Are You Ready? How to Build a Legacy to Die For

ARE YOU READY? HOW TO BUILD A LEGACY TO DIE FOR

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Reviews
Forward
Prologue
Introduction

Part One: Legacy

Your Life is Your Legacy
The Legacy of Love
The Legacy of Hard Work
The Legacy of Resilience
The Legacy of Laughter
The Legacy of Encouragement
The Legacy of Peace
The Legacy of Art
The Legacy of Trust
The Legacy of Education
The Legacy of Faith
The Legacy of Friendship
The Legacy of Shedding
The Legacy of Mentorship
The Legacy of Family Traditions

PART TWO: DEATH. AND DYING

Working Towards a Good Death
Our Changing Views: Is Death a Grim or Gentle Reaper
Life After Death?

PART THREE: THE DEATH PREPPERS WORKBOOK

The Time to Start Prepping is Now
Death Prepper’s Goal Setting Guide
Having a Family Discussion
Your Last Will and Testament: Where Do Your Valuables Go?
Letter of Intent/Instruction
Getting Rid of Your Other Stuff
Healthcare Directives
Organ Donation
Do You Want a Party or Living Wake?
Writing Your Obituary
Selecting Your Obituary and Memorial Service (Funeral) Pictures
Where Will My Remains Remain?
What Do You Want on Your Tombstone?
Funeral Planning: Acknowledging Your Appointment With Death
Funeral Recipes
Memorial Playlist
Death Prepper’s Emotional Help for Survivor’s Checklist
The Tasks of Mourning
Documenting Your Family History
Legacy Questionnaire: Organizing Your Thoughts
Video Interviews or Legacy Document Proposed Questions
Legacy Books Focused on One Particular Person
The Grateful But Not Yet Dead Tour
Legacy Letters and Legacy Love Letters
Reconciliation Letters
Apology Letters
You Can Do This

PROLOGUE

It was a very small card featuring a muted pink rose in full bloom. The inside inscription was simple: “All my love, always, Mom.” There was a $5 bill inside, one-third of my mom’s net worth. My sister Mindy and brother Mike received an identical card, each written shortly before my kind, loving, beautiful mother took her life away from us.

I was seventeen. We lost her the first time when I was six, and she was institutionalized for what is now known as bipolar disease. We lost her the second time three months later when, after my dad refused to give us back to her, she collapsed into despair, and was institutionalized again. This time for life. The card was all that remained of her. Or so I thought.

Anything good I had become, I became because of my mother. She loved me unconditionally. She taught me I could do anything. She gave me my faith. Even though my life after six contained none of those affirmations, six years of love was enough to learn that I was enough. How lucky was I?

We are, all of us, going to die one day. Yet we live in a culture that denies death. We can hardly say the word. We work very hard to do everything possible to stay alive as long as possible, yet we do very little to prepare for what I believe is our most important job: to make ready those that we love to continue without us.

Individuals well prepared will have their Last Will and Testament in place and provide a clear financial plan for their families. The even better prepared will have a Health Care Directive or Living Will in place to help guide their loved ones through their final days. Yet, how many of us leave a clear message to the most important people in our lives that we love them, we are proud of them, they are strong, and they are enough? I hope this book will serve as a guide to help assist our families and others important in our lives for the time when we are no longer physically able to comfort, love, and encourage them.

INTRODUCTION

We live in a chaotic, uncontrolled, and even scary world, but simultaneously beautiful, full of love, and joy. It is filled with people who are educated and uneducated, tall and short, colorful, beautiful, and nice or not so nice. There exists good and evil on our bewildering planet, and occasionally it is hard to know the difference. Some cultures live together and work together well, and some don’t. There are wars, economic uncertainties, and global pandemics. There are also spectacular sunsets, dazzling beaches, and awe-inspiring rainforests.

Throughout this immense 197,060,800 square mile irregularly shaped ellipsoid (really–according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the earth is not exactly round), and for its eight billion (and counting) people, we all share two things. At some point, every one of us experienced the incredible miracle of birth, and at some point, we will also experience the ultimate certainty of death. This book is designed to help you make the maximum use of the time in between.

Part one of this book is devoted to examining affirmatory endowments you can leave behind, such as love, education, and a positive work ethic. You will meet incredible people who have left legacies of hope, resilience, and love that lasted multiple generations. Some of these stories will be hard to read as the greatest legacies and the greatest hopes are frequently born from horrific pain.

Part two looks at the process of death itself and your choices at the end of life. We will also explore some research on Near Death Experiences (NDEs) and ask, “Is this life all there is for us?” with the understanding that beliefs on this topic differ.

Part three of this book focuses on getting ready to transition by leaving your loved ones prepared to move forward after you have died. We will provide a list of things you can do to help them take care of your affairs and also what you can do now to leave them as emotionally ready as possible to live without you.

Unfortunately, many of us wait until we have a terminal diagnosis before we start working on these tasks, which adds additional stress to an already stressful time. Why not get this out of the way now? Part three also explores the concept of legacy and gratitude letters, which can be written and sent today or included in your legacy folder to be delivered after your death. You are never too young to write a gratitude letter.

Consider this book a hardcopy, life-coaching plan focusing on ending well. As Maya Angelou once said, “You have no idea what your legacy will be because your legacy is every life you touch.”

 
PART ONE: LEGACY

YOUR LIFE IS YOUR LEGACY

There isn’t time, so brief is life, for bickerings, apologies, heartburnings, calling to account. There is only time for loving, and but an instant, so to speak, for that.
—Mark Twain

Every legacy is unique to the individual. We are all shaped by the location of our birth, our parents’ character, the time we are born, the faith (or lack thereof) in which we are born, the people we encounter, and our genetic idiosyncrasies. We learn as we grow, we experience joy and pain at different levels, and our sense of self is molded year over year by our interactions with those around us. The good news is that every one of us, no matter the personal circumstances we find ourselves in now, can pass on a positive legacy. We can also pass on the negative legacies of shame, toxic guilt, fear, anger, and low sense of self. These characteristics frequently start in childhood when our view of the world and our part in it is forming. Abuse, neglect, and harsh judgments of children can lead to adverse outcomes, such as mental illness or destructive behaviors, that last a lifetime. Our relationship with our spouse is modeled to our children, and our parenting style can sometimes be traced back to the legacy left by our parents.

One of the best examples of someone who transformed from leaving negative legacies such as crime and abandonment to positive legacies focused on helping wayward or absentee fathers fix themselves and their families is John Turnipseed (see Legacy of Mentorship). His book Bloodline: You Spend Enough Time in Hell You Get the Feeling You Belong is a must read for anyone caught in the trap of addiction or crime and in need of redemption.

No matter your history, tomorrow is another day. I am a firm believer in redemption. Every one of us has the potential to leave a positive legacy that is bigger than ourselves. We can start right now!

We can’t change our past or our parents’ pasts; we can only control the opportunities we have today to improve things. We are all capable of showing love and kindness to those around us, no matter the circumstances. We can also build a beautiful legacy for ourselves by cementing those positive virtues inwardly, into our own hearts. Creating a positive legacy is a phenomenal win-win situation for those who provide it and those who receive it.

Also, building legacies is best done without fanfare. Samuel Butler once said, “When you have told someone you have left him a legacy, the only decent thing to do is die at once.” Don’t die before your time; just build your legacy quietly! We leave a legacy with every action we take or do not take to every person we encounter.
Our legacy is shaped by our story and the stories of those who preceded us. This chapter tells my story. It starts before I was born.

Anna Mae McKiernan-Potts knew how to love. She was beautiful, she was funny, she was brilliant, and she was my mother. Mom was the youngest of five children and the only girl. Her mother, Grandma Fran, grew up in an upper-middle-class family but married a very handsome rogue (my grandfather) who drank. Since alcohol consumption and steady employment do not mix well, Grandpa could not keep a job, and Grandma had to work very hard when Mom was young. Grandpa was abusive and cruel to his family when he drank. Eventually, when the older boys were in their late teens and after a particularly brutal attack on Fran, the four boys kicked him out of the house. He never came back.

Mom grew up to be stunningly beautiful. She was often compared to Vivien Leigh, the famous English movie star at the time best known for her role as Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind. Mom had thick, dark, shoulder-length hair, full lips, and incredible deep-set, clear blue eyes. Mom also had lovely hands and even did some hand modeling. After high school, she worked as a telephone operator for Bell Telephone. A few years later, she was named Miss Bell Telephone, and off she went to ride the Bell Telephone Float at the Mardi Gras Parade in New Orleans, Louisiana.

As she was riding the float, she was spotted by a handsome recent graduate of the Naval Academy: my dad, Bobby Lee Potts. I don’t know exactly how he tracked her down or the date they met, but sparks must have flown. They were married within the week. They say opposites attract.

Dad was handsome, athletic, and brilliant. He was an engineer, physicist, and highly practical. He grew up as one of three boys in Mexico, Missouri. His father, Grandpa Bill, ran a pool hall, and his mother, Grandma Alla, worked in a shoe factory. My grandparents were great role models for me and loved each other until the day Grandpa Bill died from a heart attack at age fifty-six.

Despite Dad’s absences due to his naval career, my brother Mike was born into their marriage in 1952. His birth was followed by several miscarriages, which devastated my mother. I was born in 1956, followed thirteen months later by my sister Mindy. When Mom was pregnant with me, she, Dad, and Mike were traveling across the country from Virginia to California, as Dad was to attend the Naval Postgraduate School in Fort Ord, California. We were moving to Carmel. On the way, they stopped in Mom’s hometown of Cincinnati, Ohio. Mom was suffering from morning sickness. Her best friend, Jo, was also pregnant and told Mom of a fantastic new drug widely available in Europe but only being tested here in the US. A family member was involved in the testing, and Jo had been taking the new drug and thought it helped her. She gave Mom some tablets, and Mom also felt that they helped her feel better. That drug was thalidomide. My birth was traumatic as I came into the world with only seven fingers and some spinal abnormalities. Mom’s friend Jo’s baby was born severely deformed and died shortly after birth. They didn’t find out why until years later.

After completing his courses at Ft. Ord, Dad was moved to Jacksonville on orders. It was there that the marriage between my parents broke down. Mom was beginning to show the initial stages of bipolar disease. The honing of a naval career at that time required a fine balance between achievement and social finesse. Mom’s behavior was becoming an embarrassment to Dad. He could not cope. Being different was no longer attractive.

Mom, Grandma Fran, Mike, Mindy, and I moved back to Dad’s hometown of Mexico, MO, and lived with our grandparents. Dad and Mom divorced in 1960 when I was three. Mom emotionally collapsed. She became suicidal but did not want her children scarred by the death of their mother. At one point, she stopped our car with Mike, Mindy, and me on a railroad track and waited for a train to come. Fortunately, Mike’s screams alerted Mom to what she was doing, and she drove off before the train could hit us and soon entered a mental hospital in Missouri.

For those ten minutes on the track, Mom was not being a good mother. But for every minute of the rest of her life, she was a wonderful mother. She showed me unconditional love, taught me how to manage other people’s reactions to my missing fingers, brought laughter into my life, and gave me the faith in God (please translate according to your belief system) that sustains me to this day.

Mental illness does not disqualify you from being a good parent. Lack of love does. Love is the greatest legacy you can leave. The love you leave lives on in those you leave behind. Any love that I have been able to show in my life is due to the love shown by my God and my mother.

When Mom was released from the hospital in Missouri, we moved to Cincinnati to be close to her family. We lived just down the street from my Uncle Tom and his family, including lots of cousins. Mom worked for my uncles, and Grandma Fran lived with us and took care of us during the day. Our home was a happy one.

Less than two years after the divorce, Dad married a navy nurse, Adrienne. He forgot, however, to tell Adrienne that he had three children. When she discovered this, he assured her that my mom had custody, so she wouldn’t have to take care of us. Soon after the wedding, Adrienne became pregnant with her first child. In 1962, Dad discovered that the drug thalidomide, never approved for distribution in the US but used widely in Europe, was responsible for the disfigurement of approximately ten thousand babies. The babies were missing appendages (frequently born without arms and legs) and other congenital disabilities. Dad immediately called Mom, blaming her for my lack of fingers.

Mom despaired, blaming herself. Shame and guilt took over. She couldn’t cope with this news. She became despondent and severely depressed. Mom was admitted to Cincinnati's Mental Hospital within a week.

Dad picked us up and drove us to Maryland, where he lived in a two-bedroom duplex with Adrienne, now about four months pregnant. As soon as he dropped us off, he returned to his ship.

I can’t imagine how Adrienne felt to have her life disrupted by being responsible for caring for three unexpected children, aged ten, six, and five, just as she was about to have her first child. She was not pleased and took her resentment out on us. Dad was not around.

Three months after entering the hospital, Mom was released. She asked Dad to bring us back; he said he couldn’t because he had already bought the bedroom furniture. Mom, broken again, returned to the hospital and remained institutionalized for the rest of her life.

My father’s life and career were about to be interrupted in another way by an international emergency. Dad’s goal was to become an admiral in the navy. One of the reasons he divorced my mom was that he was embarrassed by her mental illness. Adrienne, an attractive navy nurse, was much better suited to navy life. She knew the rules. Commanding a ship was one way to move up the ladder to admiral status. Dad had just been given his first command and then had it interrupted by a personal emergency (taking care of us). After dropping us off, he planned to continue that trajectory up the naval command ladder. Unfortunately, his climb up that ladder was again interrupted, permanently this time, by the Cuban missile crisis.

According to Dad, President Kennedy was appalled by the poor performance of the navy’s surface-to-air missiles. He sent a strong message to the navy to collect their best engineers and physicists, bring them to the Pentagon, and improve the country’s missiles. Dad was ordered to leave his ship and join this group. He was devastated. He considered working as a rocket scientist an obstacle to becoming an admiral. Dad served at the Pentagon for the rest of his navy career. He retired as soon as he was eligible, then worked for the Department of Commerce and as a consultant for the Booz Allen consulting firm. In the early days of computers, we had huge terminals filling our dining room that would connect by phone to a massive computer in a government building.