Yesterday, I attended a memorial service for a friend/colleague/mentor/supporter, in essence a wonderful woman. She was 57 when she succumbed to cancer. Too young.
Her memorial service was unlike any other I've attended. It was truly a celebration. It was held in an art gallery, celebrating her love of fine art. A youth choir performed, celebrating her love of music. Young women from a local arts school performed an interpretive dance, celebrating her love of watching kids express themselves through dance. The room was full of people sharing stories, talking about the last time they saw her, how they found out, that they couldn't believe she was gone. They laughed, talked, networked. She wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
Her son spoke about her last months, looked at each of us, and said that because she touched each of our lives, she lives on through us. That meant that we are his mother now. Oh sure, tears fell at that point, but there was also a call to responsibility. We are what she left behind to carry on her passions, her beliefs, her work. We are her legacy.
Who or what is your legacy? For whom are you the legacy?
Update: Still at 20 pounds give or take a couple. Still have high blood pressure, but hopefully, a check on Thursday will show I'm back to normal.
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