Substack, Stories & Legacy

How Our Voices Build a Lasting Legacy Plus an End-of-Life Poem

It’s hard to feel the downhill slide in my health, especially now with a diagnosis. I don’t want to spend time there, though. “Oh my gosh, it’s only going to get wooorrrrrse!!!!” (insert face plant here). When I start shuffling (or attempting to trot) down that path, I choose to carry on instead.

But end-of-life things do cross my mind —because I visited heaven, because I cannot be my usual, more-active self, and because I rarely feel my normal anymore. Chronic pain can change your mindset.

Photo by Diego Céspedes Cabrera on Unsplash

So, this week, I considered what I will someday leave behind when I go to heaven to stay.

What Will Be Left Behind?

My books, of course. That was always a given. And part of the reason I write.

But wouldn’t it be nice if my writing, research, and stories about hope and heaven could still encourage people when I leave for good?

It turns out—that can happen.

My website is unlikely to survive much past me. Even if I leave instructions, I would never expect family to keep paying for the domain and hosting forever. I may have had a somewhat Tabitha experience, but I am certainly not Elvis. :-)

Photo by Ross Findon on Unsplash

In Consideration of Legacy

I’ve learned that Substack keeps posts up, unless a family member asks for removal and provides documentation of death. Substack entries may become part of your legacy.¹

Today, I saw a note that someone’s friend won a Pulitzer Prize for their memoir. Wow! That might be something that a family member will screenshot someday for a family record book if one keeps one.

This writer, David Barton, says we don’t have control over our legacy, which I found interesting. He says, So, what will our legacy be? Ultimately, I don’t think that’s for us to say. We can only do our best... Much of the rest is out of our hands.

Perhaps he has a point.

Although this post gets slightly off-color for anyone sensitive, I found this from Steve Knier. When it comes to Legacy, oftentimes repetition and consistency trump “on-off” heroics or accolades…. To boil it down to its essence, I hope I’m remembered simply for: Breathing life into the people and places I cared about.

Beautiful.

I found another post where the person claimed they were choosing not to leave a legacy. Ha Ha.

Nice Try!

Like it or not, we all leave a legacy. And for those of us online, much will be digital. Every post adds to the story we're telling—intentionally or not. So maybe it’s worth pausing before we hit “publish.” Do you really want your now-teen to stumble across that one post where you called them your “greatest life challenge”? Next thing you know, they’re printing it on a T-shirt… and wearing it to your memorial service.

But hey, maybe they’ll mass produce it and make thousands. We can support that!

You can control what people learn about you here, including:

• Changes you sparked

• People you invested in

• Example(s) you set

• Passion you held

• Work you accomplished

• Impact you created

• Goals you finished…or didn’t

• Voice you gave to others

• Values you prioritized…and maybe even why

• Information you want passed on

• History that shouldn’t die

I’m soon teaching a Substack class, and a post’s lifespan here is definitely one of the benefits worth mentioning. Of course, there are many benefits to Substack, but legacy-leaving is not one we hear much about.

"To leave the world a bit better… to know that even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."— Ralph Waldo Emerson

Choose Your Legacy

Although I agree we don’t have complete control over our PR (what people think of us) before or after we die, we do have some influence. And it can start here. Stories cross all traditions and cultures, preserve wisdom, offer hope and companionship, and can even shape cultures.

In addition to posting your moments on Substack, there are numerous other options for preserving the messages you want passed on.

Letters—For many years, my dad wrote a lengthy letter to each of his kids on their birthdays. These are now treasured keepsakes. Why not start this new tradition?

Memoir—Sometimes, people reach what they feel are likely their last years in life and want to save their story for others to benefit from. A book format is suitable for this, especially if it is self-published (don’t pay anyone to do this for you—send me a note if you want to learn more).

Journal—Although I’ve often considered burning my journals and diaries from a tumultuous childhood and teenhood, I hesitate. Whether I like it or not, those stories are part of my family’s history.

Consider some prompts if you don’t want to share stories directly or have trouble thinking of them. These can be added to, so please comment if you have ideas.

• What was your greatest desire as a kid? As an adult?

• What dreams came true for you? What dreams have not yet come true?

• What was the greatest risk you ever took?

• What did you want to be when you grew up?

• What is your career, and why did you choose it?

• What was your favorite workplace, and why?

• What was the best story you remember your folks, or someone older in your family, telling you?

• What was the one story they told you over and over again?

Videos—My sister-in-law did a very selfless and cool thing about six years back. She spent several hours with my dad near his 80th birthday and recorded him telling stories about his life. I’ve never watched it in full, but I know I will want to someday.

You can record yourself. There are online tools to help, which may not last, but StoryCorps is one of the current ideas. You could also record voice recordings on your phone and back them up to a computer.

Note: Get these done before forgetfulness begins—for you or others.

Legacy Preserved

I hope this post helps you think of some things you can preserve while you still can. I hope it saves you embarrassment in future years if someone comes across your Substack. And for those who couldn't care less about the legacy you leave, maybe you will later. Or maybe you won’t. Only time will tell.

My spunky book character Cherie has this advice:

Yeah, I’ve been thinking about legacy. It hits different when your body starts glitching like an old laptop, and you just hope it doesn’t crash before you save your progress. If I croak, I at least want people to say, ‘She made us laugh.’ Or cry. Or think. Or feel. Check, check, check… just go ahead and mark ‘chaotic combo platter’. And preferably not because she posted about her weird rash again. And I want whoever finds my journal…err, Substack, to be emotionally prepared… because wow, it gets weird in there. -Cherie, age 11, Innocent Souls

A Legacy Poem

As the Ripple Goes

When I am gone,
let there be light—
not because I was the sun,
but because I struck a match
and passed the flame.

Let there be laughter
echoing in rooms I’ll never enter again,
carried in the memory
of joy shared freely
when the world felt too heavy to smile.

Let there be stories—
not perfect, but true.
Tales of stumbles and standing again,
of quiet courage, of others first
and the battles no one saw but mattered anyway.

Let there be healing— 
wounds bound, then wrappings awry,
as completeness comes.
And may it crest high,
as it reaches those who lack.

Let the work of my hands
outlive the sound of my voice:
a letter, a book, a post, a poem
a scar mended,
a door held open
for someone walking behind.

But let the ones I love
remember less of what I said
less of what I wrote,
and more of how I persevered
when it would’ve been easier to give up.

Let there be questions
that I dared to ask,
and space left behind
for others to answer them
with their lives.

If I leave anything,
let it be grace—
tucked into corners where shame used to hide,
offered like bread
to anyone hungry for a second chance.

And if my breath
has joined the wind of heaven,
if my hands now rest
in the One who gave them purpose,
then let my absence whisper
not of ending,
but of new life.

Let the legacy be this:
not a monument,
but momentum.
Not a name carved in stone,
but hope etched in hearts
that saw how love can multiply
when given away.

When I am gone,
let it not be silence.
But a soft, steady wave—
swell meeting shore
for hands I never held,
fingers I never encountered,
faces I never saw,
lives I never knew,
but somehow still reached.

Please let my stories be told—
as the ripple goes.

*****
Legacy’s Ink (Cherie-style)

Legacy’s ink—
not the fancy kind,
more like cocoa stains
on the margins you find.

Old books crackle,
like grandma’s sneezes,
holding secrets
and a few weird cheeses.

We scribble wild,
we doodle weird—
leave a bookmark,
or a pizza smear.

And through the mess,
the chaos, the cheer,
our goofy stories
still linger here.
 

1. Please keep in mind that this could change in the future, but it is accurate as of this writing.