Miss Me When I’m Gone?

I’m getting on in years and sometimes wonder if anyone will miss me when I die. I have long since outlived all the contemporary relatives I was acquainted with, but I have four children and four grandchildren. Some of the young ones wouldn’t recognize me if they bumped into me on the street. That’s because their parents (my children) are busy and engaged people without much free time to spend on me. We did get together a few months ago when three of my children and all four grandchildren came for a visit. It was a time of celebration for me.

On the other hand, I have half a dozen or so close friends whom I see fairly often. Most of them admire me for my exploits in Vietnam and elsewhere and for my six published books and 17 short stories. Every week I see other members of the Men’s Forum during a meeting at a local 50+ center, and every month I attend a meeting of the American Legion. But the men in these groups know me only slightly. I am also a member of the Phoenix Society, made up of retired employees of the National Security Agency (NSA), but I have yet to meet any fellow members face-to-face.

Then there are my readers, people who have read my books and stories. My sense is that these people, most of whom I have never met, hold me in high regard. The same could be said for the many, many people who have heard my presentations and readings.

So I end up concluding that I will be missed when I die, not so much by my progeny as by others who admire my work. And that, frankly, makes me very proud.