I can’t believe it is already six days into March. It really doesn’t feel like two months of 2013 have passed already.
This year, in July, it will be two years since my beloved Nan passed away from leukaemia. I miss her every day, and when I drive past where she used to live, I catch myself thinking I will call in on her. Then I remember that she is gone.
Every day there is something that I wish I could tell her – that I’m going to Thailand, that last week my two year old nephew told me it was nice to meet me, that my dog, Ari, fell into the lake and was embarrassed. Often I tell her anyway. I don’t know how it all works when we die, but I like to think our loved ones are around at least some of the time – that they check in on us. I can almost hear Nan’s laughter when I tell her that my cat, Minerva, was chasing her tale or feel her arms around me when I tell her about the waterhen I found who was sick and that I took to a bird sanctuary, but then it died.
I won’t have any children or grandchildren to remember me when I am gone. At times I feel sad about it. In centuries to come, if any of my brother’s descendants are researching family history I will be the name on the side – Paul’s sister, not the direct ancestor. I am not sure how interesting I will be – unless, of course, I am one of the first people to colonise Mars.
I am not certain what my legacy will be, but I know it won’t be from my body – at least not directly.
In some ways I feel like this makes me try harder to find a way to do something that matters, to leave the world a better place even if it’s just in a small way. Whether I’m remembered or not, I want to leave something that might be passed on not only through my nieces and nephews, but through other people that I meet and even just because I helped plant trees that have grown into centuries old beauties.
It might be the case that I am forgotten as the years, decades and centuries pass by, but in reality, how many of us will be remembered whether we have had children or not?
All I can do is do what I can do. And I intend to. I want to give something back for this amazing life I have been given and leave a legacy – even if my name is never spoken again.