It’s been awhile since I posted anything, mainly because I have been busy writing the final chapters of my book this summer (I’m almost done with the first draft!). Because my home office is cramped and lacks air conditioning, much of that writing has been done at the Falls Family Restaurant, where the waitresses know exactly what I want and let me sit in a corner booth for hours at a stretch.
One day recently, I got to the restaurant at my usual time, only to find it closed. A note on the door said, “Closed until further notice. Death in the family.” Knowing the place is run by a couple, I wondered who might have died. When I stopped in at another cafe nearby, I learned the story: the owner himself had fallen asleep at the wheel driving home from a second job. The car went off the road and he died instantly, at only 56 years old.
His name was Mark, and since I was in his cafe several times a week, I was used to seeing him around. We had argued about politics a bit, but I had great respect for him. Hearing he had died caught me off guard. I never told him how much I appreciated his restaurant. In a tribute I wrote to him in our local paper, I included these words:
I didn’t know Mark well, but I know what he created: a friendly gathering place where the food is good and everyone is welcome; a reason to come down to Main Street and do business and see friends. He will be greatly missed.
Some people know us through and through. Others know us only by the legacies we leave behind. I am grateful for the legacy Mark left behind in his restaurant. I wonder what legacy people will remember about me when I’m gone.
What do you think people will remember about you when you are gone?