Death and Legacy: What Truly Matters
Lately, I’ve been consumed by thoughts of death and legacy. It’s not just a fleeting curiosity—it’s become a recurring theme in my writing, too. Turns out, I’m not alone. A friend of mine—let’s call him Malone—called me two days ago, his voice heavy with something he couldn’t quite articulate.
“Saviour, what’s up? I’m scared. I can’t sleep.”
“Why?” I asked, concerned.
“I had a thought today. It’s been haunting me. I’ve never considered it before, and I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
“Alright,” I said, trying to steady him. “What was the thought?”
“Dude, I’m 21. What happens if I die today? If I go to bed and don’t wake up, what will I be remembered for? What will be my legacy?”
Silence.
What do you say to that? I’ve never had a satisfying answer to questions like these. Honestly, I don’t think anyone does. Humanity has wrestled with the meaning of death and legacy for as long as we’ve understood what it means to die.
Legacy is a strange word. I’m not even sure of its dictionary definition (you should look it up when you’re done reading this), 1 but I know what it entails. When we stare death in the face, the only things that matter are the things that truly mattered all along.
I believe legacy is about leaving behind what actually matters—not what you think should matter or what others say ought to matter. It’s about authenticity. Imagine death were a person, holding you at gunpoint, saying: “What are the three things that truly matter to you? If you lie, you die.”
How honest would you be with yourself?
For some people, it’s money. And that’s okay to admit. For others, it’s family, spirituality, kindness, or something else entirely. Legacy isn’t one-size-fits-all; it’s deeply personal.
I told Malone something I’ve come to believe: Judgement Day won’t be some divine tribunal—it’ll be us judging ourselves, reckoning with how we truly lived. And let’s be real: no one is harder on us than ourselves.
Legacy isn’t about society’s expectations or what others think you should leave behind. It’s about stripping away the noise and focusing on what genuinely matters to you. If you can figure that out, you’ve already won.
Here’s the thing: 100 years from now, only a tiny fraction of humanity will be remembered by anyone, and even then, only vaguely. Most of us will fade into obscurity. Think about it—how many notable people from the past century can you name? Probably ten, maybe twenty. Now go back 200 years. It gets harder, doesn’t it?
Does that mean striving for legacy is pointless? Not at all. It just means legacy isn’t about how long you’re remembered or how many people know your name. True legacy is the impact you make while you’re here, on the people who matter to you. It’s defined by you, not by the generations that come after.
Humanity thanks you, even when it forgets your name.
According to Merriam-Webster, the word legacy has several meanings:
A gift by will, especially of money or other personal property; a bequest.
Example: "She left us a legacy of a million dollars."
Something transmitted by or received from an ancestor, predecessor, or the past.
Example: "The legacy of the ancient philosophers."
Example: "The war left a legacy of pain and suffering."
A candidate for membership in an organization (such as a school or fraternal order) who is given special status because of a familial relationship to a member.
Example: "Legacies, or children of alumni, are three times more likely to be accepted to Harvard than other high school graduates with the same (sometimes better) scores." —Michael Lind
Awesome read! Looking forward to more