Yesterday I heard several tough stories. In those stories, there was death. It wasn’t just the typical older person who may have died peacefully of old age story. These stories about death were powerful reminders that our existence has a purpose much greater than ourselves. While I could go on to tell you about these stories, what came up for me as I listened to those stories was family.

Multiple years ago, I was invited to a business meeting to meet the new owners of a company I represented. I had represented this company on two separate occasions with different employers and knew the original owner and founder fairly well. There were approximately 75 people from across the country and from around the world present to find out about the new products they were about to represent. Out of all those present, there were just three of us from the old days—the original founder and owner, me, and my old boss. We ended up sitting next to each other during the presentation. As the product lines were being introduced to the manufacturers’ representatives, I kept watch of the man who had just sold his company. I had wonderment about how he was feeling to have built up this company over a 25-year span and now watch it all go away right in front of him. It wasn’t going to be the same way. It was going to be the new way.

During lunch, there was a moment when it was just me and the former owner of the company sitting next to each other. There was enough space in the conference room that we could talk without others overhearing our conversation. I took that moment to ask the former owner just how he felt about watching his business go into the hands of another.

I asked him, “So how does it feel to leave your legacy behind?” He quipped, “Legacy?” “My business was no ******* legacy!” “That was just a business I built.” “Your legacy is your family!”

Since then, I have developed a theory about legacies. You have to want to catch them.

My aunt and uncle are examples that I have who left a legacy behind for me to catch. The number one thing my aunt and uncle taught me was to love the Lord. As I write, chills run through me.

My uncle just passed away in March 2023. He lived a full life to the extended age of 95. He outlived my aunt by 16 years.

As far back as I can remember, he was always at our house for Thanksgiving and Christmas. As a matter of fact, he was always there. He was there for everything: birthdays, graduations, and any special event that we had, which included parties and just plain old family gatherings. I specifically remember him being there to help us move into our new house just before my father passed.

After my father passed, my uncle cared for me in ways that I did not understand as love as a child. Some key memories that pop up are:

• Trombone lessons that ultimately failed due to my lack of sticking with it.
• He was at the house often to help with things my Mom and 2 young children just couldn’t do.
• He taught me how to mow the lawn on a riding tractor. You put one wheel on the tire track you can see from the lane you just cut. That way you don’t miss anything.
• He taught me how to vacuum correctly. It’s just like mowing the lawn!

I am sure I got some work ethic from him also. I did work with him quite a bit over the years.

When I arrived at the funeral home, my cousin was standing at the door. He greeted me, and we talked about his father’s last few days. It was good to know that my uncle did not have much if any pain in his final days. After I talked with my cousin for a little while, I made my way to my uncle’s casket. Of course, I could see it was him, but a dead body at a viewing never does justice to the person you know. I thanked him for being there for me and my family, said my prayers to thank God, and took a few minutes to just stand there with him by myself for the very last time. I then made my way around the room to see the rest of my family.

My uncle had the opportunity to write his own obituary and plan his own funeral. The opening of the service included a description of my uncle. The Pastor used this phrase to describe him: “He was a man of few words.” I completely identified with that phrase. As a child and an adult, I would not have told you that I was close with my uncle. I felt much closer to my aunt. However, I always knew that my uncle cared for me. I just never understood his way. There were stories that were shared and of course music because that was my uncle’s thing. Interestingly enough, I learned things about my uncle that I never knew. The most interesting thing I did not know about both my aunt and uncle is they had gone to Ghana on a mission trip.

While I did shed a few tears, the service was oddly comforting to me.

I was given the honor of being a pallbearer for my uncle. There was quite a chilly wind at the cemetery. It was a cold, brisk sunny day. As we lined up to remove the casket from the funeral coach, I was the only one smart enough to bring a hat. A bright yellow hat. Comments were flying. “The guy from the south is the only one who prepared for the chill in the north.” “Can you make the hat any brighter?” I then had to explain to everyone how a southern hat is much warmer than a northern hat. Because, my hat came from the south where it is warmer!

About a week later, I received a text from a close family friend who knew my uncle as well as many of my relatives. She asked me how my uncle’s funeral was. Here was my response. “My uncle’s funeral was nice. Strange to say I actually enjoyed his funeral. He planned it, and it was really nice.”

Upon reflection: I enjoyed my uncle’s funeral? I didn’t know you could enjoy a funeral. I have never experienced such a thing. After some more thought, a funeral is a celebration of life. So I ask myself, why can’t one enjoy a funeral? A celebration of life is supposed to be an enjoyable experience. After all, that is what anyone would want. They would want you to celebrate that they lived a life for Jesus and they are now in heaven with HIM. What more could you ask for?

My uncle demonstrated to me what a legacy should look like. I didn’t know he was doing that. I am grateful to be able to say that I was able to catch it. So I ask. What does your legacy look like? Who may have left you a legacy to catch? How did it impact you?

WILL YOU LEAVE A LEGACY?