I’ve seen a bunch of people refer to legacy and inheritance interchangeably, but the reality is they are two very different things. Inheritance is what you have left-over from your physical life – the tangible reminders that you were here. These things are usually quickly gone through, sorted and divvied between the surviving family members and close friends. The tangible things also usually have more value to YOU than they will to your heirs. At least, sometimes.

A legacy on the other hand is a collection of tangible and intangible things that represent the essence of your time here on Earth. Tangible legacy items can be any number of things – personalized handwritten notes, special items, photos, a family tree or genealogy records. It can also be voice recordings, stories to be passed down, recipes, videos – Literally anything can be part of your legacy. Intangible legacy items are things like the stories your loved ones will share about you long after you’re gone, memories created in the HERE and NOW.

Having a legacy worth dying for starts here – in the living world. The conscious effort to prepare items for your family members in the probable event of your death – it comes for all of us, and none of us know when.

The day my mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 pancreatic cancer, the phone literally fell out of my hand. I know, it’s cliche, but I dropped the phone and let out a guttural cry. I knew that that phone call had set our family on a trajectory into the throughs of death and for my mother, the act of actively dying. Once I had a moment to collect myself, I remember being equal parts angry and jealous. How wonderful it must be to have a renewed sense of importance for each day! I then got out a piece of paper and began to scribble things that I needed to ask, needed to know, or wanted to do with my mom.

Here’s what that sorta looked like:

Before you go….

Ask mom to label as many of the family pictures from her childhood as possible. Distant relatives, etc – tell me the stories about the pictures while I record her.

Record bedtime stories for my son (who at the time was only 2 years old) so that he could hear Nana’s voice.

Ask mom what her dreams were before life got in the way.

Buy mom a journal so she could write her thoughts – upgrade her iPad so she could type notes to me, my son, and my dad.

Ask her for all the account log-ins. Bank accounts, life insurance, genealogy reports.

Find out what her true final wishes were. Did she want cremated or buried.

What are some of her greatest accomplishments.

Bucket List – What does she want to do before she goes.

Make each day count. Work less, spend more time with her, and really be present and listen.

And so, for the next 5 months my mom and I worked tirelessly on living every moment we could together – sharing, loving, living. I rented a beautiful ocean view apartment in Veracruz, Mexico and we walked the beach every morning until she was too weak – then we sat with our coffees on the balcony and just painted the sunrises or talked. When we rested, we worked on the list of questions I had. We took TONS of pictures. We made memories.

She passed exactly 5 months after her diagnosis, and when she died, I had a beautiful kit of memories, mementos, recordings and the confidence that I KNEW what she wanted for her goodbye. She was cremated and placed in an urn that she picked as her resting place. Her obituary was written mostly by her with only a few embellishments added by me. And when we had her celebration of life – it included her own selection of bible verses and music. Every piece of that early grieving process WREAKED of her essence – in the best way possible. It was undeniable that she was with us still.

Fast forward a year later, and I find myself occasionally returning to that box of memories. I open it and sift through the letters she left me, the photos, the special bible verses. When I’m really missing her, I close my office door, take out the small pillow that has her favorite perfume on it, and cry until my head hurts. I can’t imagine not having these things.

I’m working through her bucket list items and crossing them off, taking pictures as I go. Her legacy, her essence lives on in me and that is a gift that I would never give away. So, I have begun preparing my legacy box for my son and husband. A collection of my “essence” that one day they will open and share. I hope that time is far away, but even if it isn’t, I know that they will have at least some tokens of me to relieve that pain.

If you’re ready to talk about legacy, planning for the time when it comes – Let’s schedule a call.