Today I was in the hospital from the crack of dawn to sunset. After spending over 12 hours in the hospital, a large portion of that in a waiting room, one has a lot of time to think about, well, pretty much everything.
In the waiting room, there were many families waiting for news about their loved ones. While the first waiting room we waited in as Dad was having his surgery was eerily quiet with hushed tones, the second waiting room for the CVICU was more a-buzz with shared stories amoungst waiting family members.
Some, actually, come to think of it, most of the stories I heard tugged at my heart strings. The gentleman undergoing by-pass surgery for a second time because he couldn’t find the willpower to stop eating fast food, even with his doting daughter cooking for him more often than not. She was heart broken and angry. The wife who was shocked when her husband fell over with his heart attack. She was too stunned to call 911 at first. She shared her terrifying story in great detail with her family around her and for the rest of the waiting room to hear. There were others and each time I silently thanked my father for paying attention to his body. For listening to its cry for help so that he was here for surgery on a preventative measure instead of an urgent necessity.
Listening to these stories and walking through the different wings of the hospital over the course of the day really had me thinking about legacies. Each wing was dedicated (named) in someone’s honour. I didn’t know whoPeter Munk was until just today and that’s only because he has a ward in Toronto General named after him. Now, reading his bio, I realize that his legacy goes well beyond the naming of this wing, but it’s purpose worked - I now know who he is.
Legacies. Interesting fuel for one that has a burning fire within.
It’s hard not to think about what MY legacy will be. I don’t have an outstanding career. I don’t have children. I will not invent something that changes the world, nor will I ever have enough money to inspire a new wing in a hospital or to establish a new arm in a university. So what’s my offering to the world and what do I leave behind?
Good question. It’s a question that crosses my mind from time to time, but not one that I’ve sat with for so long and with such depth as I have today. Today, I found myself digging deeper on the subject.
Here’s what I realized and what I am actually quite happy and comfortable about: I live (at least I really try) each day as a new day. I push myself hard every day. I believe that there is no room in my life for laziness. (And no, I’m not talking about the peaceful calm, quiet of relaxing.) Every day, every moment is a new opportunity to define myself. I may not have a legacy to offer the world, but I know that I do touch lives. I have inspired. I have consoled. I have commiserated. I have laughed and brought laughter. I know that I bring a light to many. Can I call that my legacy? I don’t know. I really don’t. But I do know, that I’m not sitting around feeling sorry for myself that I don’t have a traditional legacy to offer the world. When I’m gone, the world will keep turning and I will be forgotten. That’s okay - what the heck do I care? I’ll be ashes in the wind. What’s more important to me, is being here and now and making a difference when and where I can.
My moment today is recognizing that it’s okay to be average and not have a legacy. Through that discovery process, I realized also that those closest to me would never agree with that statement above. I know that I’ve made a difference in their lives. It may not be worthy of a namesake and my name going down in history, but it means the world to me to know that I’ve made a difference in some peoples lives. However small my contribution is to this world, it matters.
Moments realizing your insignificance.
Moments realizing your importance.
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