Legacy

I've been thinking a lot about life and death these past few weeks for a number of reasons.  First and foremost is likely my aunt and all that she is going through.  It’s so not okay to have to watch this and not be able to do anything about it.  We can’t fix this problem and I know that all of us wish we could somehow.  The second reason I’ve been thinking about life & death is that for a few weeks, we were going through my grandparents’ old house and getting it ready to be sold.  My grandpa died a few years ago, while I was in Afg.  I hated not being able to be there to say goodbye, to be with him when he died, or to be at the funeral.  It was not ideal.  So about a year & a half ago, my grandma moved but she only took what she’d need or want to have at her new place.  Given the expanses of her old home and the confines of the new one, that wasn’t much.  Not comparatively speaking, at least.  So the family had the fun/duty of going through the remainders and getting what we’d want or taking the important stuff that shouldn’t be thrown away or given away.  I gravitated toward two things—cooking and kitchen stuff, and my grandma’s craft things.  I’ve been doing some sewing lately and have a lot of improvements to make and room to grow so it’s nice to have materials without having to spend money when I’m not sure how the items will turn out.  While going through her things, I kept wondering about what an invasion of privacy it might feel like to her.  Or to my grandpa, for that matter.  Then I started to wonder what people would think of me if they were going through my things if I died.  Boy.  That was… insightful!  I’ll tell you one thing for sure, they would see a person who loves crafts and has a lot of unfinished projects.  Similar to my grandma, I suppose.  They would also see someone who has a book obsession, for sure.  What would they think about my books?  My taste in movies?  What would they think if they went through my computer and saw my browsing history?  My goodness, the research I’ve done for my papers has had me reading extensively about eating disorders, child abuse, substance abuse…  would they think that was for my entertainment or realize that it’s for research?  What would they think if they saw my saved paperwork?  Probably that I’m a sentimental sap about a lot of things.  Would they laugh at my embarrassingly large collections of candles, panties, and perfumes?  Not that any of those have anything in common, but they’re some very extensive collections!  If someone had to go through my receipts would they think I was a drunk or someone who really enjoys a variety of wines?  Would they see my receipts from restaurants as laziness and not wanting to cook or would they realize that it was amazing time spent with lifelong friends that I wouldn't trade for anything?  What do we leave behind for others to know about us?  Do we leave a legacy that we are aware of or is it more often accidental?  Most of us don’t get a say as to when we leave this world.  We can’t sit here with our loved ones and explain the meaning to an unsent letter to a parent that was hanging out under our mattress.  We (wait, if either of my parents are reading this, I actually don’t have any unsent letters to either of you hanging out under my mattress… it was just an example.) don’t have a chance to point out that the little piece of beach glass we are saving is because it reminds us of our grandma or our trip to the beach with our honey who just happens to be seeing the Pacific ocean for the first time (that part is legit).  These little objects that mean so much to us mean nothing at all to people who don’t know the story.  I found a little bear in my grandma's crafts that was made out of those tiny little crafty pom-poms.  I don’t have a clue if this bear means anything to her at all, but I cannot bear (hahaha!) to get rid of it.  I’m sure I could ask her, but I’m not sure if she’d remember.  Oh memories.  How precious and fragile. 

What is our legacy?  What story can be created out of our belongings?  What do our physical representations of personal memories mean to anybody else?  What happens when we lose sight of those memories?