During a recent workshop we did a connection exercise where participants chose a question to discuss with others at their tables. When visiting the tables one of the folks was sharing their take on how they wanted to be remembered. It was very moving and inspirational. They asked me if I'd answer the same question. Here's the story I shared with them...
When we were stationed in Japan my father's health was declining. Just a few years earlier he had recovered from an impossible amount of time in a coma after necessary surgery. Although we had him for another 4 years, my Mother was a constant care-giver as he had multiple complications that made everyday life hard.
The last time I spoke to him it was a short phone call when our family was in downtown Tokyo visiting some of our favorite spots. He told me how proud he was of me and that he loved me. I told him how much I loved him, to take care of himself and we'd talk again soon. After we spoke, a Buddhist monk approached me and gave me a beaded prayer bracelet which I still have. How timely our chance meeting was on the streets of Tokyo. To know someone was thinking about me and inherently knew I was dealing with something heavy was comforting.
On March 6, 2017 he passed away. My brother called me crying. It was the middle of the night for us in Japan. I got dressed and went out for a walk, crying the whole time. We knew this moment was coming. It still hurt. No matter how much we think we're prepared we aren't.
The time in between his passing and our trip back to the U.S. for his memorial service felt like an eternity. During this time we visited one of our favorite Buddhist shrines about thirty minutes from where we lived. It was peaceful, beautiful, and always served as a healthy contemplative place for our family.
The shrine had a paved walkway around the entire place we walked each time. We would ring the bell, enjoy the flowering bushes, statues, and all the well cared for areas it featured. On this occasion the first trip around I pondered how my father would be remembered. He had spent his life serving others as a performer, teacher, mentor, and confidant who shared joyous encouragement with everyone. I also began thinking about how I wanted to honor my father's memory as his son.
How did I want to be remembered?
For some reason this question didn't lead me where I thought it would. On the second trip around I stopped and rang the bell. It rang for a long time and as it faded a new question came to me.
Why did I want to be remembered at all?
This took me to a different place in my mind. A much better place.
We all have choices to make in how we live out our lives. These choices become the example of who we intend to be. Our lived experiences and how we carry ourselves through them are the measure of who we want to be.
When we do things for the purpose of being remembered, to leave some kind of legacy, it's probably for selfish reasons. When we do things unconditionally it's for unselfish reasons.
The things we do for ourselves are gone when we're gone. The things we do for others live on in them as our legacy.
Loss is something we all have in common. Nobody lives forever. We're all going to die someday. It's part of being human. It's just part of the deal.
There are many things I've learned from losing family members and loved ones. Each of you could no doubt do the same. These memories could fill many books!
The best way to honor each of those we've lost is to live by continuing to share their spirit through our actions. Not wanting to be remembered but instead seeking to positively impact others' lives unconditionally. Of course we hope they would be proud of us, ultimately we need to be proud of ourselves. Thanks to that table of folks who had the courage to share their answer and to listen to my story.
Love you Dad.
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