What Will Endure Past Us?

I recall having a vision of the then soon-to-be-departed Steve Irwin about a month before his death—I mentioned his example in the past tense (as if he were already dead) as impetus for a business plan. How surprised I came to be when I learned of his actual passing!

I find it quite bizarre that some of the people I might have once admired (or even envied in the healthiest way) have now since died; that for the fact of the time they were alive during my lifetime—and for the amazing, famed things they achieved—doesn’t somehow make up for the fact they’re now dead, yet I remain. Death is a grand equaliser.

I’ve said it many times before; considering our deaths gives us reason and motivation for living life and thus it’s an important undertaking. What will life be like once we’re gone?

Another way of looking at it; what will endure past us? I thought of the following:

è The music we listen to. It will be played long after we’re gone.

è Our words and some of our deeds will continue to have impact post-death.

è Our possessions. Yes, they’ll all go to someone else—all of them.

è The day. The day after we breathe our last—this will remain. And the day after that too and so forth.

è Basically everything we currently see and many things we don’t see.

è The legacy we leave, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem.

è Hope for others to find what we’ve perhaps found spiritually—hope remains until their final day.

è Our debts and other bad stuff like rubbish tips and landfills.

è Family members who have to survive us (without our help), not to mention the grief and the fact they’ll forever live without us once we’re gone. We’ll only be a memory.

è Opportunities remain for others that no longer remain for us; opportunities to do today that which are now gone forever for us who’re departed—these remain for those left.

We miss a lot in life. Now’s the time to dig deeply into realities that may prove life-transforming by virtue of knowledge of the truths most people never really ever think about.

© S. J. Wickham, 2009.