This reached me somewhere very personal. I spend far too much time trying to correct the record, explain the wrong turns, and make peace with versions of myself no one else is still prosecuting. The idea that we are not erased but distilled feels strangely kind. Maybe what survives is not the evidence, but the essence. Thank you for writing this…
Thank you 🙏- warmly and sincerely. You read with a rare kind of tenderness, and you found a line in it more beautiful than any of mine: "the essence, not the evidence." A sensitivity like yours is a gift - to your own writing, and to anyone lucky enough to be read by you.
Thank you for letting the words in, and for answering them so gently. It means more than you know.
A tattoo that says "nothing is real" - what a beautiful paradox to carry: a permanent reminder of impermanence. I suspect that is the most honest kind of ink there is.
Thank you for bringing so much warmth here. Knowing these words found you on a day you needed them - that is the entire reason I write. And for the record, the way you play the game of life, with that much heart for other people, is a quiet joy to watch from this side of the board.
May the fear pass quickly and the joy stay longer than it planned 🌻
Absolutely lovely. Truth. I tried hard to remember my great-grandmothers’ names — after all I’d been taught them, told of them. I could only remember one. The one that died too young. So, yeah, the “famous” one. You made me laugh, you made me cry, you made me think. Most importantly I rejoiced at the beauty. Thank you for such an encouraging read!
Thank you - your comment is quietly the essay's best proof. You reached back four generations and returned with one name, and even that one was kept by grief, not by the family archive. Sorrow, it turns out, is the only librarian who never loses a card.
But let me gently argue: you remember more than you think. A name is only the label on the jar. The habits, the stubbornness, the small daily rituals - those were passed down too, from mother to daughter, four times over, no names required. You may have lost what they were called. You did not lose what they were like.
With gratitude, and a nod to the three unnamed ladies still quietly present in your days,
Amen 100%. I am daily aware tbh…particularly as I get older…of the influence my grandmothers and mother had/have upon me (one through my father who is a terrific man and stories I’ve been told). My mother and I both bear my grandmother’s name for a start! I named my bakery after my maternal grandmother who taught me to bake and left a legacy of recipes. She also taught me to sew. But I look in the mirror and I see both grandmothers on different days, and who knows who beyond them. What an absolutely delightful thought. I do have character traits (good, bad, the ugly and the beautiful) and physical mannerisms. But, most importantly, all of them left a legacy of loving the Lord Jesus. I am blessed to be 4 generations down on one side and 7 on the other from the first genuine Christ-following believers in my ancestry… My father wrote a little book for his grandchildren delineating every story he could remember being passed on to him. I am blessed to have my grandfathers hymn books, notes of encouragement from my grandmother in her writing. They will be treasures for generations to come. And they taught me to love Jesus by modeling it to their children and in turn to me, to surrender my pride and my little self at His feet, and He be Lord of my life. April 6, 1997 Jesus became my Lord and Savior, so one day this whole lineage will be in heaven together. Until then it’s my privilege and solemn responsibility to carry that on by living well the Word of God.
Ps: I love your librarian analogy! I’m going to remember that one!! ✨
“The kid will not know your name. The kid will not know you existed. And the kid will owe you everything anyway.”
That passage quietly reframes legacy from something we preserve into something we become for someone else. I also loved the final turn from forgetting to distillation. It feels less like disappearance and more like refinement, where everything essential continues traveling even after the story itself has faded. Beautiful work.
This reached me somewhere very personal. I spend far too much time trying to correct the record, explain the wrong turns, and make peace with versions of myself no one else is still prosecuting. The idea that we are not erased but distilled feels strangely kind. Maybe what survives is not the evidence, but the essence. Thank you for writing this…
Now we are both a little pink - and gladly so. Thank you for such warmth; it was a joy, truly.
Take gentle care - Dominic🌻🌻
Hello,
Thank you 🙏- warmly and sincerely. You read with a rare kind of tenderness, and you found a line in it more beautiful than any of mine: "the essence, not the evidence." A sensitivity like yours is a gift - to your own writing, and to anyone lucky enough to be read by you.
Thank you for letting the words in, and for answering them so gently. It means more than you know.
With warm thanks and real admiration - Dominic 🌻🌻
Now I'm the one blushing :)) Thank you, Dominic.
i love this :) thank you so much for this
I have a tattoo on my forearm that says "nothing is real"
it's a reminder for me that when I get scared... to anxious or fearful...
to remember that nothing in this life is "real"....
it'll all pass
and I absolutely LOOOVVEEE the way you talk about this...
sometimes we take life so seriously...
that we miss the moment of joy... of what's truly important
that we forget we're here to enjoy life... to play the game of life...
thank you so much for this beautiful post
i really needed to read this :)
sending you so much love & gratitude,
Bridget
Hello Bridget🌻
A tattoo that says "nothing is real" - what a beautiful paradox to carry: a permanent reminder of impermanence. I suspect that is the most honest kind of ink there is.
Thank you for bringing so much warmth here. Knowing these words found you on a day you needed them - that is the entire reason I write. And for the record, the way you play the game of life, with that much heart for other people, is a quiet joy to watch from this side of the board.
May the fear pass quickly and the joy stay longer than it planned 🌻
Thank you so much for your beautiful words, Dominic! :)
Absolutely lovely. Truth. I tried hard to remember my great-grandmothers’ names — after all I’d been taught them, told of them. I could only remember one. The one that died too young. So, yeah, the “famous” one. You made me laugh, you made me cry, you made me think. Most importantly I rejoiced at the beauty. Thank you for such an encouraging read!
Hello Jennifer,
Thank you - your comment is quietly the essay's best proof. You reached back four generations and returned with one name, and even that one was kept by grief, not by the family archive. Sorrow, it turns out, is the only librarian who never loses a card.
But let me gently argue: you remember more than you think. A name is only the label on the jar. The habits, the stubbornness, the small daily rituals - those were passed down too, from mother to daughter, four times over, no names required. You may have lost what they were called. You did not lose what they were like.
With gratitude, and a nod to the three unnamed ladies still quietly present in your days,
Dominic 🌻🌻
Amen 100%. I am daily aware tbh…particularly as I get older…of the influence my grandmothers and mother had/have upon me (one through my father who is a terrific man and stories I’ve been told). My mother and I both bear my grandmother’s name for a start! I named my bakery after my maternal grandmother who taught me to bake and left a legacy of recipes. She also taught me to sew. But I look in the mirror and I see both grandmothers on different days, and who knows who beyond them. What an absolutely delightful thought. I do have character traits (good, bad, the ugly and the beautiful) and physical mannerisms. But, most importantly, all of them left a legacy of loving the Lord Jesus. I am blessed to be 4 generations down on one side and 7 on the other from the first genuine Christ-following believers in my ancestry… My father wrote a little book for his grandchildren delineating every story he could remember being passed on to him. I am blessed to have my grandfathers hymn books, notes of encouragement from my grandmother in her writing. They will be treasures for generations to come. And they taught me to love Jesus by modeling it to their children and in turn to me, to surrender my pride and my little self at His feet, and He be Lord of my life. April 6, 1997 Jesus became my Lord and Savior, so one day this whole lineage will be in heaven together. Until then it’s my privilege and solemn responsibility to carry that on by living well the Word of God.
Ps: I love your librarian analogy! I’m going to remember that one!! ✨
“The kid will not know your name. The kid will not know you existed. And the kid will owe you everything anyway.”
That passage quietly reframes legacy from something we preserve into something we become for someone else. I also loved the final turn from forgetting to distillation. It feels less like disappearance and more like refinement, where everything essential continues traveling even after the story itself has faded. Beautiful work.