The month of June always tugs at my emotions because it’s the month of both Father’s Day and my dad’s birthday. It never stops amazing me how much he still shows up in my life, even though he’s been gone for 20 years. I cherish the memories and am grateful for his legacy.
You’re probably wondering what’s the distinction?
Simply stated, memory is what we look back on, and legacy is what we carry forward, often without even realizing it.
As recently as last Sunday while I was out in my backyard grilling chicken, I paused to remember a little girl (me) holding onto the basting bowl while my dad brushed his secret sauce onto the chicken. The smoke would get in my eyes no matter where I stood, but the smell was intoxicating. The legacy I carry forward from my dad is how much I love to barbecue.
I have many distinct memories of my dad remembering everybody’s name, from the kid behind the counter at the dry cleaners, to the pharmacist, to the executive assistant to the owner of the Dunes Hotel. He made people feel seen and valued. The legacy I carry forward is memorizing names when I am at a networking event or a birthday party, and asking questions about their lives, their children, and their pets.
As a Mediator, I often work with families who cannot come to an agreement about their deceased parents’ stuff. In fact, I’ve given many presentations about this very topic. I typically don’t talk about the real estate or the investment accounts. Instead, I talk about the memory and the legacy. I remind people that the casserole dish or the oil painting may not survive forever, but the stories behind those objects can be passed down from generation to generation. Although I didn’t appreciate it, or even realize it while he was alive, I learned this from my dad.
Some families need to be reminded of the legacy they carry forward. I’ll never forget the mediation I conducted with two sisters who could not agree on their aging mother’s finances. On the surface, they were fighting about the cost of toilet paper. As we talked, it became clear that this conflict had nothing to do with toilet paper. They were competing for their mother’s attention during the last months of her life. Once they recognized that, the discussion shifted and the change in their tone was obvious. The sisters stopped competing and started focusing on the love they shared for their mom, and how proud they were to be her daughters. That was the legacy they carried forward.
Memories attach themselves to objects. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a casserole dish, an oil painting, or even something as basic as toilet paper. But legacy lives in the way we love, the way we show up, and the way we treat people.
If you knew my dad, you’d know.
