In my guest bedroom, I have items I brought home after clearing out my sister’s rental house. Her important papers, photos and jewelry she treasured, collectible things she got when our father died; those kinds of things we think we need to keep.
One of the things I brought home is a huge, framed professional photo of her in her wedding dress. She was such a beautiful bride. She was always so photogenic too.
Then I looked over at the box of her cremated remains and I had to sit down.
What does it mean to live a meaningful life?
When this experience of mortality ends, how do I want to be remembered?