Mortality

I’m at 39,000 feet, flying at 582 mph, and I have thoughts of my mortality. It’s not as if I’m contemplating my death. It’s not that I wonder about the afterlife, if there even is one. It’s not as if I wonder about what will happen to my friends or family after I’m gone. What I wonder is if in ten or fifty or a hundred fifty years I’ll be remembered. I mean, what is the legacy I leave behind.

I am very grateful to have a son and with all my hopes and prayers I want him to have a family, to carry on the 'Twigg' name, but generations from now, when my grave site is no longer visited by people that once knew me or even those who might think they have, what do I leave behind. Currently I leave nothing. I leave hopes and dreams of being a writer. I leave a series of stories which may exist only as printed copies on a family shelf or stored away in an attic. I leave time and tears on paper, but in reality I leave nothing. At least right now that’s all I have.

For all intents and purposes, I am a ‘nobody’. I work, I live, and I try to fulfill my personal life goals while taking care of my family and a few dear friends as best I can. I love, I shed tears, and I yearn to be more, to do more, for the world, but I am only one person. I am a cog in the wheel of time doing my part as minutes turn to hours which eventually turn to years, but nothing great comes from me. I do not enact significant changes. I do not alter the world around me more than anyone else. I do not inspire anyone to be better, to achieve more, than what I have. I simply exist.

Do I want more? My answer to that is everyone wants more. Everyone wants their five minutes of fame. Everyone wants to be a part of history. Everyone wants to leave a legacy. The reality, however, is that very few of us do and even then I wonder for how long. Will I be remembered tomorrow if I was to disappear today.

This is not to say I can’t be more or do more or create more than the next person, but then whose memory do I snuff out in my own selfish act on importance.

If all men (or women) are created equal, then shouldn’t we all become a part of history. Shouldn’t we all be remembered for something we did no matter how large or small. Shouldn’t we all leave a legacy just for being alive. That’s all, that's it, that's all we need. Our existence should be enough for each and every one of us to be remembered. But that’s not reality.

Reality dictates we are insignificant. Reality dictates one in a million will be remembered ten years from now. One in a billion fifty years from now. One in a trillion a hundred fifty years from now. And let me say this, I don’t plan to be any one of those. I am just one of the masses, like you.

All I truly want, all I care about, is that my legacy lives far longer than I do because without my son I would be nothing.

For that, I can be forgotten.