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.
