I don’t know about you, but I seem to be living a unique life. As a recent level forty-five human, I am single, childless and professionally unattached. That sounds like I’m unemployed, but I own a small business, and primarily answer to myself. At the beginning of 2023 I had a partial hysterectomy which sent me down a beautiful path of self-reflection and contemplation of the concept of “legacy”.
Starting with my patrinial roots of yore, I’m having a grand old time tapping into my Jewish heritage, emotionally re-connecting with my grandparents. But I made an uncomfortable discovery. Although I don’t feel a sense of loss being without biological children, both of my preceding ancestral lines are coming to an end. No more “Me’s”. I could almost feel my Irish and Jewish ancestors stacking up behind me, wondering what I had done with the gift they had given. All that time at sea, all those potatoes, and all that suffering.
My friends and I had a great opportunity to visit Europe in 2019, and in a “bucket list item” we toured a Nazi work camp called Sachsenhausen, in Germany. This experience is difficult to articulate and quantify, but I felt an odd contrast of fulfillment and irresolution. I looked around at the beautiful trees, realizing they were living off the remains of past individuals. Every cell in Germany seems to be saturated with this horror, life-force and acknowledgement. It felt strange to realize that many had not even been “released” as they remained buried in the ground of their own internment, forever enslaved, while I calmly exited the gates that proclaim “work sets you free”. I reflected on the pictures of all the hollow eyes that I’ve seen in many Holocaust museums, and the sheer number of losses in every country. Thousands upon thousands. For this reason, in the culture of Judaism, longevity, bloodlines and tradition are obviously a big deal. We’ve already lost so many, it seems a shame as an only child to have dropped the ball. A small part of me had failed. My grandpa was displeased, perhaps. All that work. All that talent. All that heart. And here it ends.
But, while wrestling with the inescapable truth, I started to hear some quiet reminders. Perhaps the hopes and dreams of those many ancestors are coming to fruition in me. I am the evolution and the culmination of everything that came before me. The tapestry of humanity is interwoven for all time. None of us are alone. And while my family tree might stop growing up, it continues to put down roots and expand sideways with other families and other stories, including my own. The real legacy I can leave is through individualism, volunteerism, teaching and relationship. Ultimately it’s up to God and humanity what they decide to do with it and it’s a blessing I can give for the rest of my life.
Again, no perfect bow. As always it’s nice to sit with the emotion before proclaiming it conquered. But it feels good to say out loud. No more “Me’s”. Just more stories, more love and more legacy.
