Milton

A week ago, I met a man named Milton. Milton is a 93 year old man from NYC, but he currently resides in a home in Providence, Rhode Island.

I sat with Milton for about 45 minutes after I left my group that had been playing games with severe Alzheimer's patients.

Milton grew up in New York City with two siblings: a brother and a sister. His parents did not take care of them so well and played favorites. Gradually, the siblings grew distant and for many years have been uncommunicative.

While raising his three children with his wife, Milton was a school teacher in an all-black school in NYC. He proudly taught in the impoverished schools during the 1950's and 1960's, despite many death threats.

Anyway, Milton's wife died two years ago this December. He lives all alone in the retirement home in Providence, and he rarely sees his children, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren.

I know it is very cliche, but Milton showed me something that I would not have seen until I become a doctor. He showed me that people die alone, no matter how big a family or how much money you make.

All that matters are the sum of the little things in life. The parties you go to, the kisses you have, the fun times you have. Because in the end, you are only going to remember the highlight or average of these events and those will be the only things that keep you company when you die.