Today we talked about how we want to be remembered. We closed our eyes … thought about where we see ourselves in 5, 10, 20, 40, 80 years from now … saw snapshot images of our future life… then listened to very appropriate mellow music as we wrote our own eulogies. I had to leave the room to help someone take care of something but was able to come back in for the last 5-10 minutes. It’s a funny thing, really, putting into words who you are and who you want to be. My eulogy didn’t turn out as a eulogy as much as a journal entry. Here is what I wrote:

“First of all I think it’s quite fitting how I am writing on the back of a sign-out sheet, like the world is trying to tell me to put myself back in the game … don’t sign out before you even begin or you’ll forget how to play. As my eyes were closed and I thought about how my life will be, there were no single significant people in my life, but groups of people… it was all memories of giving and learning what life is really about … no husband, no children … I saw images of a hammock swinging to a soft mountain breeze, little kids in rags jumping up and down, and me walking down a road shaking people’s hands… in that order. As I sat there listening to Scott’s words I thought to myself, ‘Who would I want to read my eulogy?’ Again, no one significant figure, but a person that quickly walked in and out of my life leaving me with a more concrete knowledge of who I am, what is important, and a memory of happiness. How is it that I am always brought back to them? Someone who doesn’t know me, someone I hardly know … but someone who I feel knows me better than anyone I’ve ever met… someone who I feel I can look into their soul and understand every little bit of it. Of everyone to read my eulogy I choose that person … a symbol of how I see the rest of my life. So how do I see the rest of my life? Breaking down stereotypes… not stereotypes of others, but stereotypes of my own.”

Stereotypes of my own… I sat there for another 2 minutes and couldn’t get the idea out of my mind. In this moment of reflection I realized that no matter how good or bad, it no longer matters to me how I am remembered. I realized that what is now important to me is what I have learned along the way, and that if I am genuine in my learning everything else will fall into place. It’s a scary feeling not to care, but when I closed my eyes and saw those snapshots of my life ahead a comfort overcame me. What I know in this moment is that whatever I endure in the future and whatever thoughts and beliefs of mine that change, I look forward to meeting that hammock, those kids, and quite literally, that road ahead.