A month ago, my sister died. I miss her terribly. Her death was not unexpected, but then, whose isn’t really? We know it will happen to us all, we just can’t believe it will happen in this lifetime.
And from early on, we live with the hope that after we’re gone, our good influence; our children, our works, our money—some footprint that shows we were here will live on. We call these our legacies.
My sister left a remarkable legacy. She was called Dame Libby, because she was literally honored and coronated so by King Juan Carlos of Spain after decades of teaching hundreds of street kids from Chicago to become classic Spanish dancers. Libby herself was a beautiful Spanish dancer, a choreographer of over l00 pieces, director and founder of an international dance company that continues.
Yesterday, someone contacted me about starting their legacy “before it’s too late.” The call and my sister got me thinking: When’s a legacy too late?
What if we can and do leave “one” every day. Whether we know it or not. It can happen in an unexpected breath.
The other day I left one when I wandered into Holy Juice. It’s a tiny shop in a Plaza off Mulholland drive with one deli, small overpriced but cool shops and usually a local celebrity or two walking around.
The owner, Warren, was young, on fire and charismatic. The juice was out of this world. Wholesome, luscious. His Holy Coffee with raw cacao nibs was ‘sick’. It was fun to drag those nibs through the straw with the whole concoction. Somewhere in between offering even more samples, it slipped out that Warren was a cordon bleu chef. He was open two years and struggling to make it.
That stuck with me. I felt compelled to ask if I could offer him a suggestion. I knew branding but I wasn’t looking for his business. And I wasn’t. We spent some time talking about the power of his being a cordon bleu chef and where that story might be missing in his shop. Everywhere.
Warren thanked me again and again.
“I’m going to use all of this,” he said. It was one of those rare moments when part of my given gift was a missing piece of a young genius’ puzzle.
History decides what’s a legacy or not. And just giving it for fun and for free made my day.
You don’t have to be wealthy enough or old enough to do something now that lives after you leave. Every legacy moment can create a story.
We’re enough. We struggle with not feeling enough in life. And we’re afraid we’re not enough after death.
Thank you for reading