to survive, living under an overpass. They had their pans over their trashcan fires, and Mario felt this was perfect. He began handing out the steaks.

He was tired by this time. He had had a very busy day and was ready to retire for the night of his last day to live. If this was going to be his last day on Earth, he figured he did good.

Mario, having not been a great guy during his life, did this as his way of cramming for finals. Perhaps it was too little, too late, but he figured it's never too late. He hoped he had touched the lives of those people with whom he had interacted. He wondered what it would be like the next morning for him, as his last day on Earth ended.

But he knew, really.

He would convince himself--again--that he only had 24 hours left to live so that he could go about his day doing as much good as he could.

Mario was in great health, but he vowed to live like this every single day for the rest of his life. Perspective is a great motivator, even every day.

As he drifted off that evening, he wondered how he could possibly top hearing Confession. But he would think of something.