Do you ever find yourself surprised by surprise?
Recently, while reading Belonging by Toko-pa Turner, I had an out-loud “huh” moment that caused me to shut the book for a long pause. In a passage about journeying through exile, Turner writes, “The initiated adult has learned to withstand uncertainty, has paid a debt to the gods through his losses and grief, and had decided to make beauty with his life as the future ancestor that he is.” I was gobsmacked.
Even though I’ve been working, teaching, and writing within the realms of death and grief for a decade, I hadn’t considered my own mortality through that particular lens.
Even though I’ve been death journaling for years—documenting memories, blessings, and care choices for my beloveds—I hadn’t framed the aftermath of my own death that exact way.
I even call on my own ancestors regularly. I request my Gram when seeking courage as a woman entrepreneur. I beckon my Lela when I need unconditional, limitless belief in my abilities. I send a signal to my Aunt Nancy when I’m taking myself too seriously. And sometimes, I gather the whole lot of my deceased connections when I want protection or encouragement from beyond.
And still, I never really considered that I could be this for someone else someday. What a beautiful epiphany. So, what might it mean? To me, it means I’m now naming myself as such. I’m not only a person who is currently living and breathing; I am also an eventual ancestor.
I will step into this role one day, which impacts my walk until then. It means “How will I be remembered?” broadens to include, “How will I be regarded as an ancestor?”
For now, I’m gently holding these questions close:
- How does my voice sound in the heads and hearts of others, knowing it will be carried on?
- How well do my actions reflect my ideals and priorities, knowing a lifetime can simultaneously feel like forever and a blink?
Being an eventual ancestor does not mean extra, undue pressure. Perfectionism is safe, boring, and unattainable anyway. I want to live fully. I want to try stuff, maybe mess up, and then do better. I want to stretch and heal myself along the way. I want to share my heart bravely. I want to “make beauty” with my life.
And I hope the ripples I get to create might become welcome waves on another shore…
How about you? Have you thought about your own future role as an ancestor—to relatives, chosen family, or other connections? Have you considered what that might mean or how it might influence your life and relationships now?
Francesca Lynn Arnoldy 