Lately, I have been thinking a lot about my purpose and what kind of legacy I am going to leave behind when my time is up. I don’t have an answer.
This kind of thought has been coming so often now since December last year when I had a near-death experience that maybe I will have the courage to put online one day. But for now, it is the thing I am comfortable keeping to myself.
What is it that I want my loved ones to remember me for? What do I want to come to their minds when I pass through their thoughts?
I’m currently reading Love Songs for Ricki Wilde, and I love the relationship between Ricki, a 29-year-old woman, and Ms. Della, a 96-year-old woman.
She wonders what type of legacy she will leave behind at her age. She admires Ricki’s daring decision to move to a new city to open her flower shop. She is desperate to prove to herself that she is more than what her family thinks of her—an incapable woman who is all over the place.
I read this as we drove from Arusha to Maswa—duty calls. I looked outside the window at beautiful mountains and wondered, again, about this question: What legacy am I going to leave behind?
Just a few minutes ago, as we sipped our hot coffee from Sanna Cafe, my colleagues and I discussed how it would feel to open a coffee shop just for the sake of it. We were building a community of some sort. Entesh wants one with good coffee and books, Mirys wants one with good coffee and a cool working space like Google’s, and I, on the other hand, want one with good coffee, books, and lots of plants.
This could be a legacy. But if I’m honest with myself, the legacy that I want to leave is to be compassionate—compassionate enough to make people feel seen and validated. And what better way to meet people than having a coffee shop where you can build a community of people with the same interests?
I think of Ms. Della again. At 96, she is still questioning her legacy. Maybe this search never really ends. Maybe legacy is not just one thing but the sum of all the small moments we create with others—the conversations over coffee, the books shared, the gentle reassurances we give without thinking.
But achieving this kind of legacy requires one to be able to take more chances and risks, believe in oneself, and be ready to put in the work needed to achieve it.
Today, I will stop here and go back to my book, and perhaps this post will serve as a reminder of what I want and motivate me to work towards that legacy. It might not be exactly this, but it will involve creating a space where people feel seen and validated.
What about you? What kind of legacy do you hope to leave behind?
Until next time,
Jane 🙂
