Last month, our family encountered a deep loss when my husband’s grandmother, Marian F. Wilson, passed away at the age of 94. Although I never had a chance to know her, since she was severely affected by Alzheimer’s by the time I came into the family, I couldn’t help but be moved by everything everyone had to say about her during the funeral. This, along with a message series we’ve been coincidentally studying at my church, got me thinking: our life on this earth is not over once we die. It wasn’t until this funeral that I truly resonated with the significance of this concept. There is something incredibly genuine that comes with our death, and that is the impact of our legacy.

I’ve got my job.

This lovely lady had what some may call one of the best and most honorable jobs in the country: she was a U.S. Marine (a WWII veteran, to be exact). Needless to say, this wasn’t the kind of profession that you’d nonchalantly refer to as a “job.” This was different; this was a calling and devotion. Even still, as prestigious as this profession was, it was interesting to see how every person that spoke about her didn’t really mention much about what she did while she served, but rather the areas of her character that were simply shaped by her service. We heard wonderful stories of how she raised her children, the values that she instituted in her family, and the adversities that she had to overcome as a single mother when her husband died unexpectedly. And to top it all off, the one and only thing I remember anyone saying about her regular, non-military job was: “she worked at the store.”

Oftentimes we become so indulged and submerged in our jobs and career paths, buying into the lie that what we do for a living is our identity that it makes us forget about what really matters. Your job, no matter how amazing, should not be your identity. The reality is that no one at your funeral will remember you as “John the accountant” – at least, not the ones who truly get to know you. So, take some time to disconnect from your “job” and invest time in those you love. Start building your legacy with the people and things that matter most.

I’ve got my things.

As the eulogies kept coming, greater and funnier stories kept being told. All of those stories were about her car, how big her house was, and all the wonderful things she had. I’m kidding – they were about none of that. Nope; Mrs. Wilson didn’t exactly have what would be classified as a glamorous life. As a matter of fact, the only thing I remember on this topic is someone saying “we grew up poor.” But man, was her life rich. The stories about Mrs. Wilson and her dedication to her family and loved ones just kept pouring, and laughter amidst mourning filled the entire room. The stories of her chasing after my father-in-law as a kid were especially funny (of course, Ken, my father-in-law, clarified that his mischiefs were only a result of his older brother’s leadership). 🙂

No one talked about this lady’s possessions, or her money, or the things she had. Yet so often we become so incredibly stressed, drowning in debt due to buying things we can’t afford. Here’s another reality: those things will not go to the grave with you. Your possessions and your money ultimately do not define you, and these should also not be your identity. So why not take some time to de-clutter? Or make a plan to get out of debt? I doubt that you’d want your legacy to be “John, the one with lots of stuff.”

I’ve got my looks.

Marian Wilson was as beautiful as an angel. During the wake, the place was filled with old pictures from her earlier years. I remember looking at every single one and being amazed, mainly because her husband could have been my husband Patrick’s twin, but also because she truly was beautiful. As great as she looked, no one talked about her looks, either. I remember someone telling the story of asking Mrs. Wilson, “Grandma, how come you won’t get married again?” to which she comically responded: “What kind of man do you think would be so out of his mind to take on a woman with six kids?”

Yup, Mrs. Wilson was full of personality that went beyond her looks. Then I thought, how often do I spend endless minutes trying to get the perfect selfie? We’ve become such a surface-level society where appearances have become the center by which we rotate, that we are slowly being consumed by it. I was reading an article today about a young lady who was sent home during an interview due to her outfit. Although I do believe she was wrongly judged and shouldn’t have gone through that experience, I was really disappointed by something she said: “I realize that my appearance is who I am.” There is so much more to our legacy than our looks; your appearance is not your identity. So how about you take a day off from having the perfect look, and maybe just go serve someone in need?

I’ve got my kids.

“So if it’s not my job, my things, or my looks, then I guess my legacy is in my kids?” Well, I’m not so sure about that. Mrs. Wilson had six kids all together, all of whom grew up to be wonderful people. Yet, I wouldn’t call them her legacy directly. When it came to the topic of her children, most of what I heard about this woman had to do with everything she had taught them. Her children didn’t become her legacy; the things she taught them did. Her kids didn’t represent who she was; their morals did. Her kids didn’t show the world around them what she was about; their values did. While her children may not be her legacy, her children will carry it out long after she’s left them.

Our lives truly do continue to speak to the world long after we’ve gone. And so, I stop today and think: “What am I teaching my children? Where am I leading them? What values am I imprinting in their lives? What am I imprinting in others’ lives? How well am I loving my husband?” Our legacy will continue to speak to the world, whether it’s a good one, or a not so great one. Take some time to reflect on your life, and ask yourself “what will be my legacy?”

In loving memory of Marian F. Wilson