Living Eternal

I lit a candle for my father today. His memorial service was a year ago today, and sometimes it feels much longer than that. Even though the memory of his passing grows fainter as each day drifts on, I will always remember what it meant to be his daughter.

This is the legacy of parenthood. There is so much of our heart that keeps beating after the day that we die. It beats in the chests of our children, in our traditions, our hopes, our fears -- whatever part of ourselves we choose to leave behind. Will it be your love of music you pass on? Your talent for turning out the most perfect meatloaf this side of the Mississippi? Your passion for Pottery Barn? Will your daughter draw roses like you do? Will your son drive with your lead foot? Or will it be something different -- your lack of patience, your unfinished dreams, your regrets. Every day we have this choice. Our children will remember it all, the good and the bad, but we will always live with the guilt. And we will become distant parents because of it.

I know this because I experienced it. It was my father's legacy. His sadness and anger at the unfairness of life prevented him from truly sharing his soul. I know it is difficult to admit your mistakes and stand in front of your child in naked, shivering honesty, but it is what makes us real. It is what makes us good.

It is what makes us parents.