Remember Me

Whenever I go to sign in to an account and the little pop up box has a little place to check with the words “Remember Me” next to it that, if you click it, will keep you logged in, has inspired me. I wish that life had a “Remember Me” box to check. Or that each person that you meet had one. It would be so lovely to strike up a conversation with someone and then check the box allowing them to remember you and recall the great experiences the two of you had.

What do you want to be remembered as?

Is the question that I posed to myself. I did not ask “how do you want to be remembered?” or even “will you be remembered?” because those questions could not possibly gain the enlightening answer that my special question prompted. People remember random things all the time. The time that you dropped your lunch tray may be the way people remember you. But this question, this beautiful question asks  what kind of person will the Earth remember you as.

Will you be remembered as the funny one, the girl with red hair, a kind soul, envious, a charmer?

Beyond all else I want to be remembered as a wonderful soul. At first this may sound nondescript. Everyone has a soul, don’t they? I am quite sure that we are all souls. The reason that I want to be remembered as a wonderful soul is because the title reflects an unworldly view of who I am. Humanity will not remember my body, the way my hair is styled, the clothes that I wear, how fat or skinny I am, my height, the freckles splashed across my nose, how fast I can run, for all of these things are just bodily. 

I want my soul to shine in people’s memories.

I want not my smile to be remembered, but how quickly it comes to my face and how I always offer it to anyone.

I want my hugs to be remembered, not because of the strength of my arms, but how I can see the deep pain in people’s eyes and instinctively yen to ameliorate the pain.

I want not to be remembered by the shape of my body, but by how I use it to express how I joyously am over-excited for any good thing. Did you do well on your paper? I will jump for joy for you. Did you get accepted into medical school? I will exalt unabashedly as if I were the one who was accepted.

I want the amount of reading that I do to not be remembered, but the ever searching soul that is present in a reader to be. The curiosity, the interest, the hope that a happy ending will occur with a couple of turns of pages. That’s what I want my soul’s last breath to linger as.

I want to be remembered as the tears that have fallen, not because I am mortal, as is everyone else, but because all of those tears have been shed out of empathy, for fear, for strength, and for courage. My ruddy eyes should be erased from the memory of my loved ones, but the remembrance of how I cried for them when times were tough to be remembered. I can feel your pain too. We can share it and maybe then it won’t be so bad.

I want to be remembered not by the sound of the clinking keys of my laptop or even the words that I write, but the verbal words that I share. Writing just captures what I have not been able to express to another person. I would love to be remembered as the girl who learned to open and to share her feelings, whatever they may be. I want to be remembered as an open soul.

I want not to be remembered by the favors I have done or the extra shifts that I have taken, for those things dissipate with memory and with life. I want to be remembered as the person that is always there. Always reliable. It is so beautiful to have something constant and steady in such a turbulent world.

I want not to be remembered as the girl who carried around a bible. I want to be remembered as the girl who was unashamed to pray for you and to let you know that I did. To be remembered as the one who never let here faith be farther away form her heart than her finger tips, for how else would one be able to touch the world if faith does not travel from heart to fingers.

I want to be remembered as the girl who believed. In everything. Who believed that every morning something grand would be waiting just around the corner. To believe that I would succeed, that I would change the world, that I would fall in love, that I would adopt a dog, that I would raise a family, that I would finally make a souffle, that I would be loved. More than what I have achieved, I want to be remembered as someone who believed.

Will this box ever pop up on my screen prompting the question “remember me”?

Only if I want it to.

And I do.

I want to be remembered as a wonderful soul.


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