An elder and a teenager sat across from each other in a dim room.
“Tell me,” said the elder as she leant forward, the question forming on the tip of her tongue. “Who had everything in life when they passed away?” she paused and braced one hand on her cane, the other on her chair. “The poor man, who did not own a cent, but had a huge, loving family? Or the man, with no family at all, but billions and billions of dollars to spend?” She raised a curved, white eyebrow at him.
“The rich man, of course,” the teenager replied absently.
The old woman slowly shook her head. “Tell me then, what does money mean to you?”
“Cars... And a big house. And to do whatever you want, go wherever you want, buy whatever you want. It is everything.” The teenager’s eyes shone in hunger. Hunger to earn. To spend.
She shook her head again, this time in disappointment. The teenager’s brows drew together in confusion. She replied gently. “You have much to learn. Money is not everything. Money is, simply, paper, my dear,” the old woman’s eyes glistened. “Money will not go with you when you die. It serves no purpose. Money does not breathe. It does not hug, kiss or love. It simply exists. However, your family is forever, and forever you will have your family. So, I will ask again: Which man had everything in life when he passed away?”
“The rich man...” there was silence for a long while. The old woman’s head bowed in disappointment.
“The rich man...” the teenager continued, scratching his head. “Who had not wealth in gold and silver, but wealth in love. Wealth in family. He is the one who had everything.”
“Good,” the old woman said as she nodded her approval. The teenager’s eyes lit up. “The one who seems to have nothing, has everything. Tis the irony of Life.”