What we leave behind

Hip, Hip, Hurra, 1888 Public domain, Image via Wikipedia

Today would have been my father-in-law’s 100th birthday.

Here’s to you, Paul!

It makes me think about my life. Will I make it to 100? If not, will there be anyone who will remember me and lift a glass to me on my 100th?

My only wish if I were to make it to 100 is that I be aware enough to celebrate it, and be healthy enough to raise a glass.

If not, then go ahead without me and raise the glass to my memory. I’d prefer that.

My f-i-l died at age 86. He outlived his wife by over a decade.  Although he struggled with diabetes and high blood pressure, he worked to keep his weight down and stayed relatively active. He died one morning sitting in the chair next to the bed while he was putting on his socks.

He was still living in the home that he and my mother-in-law had designed and built in the early 1980’s, a modern loft-style home with many stairs.

It’s now been 13 years since his death.

His grandchildren remember him. His great-grandchildren never met him.

So in one generation there will be no one left in the world who knew him. There will only be stories, no direct memories.

And in one more generation, that will be true for me as well, and that’s if I am lucky.

The granddaughters’ memories have not yet become fixed. If something were to happen to me tomorrow, they would not have any memories of me at all, unless the oldest had a foggy recollection of her Ga.

Merle and his brother spend hours talking about their family history, trying to figure out what this person was thinking when he quit his job, or why their grandfather married their grandmother, an older woman. All of the answers to their questions are gone with the generations before them.

When those in the future hear about me, I want to know what they will be told. “She went to law school at night, had a day job, and children at home”, “She and grandpa were always short on money, but we never realized it, because we never wanted for anything”, “She was taller than grandpa, but he didn’t care. She had more schooling than grandpa-he supported her all the way”, “She was good at her job and she was a good mom”, “Back then, women were still doing most of the work on the job and at home, but she and grandpa shared almost everything’.

Sorry, I probably won’t be leaving behind anything of much financial value. No cash, no big investments, no family heirlooms.

The legacy I hope to leave:

“She really loved all of us”

.

Because in the end, nothing could be better than that.

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