Nan in the 1940’s and Mom in 1957
Let’s be honest, we all know one person who absolutely loves getting older. They have embraced it with wild abandon and can’t wait for white hair and feel those years might be the best of their lives.
I’m not one of those people. If anything, in the last two years I’ve had strong feelings about how I squandered some of my time between 20 and 40. Now, don’t get me wrong. Some of that was absolutely life, and learning and worth it, buuuuut, there are other parts that when I have time to reflect on them, I wish I had taken the trip, bought the sporty car, but more importantly spent more time with important people in my life.
My Nan was one of my closest friends, if not my bestest friend. I spent years getting to know about her life, for fear of when she wouldn’t be around to tell me anymore. I drank it all in. I find myself wishing I had done that more with others. Sure, I have memories of childhood and stories, but I feel like there are huge gaps of history that I just haven’t absorbed yet about so many people I care about! There just isn’t enough time.
I want more dinner dates with family! Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Nieces… Everytime I have an opportunity to visit with my Uncles and Aunts, I always leave with a bit of joy in my heart. The stories they tell about when my parents were young, or when I was young. Stories about their travels and their lives. Those stories are their legacy just like my stories are mine.
Which brings me around to something that is both sad, and beautiful all at the same time. If our legacy is the memories and the stories that we are part of and that we share, as long as those stories are being told, we are still alive in the hearts and minds of others. But eventually because we don’t have children of our own, or don’t have younger folks around us, those stories will fade away. Even when that time comes, we ask ourselves, will we be proud of the stories that were told? Will we find joy and peace in the legacies we leave behind?
Deep thoughts on the eve of 41 my friends.
In my 41st year, I want to see more of you. I want to have meaningful conversations and quality time. Let’s work together to make that happen.