We spend a lot of time talking about wills, documents, assets, and plans. And those things matter. But there is another kind of legacy.
The one that isn’t written down.
The one that isn’t divided up.
The one that isn’t stored in a binder.
It’s the legacy people carry forward in how they live.
The Kind of Man My Dad Was
My dad was a jokester. Not in an obnoxious way — in a good-natured, “I just want to see you smile” way. I truly believe his daily goal was to crack a joke and get a chuckle out of someone.
He owned his own business, but his passion was sports. He coached football, basketball, and track. And yes, he taught fundamentals — how to run the right route, plant your feet, finish through the line. But what he was really teaching young adults was how to be capable.
How to work hard.
How to respect authority.
How to be disciplined.
How to show up for your team.
Sports were just the vehicle. Character was the mission.
The Kind of Woman My Mom Was
My mom was warm. She was the voice of reason — but in the gentlest way. She didn’t overpower people; she guided them. She loved sitting across from someone, listening, asking questions, helping them untangle whatever they were walking through.
She was a devout Christian. Church wasn’t optional for her — it was life-giving. She volunteered. She showed up. She rooted for the underdog every single time.
If someone was struggling, she leaned in.
If someone felt overlooked, she noticed.
If someone needed encouragement, she gave it freely.
Grace wasn’t just something she talked about. It was something she practiced.
I Didn’t Fully Understand Their Impact Until They Were Gone
I had over three decades on this earth with my parents.
I watched how they handled people.
How they responded to conflict.
How they showed up for family.
How they spoke about others.
But it wasn’t until after they were gone that I fully understood their legacy. People started approaching me at places I went, like the grocery store and in church. I even got messages through Facebook. They told me stories about my dad mentoring them. About my mom walking with them through something hard. About a joke, a conversation, a moment that stuck with them.
And I realized: Their legacy wasn’t their possessions. It was their presence.
The Roadmap They Left Behind
After they passed, I started noticing something else… I was living the way they had lived.
I volunteered for Teammates, a Nebraska-based mentoring program for youth who may not have someone consistently in their corner. Because that’s what my dad would have done. When my uncle Jack passed away in Minnesota, my husband and I drove up for the funeral. Yes, it was a long drive. Yes, I missed two days of work. But my mom taught me: family is everything. You show up. So we showed up.
Watching my parents was like having a roadmap for adulthood. They didn’t just tell me what mattered. They demonstrated it.
A Question Worth Asking
Now imagine something different. What if I had grown up watching my parents feud on a daily basis? What if I had been inundated with bitterness, selfishness, and long-standing grudges?
Would I be who I am today? Would I volunteer for meaningful causes? Would I drop everything to be there for family? Would I prioritize relationships over convenience?
Probably not.
We don’t just leave money behind. We leave patterns. We leave habits. We leave examples.
The Legacy You’re Building Today
At AmanaCare, I often talk about dignity at the end of life. But legacy begins long before the end.
It’s built in:
- How you treat your spouse.
- How you speak about others.
- How you respond when you’re wronged.
- How you handle disagreement.
- Whether you forgive.
- Whether you show up.
- Forgiveness and peace of mind are worth everything.
- Start with forgiving yourself. Let go of old resentments. Don’t carry a 40-year grudge into eternity.
Relationships are paramount! And if you’ve tried to reconnect with someone — apologized, reached out, extended grace — and they aren’t receptive, you can still move forward in peace. Pray. Release it. Choose love anyway.
Carrying It Forward
I get to carry on my parents’ legacy of love. I can mentor other people and show up in grief-filled situations with grace. And my hope is that someone watching me — just like I watched my mother and father — continues it someday. That’s the legacy that isn’t written in a will. It’s written in hearts. And it outlives us all.
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