On an afternoon last October, we finished up my last session of computer training. We chatted about his wife and how much he loved her. He shared with me how he proposed to her. He told me about a missionary they supported and why St. Francis was his favorite saint. And, of course, we talked about which K-Cup coffee we liked best! He ran a final system check on my computer to make sure I wouldn’t run into any unexpected blips and then zipped his bag and we walked to my front door. "See ya later, sis!" he said as he opened my front door to leave.
His name was Bill and a few years ago, we began to call each other brother and sister because we were just that — brother and sister in Christ.
But, he came into my life ten years ago as my computer trainer. We met when I was an intimidated blind woman who didn't know how to type or turn on a computer! For ten years, off and on, Bill sat at my desk with me, coaching me on new applications, updating my computer programs, and helping me sharpen my skills.
And then on that October day, he said "See ya later, sis!" to a woman who had written ten books, thanks to his tireless support and computer training.
A few weeks later in mid-November, I got a phone call that Bill died.
Bill was gone. Too soon. Totally unexpected.
Of course, almost every time I type on this laptop I think of him, but it isn’t just because of what he taught me. I think of him because of how he treated me.
His legacy was not in his career, but in his character.
He wove into my life strands of joy and kindness. He strengthened the fabric of my life because of the patience he showed and the perseverance he modeled for me. Bill left behind the perspective, joy, and inspiration that was his life.
Have you ever thought about how you wish to be remembered in the minds of others when you leave?