Image description: A close up photo of two women's faces from the nose up set against a sunset.
“Legacy!?
What legacy!?
My life's had no meaning, no lasting impact”
This was the response I received during a recent interview with someone approaching their end of life – an utterance that has haunted me ever since. Because the more death work I do, the more uncomfortable I’ve become with the way the concept of legacy is typically portrayed in conventional death preparation work.
In my experience, the concept of “legacy” is often framed in terms of one’s lasting impact or influence someone leaves behind after they’ve died, usually measured by their life’s work, values, and material contributions.
Legacy is also framed as a motivator, as something we should all be encouraged by to think long-term about the meaning of our lives, and the impact of our actions on others. Legacy is often associated with concepts like honour, reputation, purpose, and how an individual or community aspires (or should aspire) to be remembered.
And why does this need to be changed?
To begin, the idea of leaving a “legacy” can be problematic for people who have experienced poverty, addiction, and/or mental health struggles. The focus on achievement, material success, and accomplishments deprives so many people from seeing ourselves as worthy of a “legacy”.
For many survival and meeting basic needs must be the primary focus of their lives, making traditional legacy-building exercises inaccessible, distressing even.
I have witnessed family members struggling to speak positively of a loved one who died from accidental overdose, or died by suicide. Their own deep seated shame from the stigmatization and discrimination both addiction and mental health are shrouded in leaves so many to feel at a loss as to where to begin to story their loved one's legacy.
People with these experiences (and their families) may feel excluded from the idea of a “positive legacy.” Instead of being seen as resilient or overcoming adversity, attempting to survive in systems that deny so much to too many, many fear being remembered only for their challenges or missteps.
Internalized shame, trauma, or feelings of unworthiness can make it difficult to think about leaving something of value behind. The legacy conversation can feel like added pressure to “redeem” their lives or prove their worth, which can be painful and counterproductive
Now, what if ...
What if instead, we reframe legacy in terms of our lived experiences, relationships, the lessons we’ve learned, our regrets, and the advice we wish to share onward, we invite ourselves—and those we leave behind—to see legacy as a reflection of our humanity.
As an officiant, I remind loved ones when I am preparing a ceremony for their loved ones who may have struggled while living, it’s about capturing the truth of our journey: the ways we’ve endured, the (dis)connections that have shaped us, and the choices that have given us insight and perspective. This kind of legacy work isn’t about (re)creating lives storied as perfection to ring hollow – it’s about honoring the beauty in each person’s inherent worthiness. It’s an invitation to share our lives with one another as they truly were—the joy, the struggle, and everything in between—so that those who come after us feel both seen and supported in their own journeys.
As a doula and an officiant, I’ve seen how meaningful it can be to capture what a person valued most, beyond the material and the measurable.
Legacy work from this perspective means asking different questions: What have we learned about the power of generous kindness? Who helped us understand what courage really means? Where have we faltered, and how did we find our way again? How did you look for glimmers in the darkness? What was most surprising to you about your life?
A legacy built on resilience is one that says, “Yes, life is brutally and unfairly hard, and we are stronger together.”
A legacy centered on empathy reassures us, “We are all worthy of compassion.”
And a legacy rooted in authenticity reminds us that our true selves, imperfect and evolving, are enough.
It brings me comfort to consider leaving a legacy that’s about connection and wisdom, one that echoes true to the people we love and the communities we care for. Let's reimagine "legacy" as the colourful stories of who we really were/are - let's leave behind something far more lasting than our accomplishments—a sense of our shared humanity.
