A Better Way to Think About Your Legacy (That Doesn’t Involve a Résumé)

I recently came across an obituary for someone who lived in the same neighborhood where I used to live. I didn’t know the family personally.

It was nicely written and shared the person’s professional accomplishments—but it read more like a LinkedIn profile. Towards the end, I began to wonder who the person behind all those accolades was.

It didn’t mention anything about who their closest friends were, what they enjoyed doing for fun, or what their favorite food was.

It didn’t say what their partner or children would miss the most about them. It read as if a co-worker wrote it rather than someone close to them. Maybe the people closest to them were grieving and didn’t have the space or time to write anything.

But then I started thinking, what if one of their family members wrote this? What if this was how they remembered this person?

How Do You Want to Be Remembered?

I wondered how other people remembered their loved ones, so I started reading more obituaries.

The ones that stayed with me most were those who described not just their loved one’s passion for work but what the person was like in real life and the impact they had on others.

One wrote about how she poured her love into her family by making delicious meals. Another was about his passion for baseball. Another spoke about being the family clown, while another mentioned following their father’s footsteps to join the police. Another mentioned how they loved helping their grandchildren with their homework.

These details stuck with me more than the ones that mentioned someone being intelligent, whether they were a VP or attended an Ivy League school.

Aren’t we, as individuals, so much more than our titles? Shouldn’t the connections we make along the way and the impact we leave on the people we interact with matter the most?

After all, isn’t a high school coach who inspires thousands of kids to push their limits doing meaningful work, just like a CEO? Isn’t an ICU Nurse who holds a child’s hand doing just as meaningful work as a doctor?

It got me thinking: How do I want to be remembered when I am gone?

How I’d Like to Be Remembered

I would want to know specific memories of how my partner and child remember me. I want my child to remember me as the mother who goofed off with him, woke up before dawn to take him to workouts, gave spontaneous pep talks to boost his confidence before swim meets, and was a shoulder to lean on when things got tough.

When he becomes a parent one day, I want him to remember that I played a part in making his home a safe place where he was supported and loved unconditionally.

Workwise, I would hate to be remembered only for the number of followers I had or the success of my books, even if these things mattered to me at the time.

Instead, I want to hear about specific moments when my work made a difference in someone’s life. Did I make someone happy? Inspire someone to try something they had been afraid of? Help someone stand up for themselves? Guide someone through a difficult time?

These moments would mean more than where I went to school, my GPA, or the companies I worked for.

It’s more meaningful to view our work through the lives it touched rather than the titles we held or places we worked.

What We Leave Behind

As we reflect on how we want to be remembered, the crucial question when it comes to work is not ‘What did we achieve?’ but ‘How did we make someone else’s life a little better?’

Our work is a large part of who we are, but not all of us—the relationships we have and our connection to other people also show how we live on this earth. At the end of our lives, will our loved ones have meaningful memories to share about us?

How would you want your obituary written? Often, we don’t write our obituary. When a loved one is writing it, how will they remember us?

The life we want doesn’t happen accidentally but by living our lives consciously in every aspect.