I found this photo of my dad the other day. He would have been 100 years old this year.
It’s funny how we remember people a certain way. I remember him as a stern, perfectionist man, who unfortunately was ill much of my childhood. But he had a life before he became my dad. He was 41 when I was born. He served in WW2 in the Navy Seabees and after the war was over he met my mom – a war widow.
He died when I was young, so I never knew him as an adult would know another adult. My memories are the recollections of a child’s mind.
It got me to thinking about the legacy we leave. How will my children remember me? Will they remember my passions and dreams? Or will they swap stories about my recipes and lack of housekeeping skills?
Now that I write historical fiction I often wish I had probed my parents more about the war and how they felt about and lived through those days. They were young then, living a piece of the world’s history day by day. What a wealth of information I could have gleaned. I would have had richer memories to recall today.
How will you be remembered? Do you share your past with your children and grandchildren? What impression will they pass on about your life?