Dear Will:

Someone asked me once how I’d like to be remembered. I thought the question was totally unfair. If after I’m gone people remember me—truly remember me—their memories will be awash with all of my character flaws and shortcomings. No, thanks. What I would prefer it to be misremembered, for years and years receiving credit for virtues I never actually mastered while my annoying quirks, bad habits, and weaknesses would be lost forever. That I would sign up for. In a heartbeat.

I realize I’m not really in a position to negotiate, but if I’m allowed a suggestion or two, in that future someday I’d like those false memories to look something like this:

I’d like to be remembered as the guy who said just the right thing in that moment when it really mattered. Someone who was there in the middle of that one memory that you’ll always treasure. A central figure in the story that you tell over and over at social gatherings and everybody has a good laugh. Someone who you always associate with one of your very favorite things—that song, that place, that book, that special treat. So that when you think of any of those things, and smile, I’m part of that smile.

I’d like to be remembered as someone who put others first, mostly, or who left you glad in those instances when he made a selfish choice and dragged you along with him. A guy who filled most settings with positive energy and light. Someone who found a way to include those who might otherwise have been left out. Who made others feel that they belong.

I’d like to be remembered as a man who loved easily and openly, judged generously, found ways to give others the benefit of the doubt. Someone who made those around him want to be better and do better. A guy who consistently showed up and made others glad that he did. Someone about whom you might tell tales that inspire others far beyond his lifetime. A doer and a difference maker who left the world, or his little patch of it in any case, better in ways that you could name right off the top of your head.

All of that would be GREAT. But I would forego any of it (or most of it, anyway) if only I could be remembered as someone who was good at the relationships that matter most: husband, father, brother, friend. Someone who left those in his closest inner circle with the absolute certainty that he loved each one deeply and eternally and showed that love in a hundred different ways both large and small. Someone who, in memory, could make you feel that way again and again, long after he’s gone.

Alas. 

If I died tomorrow and you remembered me that way, it would be clear that you were not paying close attention. But since I don’t expect to die tomorrow, or anytime soon thereafter, that idealized, fictionalized image of myself gives me something clear to shoot for. It will take lots of work. There is almost certainly not enough time or divine intervention to close the gap between who I am and who I’d like to be. But on the other hand, it’s nice to have a project, isn’t it?

Facing those high aspirations and impossible odds, I find hope in the scripture that promises: “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”

So what it seems to be saying is there’s a chance. I hope and pray that’s true. For everyone’s sake.

PW

_{Photo by Kirk Cameron on Unsplash}