As you get older, there’s a strange curse that creeps in: your friends start dying. At first it’s rare, a shock. Then it’s once every year or two. And then, before you know it, not a month goes by before you have to say goodbye to somebody else. It’s just the way of life.
And what’s always struck me is how differently people leave this world. Some pass away and only a handful of people show up to remember them. Others draw dozens, sometimes even hundreds—family, friends, associates, communities they touched. Some leave behind full lives with stories, laughter, and memories. Others die lonely, with little more than a whisper.
Lately, watching these departures, I’ve found myself asking: what is the legacy they left behind? And what is the legacy I will leave when my time comes? It’s a question that seems to grow louder as the years pass and the horizon gets closer.
But what if we turned the question around? What if instead of waiting until our sixties or seventies, when death feels like it’s peeking over our shoulder, we started asking this question much earlier?
What if we thought about legacy when we were twenty, or thirty, when we still had decades ahead of us to actually shape it?
So let me ask you: Mr. 30-year-old, what will your legacy be in 40 years? Because the truth is, you will get there. You will age, you will face that final chapter, and you will leave something behind. The question is: what will it be?
Will it be the relationships you nurtured, the kindness you practiced, the community you built, the work you created, or the lives you touched? Or will it be a pile of things left undone, words unsaid, and dreams you never had the courage to chase?
Now here’s the trouble with legacies: everyone thinks they’ll write theirs when they’ve got time, as if death keeps a polite appointment book. Folks put it off like balancing the checkbook, imagining one day they’ll straighten it all out. But time has a nasty habit of running the account for you—and it rarely waives overdraft fees.
So if you wait until you’re old and gray to worry about your legacy, don’t be surprised if your legacy ends up being little more than the wait itself.
Legacy is not something that happens at the end. It’s something you build every day. Every conversation you have, every choice you make, every person you lift—or fail to lift—becomes part of that story.
And maybe that’s the lesson: the best time to think about your legacy isn’t when time is running out. It’s when you still have enough of it left to change the answer.
So ask yourself now: What will they say about you when you’re gone? And are you living today in a way that makes that story worth telling?
And if you’re still not sure what kind of legacy to build, don’t worry—just live so that even the undertaker is sorry to see you go.
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