My Nan recently celebrated her birthday.
I say “celebrated” even though she’s been gone for almost thirty years. Because birthdays don’t just disappear when the person does.
I’ve been thinking about Nan a lot - about what she taught me growing up.
This blog is built around three ideas: Think. Teach. Show up.
And if I had to point to someone who taught me what that last one really means, I’m not sure I could find a better example than her.
When you were with Nan, you had Nan. One hundred percent.
She listened. She paid attention. She made you feel like whatever you were telling her was important, because to her, it was. Not necessarily because the story itself was important, but because you were.
That distinction matters.
As kids, we didn’t recognize everything Nan did for us.
We just knew that she somehow made things happen.
Nan listened. She worried. She laughed. She made time. She paid attention.
She loved us unconditionally.
There are people who teach us by sitting us down and explaining things.
And then there are people who teach us by the way they live.
Nearly thirty years later, Nan still shows up.
She shows up in the stories we tell. She shows up in the moments we remember. She shows up in the things we do.
That’s probably the best legacy any of us can leave… pieces of ourselves, carried forward by the people who loved us.
Maybe the best way to thank her for everything she did is to keep doing what she taught us.
Pay attention. Let people know that they matter.
And when somebody needs you - show up.
Happy birthday, Nan.
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