Dear Fear of Being Forgotten,

Will my children say good things about me at my funeral or write something endearing on my epitaph? Will my family be able to survive after I am gone? After all, they believe I have all the answers. Does my goofiness in the workplace mean my memory will have longevity? I wonder if I will leave a legacy to be remembered, passed down, and replicated through the generations? Will they forget about me and never speak of me again? Will I be able to make enough money to leave some for everyone? What will happen to them after I am gone? Will they eat right? Will they be able to solve problems?

I am so full of life. This life I live. Rarely do I rest, and I never stop. I am always the person to come to for answers for all others. I have no fear. I am not afraid of anything! At least that is what I let people think, feel, and accept from me. I can not define myself as a fraud. I feel that it is only my business of what I am afraid of. I want to slay the dragon of fear on my own. Well, mostly alone. My husband is the only person that might have a clue. I am the most real with him. He knows my dreams, ambitions, weaknesses and my fears. Maybe even the ones I have not yet acknowledged on my own.

But you, Forgotten, are my most dangerous and frightening dragon. Your fire has not shown its light. Your face is not scary. You keep your teeth hidden behind big firm lips of hopefulness. You make yourself out to be a kind, patient beast. Yet your potential has me shaking in my shoes. Daily. Weekly.

How the media runs the lives of my loved ones, I fear they will not have a physical picture of me to show the coming generations. Although physical pictures have a way of eluding the future, too, I am not filled with the same horror. Without a picture or memento, they will not relive memories. Without memories, I am not remembered.

Forgotten, you are a witness that I live daily for my family. Every decision I make is mostly about them. It does not matter the ages, distances, or growth. I want them to know that I care for them. I love them. I desire to know about their lives. What excites them, scares them, drives them to the next page in life. I yearn to learn goals and passions and be there to hug them when they achieve those.

My passion is to be someone they wish to mimic, copy, and be like. Their hero. You see, heroes are legends that never die. They live on in the memories and stories for generations to come. That is my goal. My passion.

My tools to defeat the memory slashing dragon are contact, creation, time, photos, laughter, assistance, mentoring, goals and dreams, and the presence of me.

I plan to keep in contact with those I wish to be held in high regard and significance. After connecting, I will be creating episodes of laughter, fun, exploration, and talks. Some short talks with long walks. Some long intertwined conversations about love, life, family and feelings. Maybe a little wine thrown in to enhance the release of burdens on adult responsibilities, if only to be replaced by laughter for a minute. Time can be our enemy or our ally. I desire to make it my friend. I don’t waste, but cherish, time spent with people I care about. This creates my presence, wisdom, knowledge, photos, and assistance with both of our dreams.

Finally, but continuously, I am going to chase my dreams and passions for finances and my version of success. This will show everyone that I am not afraid to reach them at any age. I will show them they can, too.

Take that, Unmemorable and Forgotten! I will be remembered! I will achieve illustrious, heroic status! Your unseen fire will not burn me away. Your sharp, hidden teeth will never take a bite out of me. You will be slain. You, my fearful friend will be laid to rest at my feet before I am laid to rest at theirs.

Respectfully Not Yours,
Rebbecca Reynolds

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