How can we leave a legacy that matters if our focus when we get out of bed is to go to work, come home and do chores; rinse and repeat? Not much excitement in any of that, is there? This morning, I am hard pressed to answer that specific question. What would our legacy be if we committed to do what is right each day, and to string all those days together? Would we leave a legacy that matters?
Like my Father
Last year, I wrote a post for father’s day entitled Like my Father. At the time, I was waffling in trying to decide which characteristics were similar to that of my father and those that were not. He left a legacy, whether it was his intention to leave the one that he had, is unlikely. He did not think deeply about his actions; something is either right or wrong, and seldom in between. You live a private life and assume the world is watching. I could go on, but I want to be respectful of my memories of him.
I too am leaving a legacy. I could pick up where he left off and perpetuate the cycles that he left with me. That would be easy. My challenge is to take the best of what he had to offer, forgo those characteristics that need to be relinquished, open a new chapter in our family’s story.
[intense_image image=”631″ size=”medium640″ align=”left” title=”Building Legacy” caption=”Building a Legacy”]
Legacy Building
It is a story after all, one that is retold at family gatherings. If he only knew…Would he be proud, angry, delighted or embarrassed? Would he just be confused that we missed the point he was trying to get across? I could speculate but it would be just that, nothing more than my best guess. Legacies are far too important to be summarized by those with a soap box.
Our cultural norms are much more diverse, the challenges we face are more complex, but our abilities to cope and adapt, and to fight or flee, are also more mature. Still, the fate of our legacies will hang in the balance between our actions that are selfless and noble and those that are self-serving and superficial.
Parkinson’s Sucks
For those who may have forgotten, a year ago I began this blog by writing about my battles with Parkinson’s over time. Lately, I have wandered off that page. Why? I was beginning to be consumed with how I viewed myself within the context of the societal whole. It was if I was becoming a one-dimensional character in a story that will have a predictable ending. But there is more to the story, more to my story, than my condition.
Last week, I had an opportunity to share my story. During the Q&A portion of the presentation, I referred to the period after I was first diagnosed as the lost years; a period of time that was confusing, dark and seemed to stand in the way of everything that I wanted to accomplish. Only recently did I come to realize that it was during that period, I had to experience victories and defeats that would prepare and equip me for what I was meant to accomplish. I suspect that this period, more than any other, will have the greatest impact on my legacy.
Looking Forward
I prefer that the story of my life become larger than a battle with a disease and punctuated by a few family vacations, and a disjointed career. After reading the words written in a Valentine’s Day card from my lovely wife, I was humbled. Now the risk is finding comfort in my circumstances and becoming as one-dimensional as the words that I write.
Like an epitaph on a tomb stone, once its words are written and the stone placed, legacies are seldom changed after we are gone.
For years, I was led to believe that there was still something missing. There is; my story. It is my intent to make it one of courage, of hope, of resolve and purpose. My story was meant to fill a few of those blank pages left by my father. I can’t change his pages, but I can write my own. I have plenty to write about. I hope that you all (for those special friends south of the Mason-Dixon line, y’all) continue to follow along.
Thanks for reading, liking and sharing,
Ivy wants to be included in the story as well. She has been reading up on sidekicks and thinks that there is a cape and a mask in it for her. The paparazzi are getting to her.
Al and his faithful, but publicity-werry sidekick, Ivy the wonder pup.