Leaving a Legacy

Not great. Not grand. Just loved.

Photo by Ed Stone on Unsplash

And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying
And he said someday I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dyin'-Tim McGraw

In last week’s post, I wrote about things that make me smile—no matter what else is going on in my life. I mentioned photos or videos (or, better yet, being with them in person) of my great-nieces.

And I’ll be honest: I stumbled a little over that phrase. Great-nieces. Which, of course, makes me a great-aunt.

The girls are too young to call me anything yet. One is just five months old. The 22-month-old offers up a sweet, slightly mangled version of “Di.” When they’re older, I’ll be Auntie Di. No “great” required.

My sister is their grandmother. My dad is their great-grandfather. So why am I not a grand-aunt? Why great?

Naturally, I looked it up.

It turns out both “great-aunt” and “grand-aunt” refer to the same person—the sister of a grandparent. “Great-aunt” is the more common, everyday term, while “grand-aunt” is technically more precise. Same relationship. Different language.

If I get a choice, I’m going with grand-aunt. It just sounds cooler.

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In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter at all. But it did get me thinking about how much emphasis we place on the titles and roles we hold in life.

I am a wife, daughter, sister, aunt, grandmother, dog mom, cousin, volunteer, businesswoman, step-mom, friend, Substack writer, child, niece, mother-in-law… I could go on. I’m sure I’ve missed a few.

What about you? Have you ever stopped to think about all the roles you juggle?

Why does any of this matter? Maybe it’s the middle of winter. Maybe I’m worn down from working every single day this month. Maybe it’s because so many people are struggling right now. But over the past few weeks, I’ve found myself thinking more than usual about death and dying.

Not in a “oh no, I’m old and running out of time” way.

More in a what do I want to leave behind way.

Maya Angelou said, “If you’re going to live, leave behind a legacy. Make an impact on the world that can never be erased.”

When I think about legacy, I don’t mean wealth, fame, or self-importance. What matters to me is something much quieter.

My mom loved nothing more than being around people. She couldn’t stand to be alone. If you couldn’t be with her in person, a phone call would do.

Now, I loved my mom very much. But I’ll be honest—sometimes I called her out of obligation. Because I knew she would be sad if I didn’t. And she wasn’t shy about letting us know when she felt hurt or overlooked.

There’s no judgment in that. It was who she was. She needed connection.

But it taught me something.

I don’t want my grandson, my nephews, my nieces—or anyone else—to feel obligated to call or visit me someday. I don’t want connection rooted in guilt or duty.

I want them to call or visit because they want to.

Nothing makes me happier than when one of my nephews calls just to tell me something. To share a piece of his life. Just to talk. Ask for advice. To celebrate or commiserate when one of our sports teams wins—or loses. Those calls mean everything to me.

That, to me, is legacy.

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As I was editing this piece, I received the news that actress Catherine O’Hara died this morning at the age of 71. The timing stopped me in my tracks.

How I loved her.

Nobody—and I mean nobody—could make me laugh like she did as Moira Rose on Schitt’s Creek. Her legacy? She brought joy. Over and over again. To millions of people.

Not a bad way to be remembered.

Which brings me back to where I started.

I don’t need to be remembered as a great anything. Not even a grand anything. But being loved—and liked—by the people who matter most to me? Being someone they choose, not someone they feel obligated to check in on?

That feels like enough. More than enough.

So the work of leaving a legacy continues now. Today. In the ordinary moments.

And in the immortal words of Moira Rose:

“Who knows what will befall us tomorrow, John? You could be hit by a Mack truck or bopped on the head by a tiny piece of space debris.”

Words to live by.

What about you? What do you want your legacy to be?

Peace + Clarity

Much love!

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