My sister wanted to see if in the many boxes stored in this old house there was any information on the Driggs family. We pulled the containers out, pawed through folders, articles, and photos and realized we had a stack of letters written by my father to my mother during his assignment in Korea during the war.

Yes, they were private. But we loved learning more about them.

Poorna Bell writes beautifully of her husband living on in their garden. My father lives on not just through his letters but also his flannel shirt, which hangs in the old workshop where he puttered around most of his life. My mother is here when I pull out one of her cookbooks, though not often now that we are mostly vegan.

I participate in Jillian Hess’s Noted chat, where we choose and share a quote from something we’ve read or are thinking about. It was Ray Bradbury’s quote that pushed me to think more about this.

Bradbury said in Fahrenheit 451:

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies- a child, or a book or painting, or a house or a wall built or a garden planted…”

I find that living in my grandmother’s 100-year-old house means I remember them all. A dish I ate from as a child visiting in summer; a rose she planted in a beautiful garden; an old piece of wood my grandfather turned into a sign; a book my great-grandfather wrote, still on the shelf in the living room.

We will not live forever. But I think about what Sasha Sagan said: “My parents taught me that even though it’s not forever — because it’s not forever — being alive is a profoundly beautiful thing for which each of us should feel deeply grateful. If we lived forever it would not be so amazing.”

Focusing on a moment, whether a dinner share with a grandchild or a walk on the beach with my husband, helps me not feel so anxious about the end of life. This makes me wonder- what will I leave behind?