Final wishes
"The legacy of heroes is the memory of a great name and the inheritance of a great example." ~Benjamin Disraeli
In high school, our English teacher gave us the assignment to write our own obituary. It was a tough, morbid task, to forecast our death and to write about it in third person. After a few days, we all realized that the task wasn't so much about writing about our death as it was to consider our future life and how we would want to be remembered in those final words published in the paper.
For weeks I have tried to write my mother's obituary. It was suggested by many sources that writing it while she was still alive would be easier than trying to write it after she had passed away. Those who have experienced the loss of their mother all explained that the grieving is so hard and that writing something with full thought would be difficult. As hard as I tried, the words never came. Not until last Friday.
After a day full of emotion, starting with the phone call notifying me of mom's death, all the way through the traveling home, the reuniting with our kids, the reviewing of all of the mail from a week and the pure exhaustion from emptying suitcases and clearing a trip out, the words came. Mom poured her heart and soul into raising my brother and me. She took very seriously the charter of making us good people. There were numerous lectures about life, their were endless stories of people who had endured insurmountable trials to fight for a better world for everyone. Long before it was cool, Mom recycled. Long before it was cool, Mom refused to judge people by their color. Long before it was cool, Mom demanded that women and men are equal. Long before it was cool, Mom reached out to the needy.
Having written the obituary and gotten my life in order, we traveled to Mom's home the following day. I met with the funeral home, gave them the obituary, finalized her plans and returned to her home to spend time with my brother and dad. As I went through her papers and all of her things I found a letter written to me and my brother. In it she writes that her only wish was to raise us to be the people she knew we could be. Word for word, her wishes in her letter mirrored the legacy I wrote about in her obituary. As if being two pieces of one document, her final wishes and her final story were completely the same.
I can only hope to be as successful at my wishes and dreams and goals as my Mom was. That long after I am gone, my fingerprints will be on the things that matter most.
In high school, our English teacher gave us the assignment to write our own obituary. It was a tough, morbid task, to forecast our death and to write about it in third person. After a few days, we all realized that the task wasn't so much about writing about our death as it was to consider our future life and how we would want to be remembered in those final words published in the paper.
For weeks I have tried to write my mother's obituary. It was suggested by many sources that writing it while she was still alive would be easier than trying to write it after she had passed away. Those who have experienced the loss of their mother all explained that the grieving is so hard and that writing something with full thought would be difficult. As hard as I tried, the words never came. Not until last Friday.
After a day full of emotion, starting with the phone call notifying me of mom's death, all the way through the traveling home, the reuniting with our kids, the reviewing of all of the mail from a week and the pure exhaustion from emptying suitcases and clearing a trip out, the words came. Mom poured her heart and soul into raising my brother and me. She took very seriously the charter of making us good people. There were numerous lectures about life, their were endless stories of people who had endured insurmountable trials to fight for a better world for everyone. Long before it was cool, Mom recycled. Long before it was cool, Mom refused to judge people by their color. Long before it was cool, Mom demanded that women and men are equal. Long before it was cool, Mom reached out to the needy.
Having written the obituary and gotten my life in order, we traveled to Mom's home the following day. I met with the funeral home, gave them the obituary, finalized her plans and returned to her home to spend time with my brother and dad. As I went through her papers and all of her things I found a letter written to me and my brother. In it she writes that her only wish was to raise us to be the people she knew we could be. Word for word, her wishes in her letter mirrored the legacy I wrote about in her obituary. As if being two pieces of one document, her final wishes and her final story were completely the same.
I can only hope to be as successful at my wishes and dreams and goals as my Mom was. That long after I am gone, my fingerprints will be on the things that matter most.
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~~ In Passing ~~
Sometimes Mom in passing
Would pat you on the back
And sometimes in passing
She'd show you the right track.
Sometimes Mom in passing
Would say, "You sure look nice!"
And sometimes in passing
She could, make you, think twice.
Sometimes Mom in passing
Would lightly touch your hair
And sometimes in passing
She'd show you what was fair.
Sometimes Mom in passing
Would ask, "What do you mean?"
And sometimes in passing
She would get in between.
Sometimes Mom in passing
Would give you, "that look"
And sometimes in passing
Would give you what it took.
But this time, Mom is passing
From this world to the best
And this time in passing
She'll pass the final test.
And when Mom has passed
And the pain is so unkind
Just look and you'll find her
There in your heart and mind.
--- Anonymous
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