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Did writing the story of your life as a gift for your family make it onto your New Year’s resolution list, and then fall promptly off? For many, such a thought is appealing but the task itself is daunting. The good news is there are many ways to share your life with others that don’t require crafting the great American novel.
This is my second year without my father, and I’m just now opening up the last 15 years or so of the daily planners he kept. These came my way because I’m the serial “journaler” in the family; journaling is like breathing for me. It wasn’t for Dad. He recorded activities and weather, not feelings. I can often infer how he felt by observing his handwriting and word choice. These subtle clues bring back memories that not only help me through the grieving process, but also enrich my perspective of our family history.
Dad’s accounting of his daily activities also helped fill in certain blanks and give me new understanding of the seasons of his life. He shared the events of his days with such authenticity that I feel like he’s sitting with me as I explore year after year of his life with us. Patterns emerged I hadn’t seen while he was still alive. And the way he captured fairly monumental life events with the same tone he used to indicate he “played golf” or “watched the Phillies win” is both endearing and comforting.
Some days I half expect to hear Walter Cronkite narrating in my head: “And that’s the way it is, Tuesday, January 23rd, 2007.” Anyone remember Walter Cronkite? He had a way of trusting his audience to formulate their own opinions about the news he presented to us each evening. This was the news of Dad’s life, and I have become hooked on it.
Keeping a daily planner like my father did might feel like too rigid a commitment to make. Options abound for recording special parts of your life, including workbooks, journals with prompts, and even interview card decks to use with family members who are living with dementia. Keepsake books like Storyworth can help guide you through the process of creating a memoir using a process that seems more accessible than starting from scratch with a blank piece of paper or computer screen.
Maybe my father kept such meticulous notes in his daily planner knowing there would come a day when someone would flip through the pages in wonder, as I have been doing in recent months. Or, maybe that’s the style that allowed him to best measure his days on earth. Regardless, I have become more conscious of the words I leave behind, as well as how I will leave them. His have been an unexpected gift.
Editor’s note: Leigh-Anne Lees is the community relations director for Valley Program for Aging Services.
