“One lives in the hope of becoming a memory.” – Antonio Porch
We may not spend our time consciously trying to live a life worth remembering, but I imagine many of us would like to mean enough to someone that we become a memory. A good memory.
I think the people who become the best memories never really give it much thought at all. They’re too busy living their lives and impacting ours by being themselves.
My best friend’s grandmother passed away recently. She was 99 and then some. A real Spitfire. The sort of woman who reminded me a great deal of my own grandmother.
I wasn’t able to attend her memorial service, but my friend was asked to say a few words. He hadn’t prepared anything, but as is his way he rose to the occasion and delivered a very thoughtful and sincere eulogy. He was later asked to write down what he had said for a few members of the family who weren’t there and he shared his words with me this past weekend.
I’d like to share what he wrote here in tribute to his grandmother especially, but also in tribute to him.
To those people who touch our lives. Family and friends who shape us just by being themselves. The people who become memories to us and who aspire us to become memories of our own.
I am a rich man. Perhaps not measured in the way that others may measure it with money or fame, but rich in memories.