After she died, we found it tucked in the magazine rack next to the recliner, still encased in its wrinkled manila mailing envelope, its crisp pages blank. Her favorite childhood toy, her most embarrassing moment, how she met her husband never recorded. We’d given it to her two years before.
My mother-in-law was the family historian, and we have piles of old photo albums and family tree charts, notes and diagrams tucked in old cookbooks, but she never recorded the stories. 
Some years later, after my father-in-law collapsed with a major heart attack during physical therapy at the nursing home, we asked my husband’s uncle to answer questions in the matching “grandfather remembers” book from his brother’s perspective. He did his best, but sometimes he got confused and told his own story.
My father-in-law did keep a diary, but pretty much limited its entries to the weather, the visited and visitors, what he ate and where. Toward the end he wrote things like “turkey dinner, not good” and “need to get those people out of my house.”
Some years ago, my mom compiled an album with a matching narrative. But yet, so many stories lost. And even though she retold the story during those last weeks, I’m still confused as to how she sent my aunt back to the convent with rum on her breath. I should have written it down.
Several years ago, I bought matching mother and father journals (one for each of our children) with the thought that D and I would sit down daily and write out the answer to one question. The books still stand empty on the shelf. 
And way up on top of my office bookcase, clinging to the ceiling, is a box. I climbed up on my blue rolling office chair (yes, I did) this morning to retrieve it. Inside, pristine and untouched, lay the Hallmark Legacy Keeper my daughter gave me two (three? more?) years ago for Mother’s Day.
I was undone. My throat swelled, and I brimmed.
I don’t want to lose my legacy in musty memories.
I don’t want His salvation stories to pass into the past.
I don’t want my children to find unopened books or cobweb-wrapped boxes on my shelves. 
YES that is why I journal and write, and even have put the blog years into books, so all is not lost.
Someday, when they look back and remember, they will not forget the words.
How did you put your blog years into books? My daughter did this for me (minus photos) http://sandraheskaking.com/2011/01/window-on-writing-ive-been-published/ for Christmas 2010.
I had orders to copy my posts from then on, and I promised to, but I haven’t.
Oh. my. goodness.
This touches into deep, deep places inside me. Places I didn’t know where in there (in here?). . .
And I read your daughter’s letter to you with the Legacy Keeper. She’s right. I’m one of those people whose life is forever changed by your friendship.
Love you, Sandy.
I’d forgotten this letter…
Love you, too.
So powerful isnt it, as we become the ‘eldest generation’ in our families. Who will tell those stories? Who will pass on the legacy? Who will make sure our children remember if not us?
I know you know this, David. We need to make sure so that they make sure.
Oh yes … leaving a legacy is some of the most important work we’ll ever do.
But the hardest work I have done in ten years of counseling is to work with groups of people who are battling with life-threatening illnesses … and equipping them to face their legacies straight on …
http://creeksideministries.blogspot.com/2012/02/legacy-retreat-10.html ll
My eyes begin to fill up just thinking about it …
One of the volunteers at the hospice home my mom was in took on this ministry. Choked me up.
I don’t remember her coming in to talk to my mom while I was there, though I’m suspecting my mom would have not felt she needed her help.
I checked out the link Linda included. Very interesting!
Thanks for the reminder Sandra…I have half filled legacy journals and one for my mom to fill…and journals and scrapbooks that tell part of the story…maybe coming to grip with our middle years means setting aside time to chronicle and savor the stories…we even started a sisters round robin journal one christmas…i need to dust that off…my mom asked about it recently…all four of my sisters and mom will be together on Thanksgiving…the first time in thirty years to have everyone present…looking forward to sharing our stories over coffee and pie
Do it, Kel. Who knows if the time will come you wish you had.
Doing it together like that sounds like a great deal of fun. You should tape the stories. I wish I had.
I wanna know about blog books, too – cause this right here – this blog stuff? This is is it for me. And that’s why I do it, to tell the truth. I’ve with you on wanting to tell the stories, Sandy. And I’m grateful for blog space to do it in.
Yep. Me too.
Years ago I sat on my bedroom floor and ripped up Journal after Journal – all those years in writing. I didn’t want my exposed heart to hurt anyone. I was far too honest I think. Now I self-edit endlessly and have sort of lost the freedom to just write it all out. My Journal is now more of a to-do list. I wish I knew the secret to doing it well – without leaving any hurt hearts in my wake.
And yes, you are very special indeed. I am blessed to know you.
And….okay, we’ll cheer for the Tigers. The Texas teams sort of left of in the lurch 😉
I’ll admit I tore some pages out of mine, and there are still some I’m wondering if I really want read. I surely don’t want to leave any hurt hearts.
So grateful for you, Linda.
Roar!
Oh, the photos alone tell a fabulous story here. The recipe for chicken for 200 – NONE LEFT! A woman after my own heart, recording such details!
But your thoughts have such a sense of passion and urgency. Time flies. Share your stories while you can. What will we leave behind if not these?
I couldn’t get over the thousand people! And how she set up the serving tables.
And did you see? They ran out of hamburger buns at the other event.
My mother-in-law and her friend, as I understand it, started the 4-H food shack at the fair. She had the gift of hospitality.
Such an inspiration, these women (and men, don’t want to overlook them) who have gone before! This post and the long comment section have been so warming and energizing for me to read. Thanks, Sandy.
oh friend, this blog… it is a way of preserving your legacy. but i know what you mean. i can’t think about death for so many reasons, one of them, this. and then i remember, we will all be together again, in heaven, and so, as long as Jesus’ legacy remains behind me, that is what matters. not me, him. because then my children will be reunited (Lord willing) with me, and we’ll live on. love you.
This really hits home with me. I remember many Sunday afternoons, sitting around the kitchen table with relatives, many of whom had fascinating stories I never bothered to listen to until they had taken them to the grave.
And that letter from your daughter? That is a gift! (Especially the last line about not analyzing her typos–priceless!)
Delicious stuff here Sandy! I am challenged and committed!