Over the past few months, I’ve been thinking a great deal about legacy.
After losing both of my parents not long ago, I’ve found myself reflecting on what truly endures. Not just accomplishments or milestones, but the quieter things we pass down without fully realizing it.
Grief has a way of sharpening that question.
Rediscovering Joy
Then, last weekend, something small and joyful offered an unexpected answer.
I had the joy of spending time with my daughter and her family celebrating my granddaughter’s second birthday.
If you’ve ever spent time with a two-year-old, you know they are masters of presence. Everything is fascinating. Everything is funny. Everything is worth laughing about.
And she made me laugh – the deep, genuine, can’t-help-yourself kind of laughter.
In that moment, nothing about my grief changed. Nothing about the world felt different.
But I did.
I felt lighter.
More present.
More like myself again.
Sometimes legacy looks like laughter.
The Legacy We Don’t Plan
When we think about legacy, we often think in big terms – careers, achievements, traditions, financial security, or the values we intentionally teach.
But I’m beginning to believe legacy is also built in smaller, quieter ways.
It’s in the way we show up.
The way we love.
The way we respond to life when it’s difficult.
The way we create safe spaces for joy.
It’s in birthday afternoons and shared laughter that a child may not consciously remember one day – but will feel in her sense of belonging.
My parents lived long lives. They both died at 93. Their longevity has me thinking differently about time – about how many more years of influence, connection, and presence may still be ahead of me.
And how I want to spend them.
Not just productively.
Not just responsibly.
But joyfully.
At this stage of life, I believe we have more agency than we sometimes acknowledge. We may not control everything that happens to us, but we do get to decide how we move through it – and what kind of emotional atmosphere we create around us.
That, too, becomes part of our legacy.
Joy Is Something We Pass Down
As women over 60, many of us stand in a powerful place between generations – holding memories behind us and possibility in front of us.
We can’t control everything our children or grandchildren will face.
But we can pass down resilience.
Warmth.
Perspective.
And joy.
We can model what it looks like to grieve and still laugh.
To face uncertainty and still choose presence.
To carry sorrow – and still allow light in.
Joy is not denial. It’s strength.
And when a two-year-old laughs freely in your arms, you realize how contagious that strength can be.
A Gentle Invitation
This week, I’m holding onto one simple truth:
Small joy moments don’t erase hard things – they help us carry them.
And perhaps more importantly, they help shape the emotional climate of our families.
The tone we bring into a room.
The steadiness we offer in uncertainty.
The laughter we allow to bubble up.
Those are not small things.
They are living, breathing expressions of legacy.
Sometimes the most meaningful legacy isn’t something we leave behind.
It’s something we embody – one joyful moment at a time.
If You’re in a Reflective Season Too, I’d Love to Ask:
When was the last time you laughed deeply and freely? What small moments of joy are present in your life right now? How do you want to be remembered – not just for what you did, but for how you made others feel? What emotional atmosphere are you creating in this season of your life?