In 'Curtain: Poirot's Last Case' Agatha Christie has a physically weak and worn Poirot. For those of us who adore the little Belgian, it is hard to see him as he is portrayed here. The 'little gray cells' though, are as sharp as ever - sharper, maybe, to counteract his physical condition.
Hastings is devastated when he learns that Poirot does not have many days left. But here he is, assisting Poirot on his last case...A dear and loyal friend, if ever there was one...and much loved by Poirot.
Poirot, incidentally, is not mooning around or feeling sorry for himself that he has only a few days left, and is living life exactly the way he has always lived it - no compromises on style at all...or anything, as a matter of fact...
One of the characters in the book, greatly impressed by Poirot, discusses with Hastings, the rich life Poirot has had - doing what he loved and what he was so good at. In Hasting's words: 'He seemed to think that a lifetime spent as Poirot's had been was in itself a rich reward and that in his memories my friend could find satisfaction and self-respect.'
I couldn't help thinking - how often we, who are of a certain age, especially, travel back in time sighing over happy memories and reliving them, and feeling most sorry for ourselves about the sad-bad memories and missing-regretting them. I've also heard these - there are so many memories crowding the mind; I live in a world of memories- what else is there; my memories are such a burden; and other statements in a like vein.
What a wonderful thing to think of memories like this.....how much more refreshing and how much more stimulating...to look back with satisfaction on what you have been able to do....even if it's maybe just maybe one thing (never mind that - in fact there are bound to be many things!),....and draw a sense of self-respect from that to live life to the full to the last breath...