What We Leave Behind

My Aunt Lil died in 2017. A stay-at-home mom who lived her entire life in a small Boston suburb, Lil was a devout Catholic who raised seven kids, was a good neighbor and friend, made sure homemade dinner and dessert were on the table every night, volunteered, and held a few interesting jobs. By some measures, her life was pretty basic. Yet her funeral mass was packed, sincere tears and laughter prevailed as memories were revisited. Lil loved deeply and was deeply loved. Eight years after her funeral, I smile when I think of Lil. And I do think about her.

Lil’s husband, my 93 year old uncle died earlier this year. Uncle Jerry was a smart yet simple, relatively humble guy, completely devoted to his wife and family. Given his age and knowing that he was the last of his generation, I assumed his wake would be small. Yet when I arrived, an hour into the three-hour visitation, I had to wait in line to greet his kids. His obit was short; the real story of his life was evidenced by the connection we felt with each other as we honored him. At his funeral, Jerry’s family shed tears, but so did staffmembers at his assisted living facility, lifelong friends of his children, some who traveled a long way to be there, and the daughter of a neighbor who wanted to pay her respects on behalf of her mom.

I’m not overly preoccupied with death, though I’ve begun to be more mindful about the impact I have a chance to make today. We don’t get to choose how people remember us, but we can stack the deck a bit by how we choose to show up in the world. What a tribute to a life well lived that my aunt and uncle were honored by so many who feel their absence - in a good way - after they’re gone. #goals