The Gift of Saying Thank You

After 40-plus years in the public school system, “Mrs. Rosen,” my long-ago fifth grade teacher had retired. This was the gist of the Facebook message I recently received from Mrs. Rosen’s daughter, who attended the same school where her mother taught and somehow remembered my name more than three decades later. Mrs. Rosen, it seemed, was ambivalent about retiring, and her daughter was creating a scrapbook – with contributions from former students, parents, and colleagues – to present as a surprise in September, the first fall in nearly half a century when her mother wouldn’t be in a classroom.

“Would you like to contribute a page?” her daughter asked.

“Absolutely,” I responded. Mrs. Rosen was one of those teachers who made a difference in the lives of her students and I was happy to have the opportunity to say thank you.

As I sat down to write my note and pull together a few photos, so many memories came back to me … none of which, ironically enough, were academic. I have no idea what state-mandated lessons I took in during fifth grade, but I know Mrs. Rosen taught our class to love books. I know she made writing fun. I know she made me feel smart.

Mrs. Rosen’s daughter responded with an effusive “thank you” when she received my contribution. “It’s fantastic!” she wrote. “My mom will love this!”

And I hope she’s right. I hope Mrs. Rosen appreciates what I wrote. But the truth is I feel certain that I am the real benefactor of this experience. So often you hear people say that they wish they could go back and thank a special teacher. We want to raise our hand, as adults now, and tell them we are better people today because they cared. We want to “close the loop” with those who made a difference in our lives.

I was lucky. Mrs. Rosen’s daughter came to me. She gave me a gift that I had no immediate plans to give myself, truth be told. When you write your life story, you give yourself this same gift. You give yourself the opportunity to recall the teachers, mentors, family, and friends in your life who played a part in shaping the person you grew to be.

It's a gift you can keep for yourself – or, better yet, forward along when your book is complete.

Tell them how it all turned out.

The Ease of Writing

When I was a kid, I would slip notes under my mom’s bedroom door when I wanted to share something with her that I didn’t want to say out loud. If I was angry, I’d write a note. If I was upset, I’d write a note. I was more emotional in my Mother’s Day cards than I ever was in person. Writing my feelings was easier than speaking them.

That’s the case for a lot of people, actually. Because the truth is, even as adults, we feel vulnerable when we voice our innermost thoughts. We may feel awkward or exposed. And as a result, some of us choose to remain silent.

Today, as a personal historian who helps people write their memoirs, I know that many go through their entire lives without sharing the most intimate parts of themselves with those they love. Their feelings for family, their hopes, their fears, their disappointments, their successes. What brought them the most pain, the most joy, the most regret, the most pride. These most sacred feelings stay unspoken because … well because speaking them is not always easy. Or comfortable.

But writing them? Well, that’s a different story. When you write, you are able to share at your own pace, phrase things “just so,” go back and review what you’ve divulged after a period away. For those who find exposing their private thoughts to be unnerving, there is a buffer in writing. The truth is there, but there is a time-delay in transmission. For some, writing feels easier.

If you’re one of those people, honor the feelings you’ve kept buried deep in your heart. Don’t let these most treasured gems of who you are go unspoken – or unwritten.

Write your story. Let your family in.

Growth through Research

A client of mine is in the process of writing the story of her father’s (extraordinary) life. As her father passed away decades ago, my client was desperate to preserve his memory and help her children and grandchildren understand and appreciate the truth of their amazing family history.

But my client ran into a stumbling block early in the process. While she had a few anecdotes to tell, many of her recollections were vague, as her dad had died when she was just a young girl. Memories were disjointed and confusing, and she wasn’t sure how to proceed. In an effort to develop the story, my client turned to her sister for her own remembrances.

Not surprisingly, the sister had her own tales to tell, and they set up a time to talk. And so one night, the sisters, now living in different states, spoke on the telephone at length, sharing secret details of their childhood. Each learned new, vital information about the father they knew for too-short a period of time and strengthened their understanding of their sibling. Each sister, they discovered, had been impacted by their father in significant, yet previously unspoken, ways.

My client’s work is not done. She is still in the process of writing the first draft, in fact, but rewards of her efforts have already been realized.

We all think about the stories we want to preserve for our children. We believe that writing our family history will enlighten our descendants. But in truth, we as authors learn during the process of writing as well. In an effort to educate our children, we do our research, we speak to our family, we sift through boxes and junk drawers.

We learn for ourselves. And we deepen our relationships.

And all this, before the first word is even written.

The Big Picture

My 11-year-old son is at sleep-away camp this week.

Boy is it quiet.

There’s such a remarkable difference in our home, and it makes me think about what it will be like down the road when Evan is older and out of the house for good. It also makes me realize, again, how quickly time passes and how you define your life today may have little to do with the reality of tomorrow.

Helping people write their personal histories, and thinking back on my own, reminds me that life really is a story. With shifts and detours and curves and dead ends. Some chapters are pretty tough to get through and some make you laugh out loud.

This understanding is such a blessing, when you think about it. Little is forever and each page brings the chance for change – internal and external. But in reality, in our everyday lives, we forget this truth. We get caught up in today. We view ourselves, our success, and our failures by today’s yardstick. We lose perspective.

Writing your life story helps you see the big picture. All the experiences, all the relationships, all the hills and valleys. And it helps your readers – often children and grandchildren – see the big picture too. By writing your story, you remind your family that life is long and varied. You give them perspective.

Such a valuable gift.

Evan will be home in just a few days and the quiet will disappear.  

At least for a while.

What We Leave Behind

In addition to her will and legal documents, my grandmother left behind a handwritten note when she died several years ago. It listed her most precious jewelry items and to whom she wanted each piece to go. At the bottom of the paper was a brief statement about her love for all of us. The value of that statement, to me, was far more important than the bracelet I was bequeathed.

I didn’t know it at the time, but my grandmother’s note, as brief as it was, has a name. In today’s jargon, it’s known as an “ethical will” or “legacy letter.” And, as I learned at a workshop a couple months ago, these documents are becoming more and more popular as people of all ages consider what they want to leave behind for their children and grandchildren.

Before the workshop I was fuzzy on the meaning and purpose of an ethical will. Then I heard this definition: “As a traditional will includes wishes for the transfer of financial and concrete items, an ethical will outlines the intangibles of your life: your beliefs, wishes, and values.”

But ethical wills need not be limited in what they discuss. Many documents also mention:

• Life lessons
• Dreams
• Asking for and giving of forgiveness
• Love for family
• Spirituality
• Blessings for future generations

It’s important to keep in mind that ethical wills are not legal documents. While they can include burial and philanthropic preferences, they are not legally binding and should not be approached as such.

Still, the value of these personal notes cannot be overstated. According to research conducted by The Journal of Financial Planning, “Non-financial leave-behinds, such as ethics, morality, faith, and religion, are 10 times more important than the financial aspects of a legacy transfer.”

Further, it is not just recipients who benefit from ethical wills. According to one study, 81 percent of those who drafted an ethical will felt better after the experience (two percent felt worse, and 12 percent reported no change). Those with troubled familial relationships reported a stronger sense of peace, and all participants felt that they were able to think about the positives in their lives and the lessons they’ve learned.

The benefits of writing an ethical will are clear and yet many put it off until it’s too late. If you’re on the fence yourself, consider this: How much would a letter to you from your grandmother or grandfather be worth?

Priceless, I bet.

Take the time. You won’t regret it.