Dear Mom,

Before you got sick, how often did you think about dying? Did you ever? Was it a fear you had? I don’t remember ever talking to you about death. Not until the very end. By then it was only sad. Only your worries about what was next. Where you were headed. But did you ever think about what you were leaving behind? What you were leaving unfinished?

For some reason, I’ve been thinking about it more. I’ve been thinking about death and, more accurately, life unlived. I don’t fear the act of dying. I don’t fear the unknown of what’s next. I do fear dying too soon. Dying before I have the chance to do something truly great.

When I think about what my legacy will look like once I am gone, I can hear your voice, and the voices of living relatives, tell me, “You’ve created a wonderful family. Kids that are truly amazing. They are your legacy.” But that begs the question, ‘what would I leave behind if I didn’t have kids?’. Is that all I am now? A mother to two great kids? Does that mean that I, alone, am not great?

I know what you’re thinking. I’m being too hard on myself. I am being, perhaps, a bit hyperbolic. A bit melodramatic. But really, what have I done for this world? 

My answer? Not nearly enough.

What do I want to do for this world? Much more.

When I was a kid, I had a dream to be famous. I used to practice my acceptance speech in front of your bathroom mirror. Did you know that? Did you ever catch me while I was sneaking in there to have my moment? I imagined it would be a speech at the Oscars. Probably because that was the award show we watched together. I had this fantasy that I’d be seen as one of the greats. Like the old Hollywood movie stars that you loved and admired. 

There were years when I imagined winning an award for my writing. That my acceptance speech would be for Best Original Screenplay. I gave up on that fantasy long ago when I realized I don’t often write the types of stories that make it onto that stage.

Now, I can see the truth. That I never cared about being famous. I never wanted to be hassled or bombarded or lose my privacy. I never wanted to be picked apart for my physical looks. I never wanted to be publicly judged.

What I really wanted, was to be known. I wanted to be seen.

I still want this.

When I think about what I want to leave behind, I want to leave a lasting impact. I want to be remembered for greatness. In any capacity. 

For the last few years this has been on my mind as I often yearn to do more with my time. I have a short list of things to accomplish before it’s too late. Not quite a bucket list. A life list. My items are not experiences, rather they are the very fabric of the version of me I want to become.

The main theme of my list is that I want to make a difference in the world. To change people’s lives. 

One way I’ve wanted to help out, which I’ve been honestly thinking about doing for years, is to volunteer in a meaningful way. I don’t even make up excuses as to why I can’t put my time into volunteering. I don’t make excuses about needing to find the perfect cause. I have my cause. I have the time. I simply haven’t pulled the trigger. I just haven’t done it. I can say, with complete certainty, that there is a hole within me caused by my lack of charity work and activism. You raised me to give back. To spend time fighting for a cause. You taught me the importance of putting energy into a selfless act. I don’t know where I lost this along the way. I’m not entirely sure how I let myself get so caught up in myself. But it must end. I must start to give back.

Another item on my list? I want to sell millions of copies of my books. All the books I plan to write. I want young kids and young adults to fall in love with my characters and use their journeys as motivation for their own lives. I want my words to change someone’s life.

The last big item on my list is probably the least attainable but still a goal I have for myself. I want to exceed my limits physically. I want to reach a pinnacle of my physical strength and endurance and then go beyond it. I want to compete athletically at a higher level. To actively try to get faster and not only stay complacent with my not last mentality. 

My greatest fear, other than somehow being stranded in the middle of the ocean, is that I will die before I get the chance to become great. My fear is that I will die young, and all my manuscripts will be unread and unfinished on my computer. That no one will read my words. That I will never have the opportunity to change a life with volunteer work. That I will never compete. All I will be remembered as is a mom of great kids who had a lot of dreams. A lot of great ideas but a lack of follow through.

Over the last few months of writing these letters to you, it’s become quite apparent that I do have control of my own life and my own destiny. I know it’s not too late to accomplish my dreams. I also know that these sorts of goals do take effort and energy and time.

And I’ve often been inclined to say, ‘There’s no rush. I’m OK. I have plenty of time’. But I’m starting to worry about time running out. I know I’m still young. I know I could potentially have sixty more years of life to live. But I also read the news. I also know that tragedies happen. Too often. I could get hit by a car running in my neighborhood. I could get the next big virus that will inevitably wipe out a massive percentage of our population. I could get a rear cancer like you did and I could get it younger. For all I know, I already have a disease that is lying dormant and waiting for the perfect opportunity to show its face and take me out. 

I’m not trying to be a downer here and vent about all the possibilities of dying. Again, I’m not really afraid of the death part. But I also want to be realistic. I don’t want to be delusional. I don’t want to live my life assuming I have plenty of time to accomplish my goals. I want to live my life like today is my last day. I want to squeeze everything out of it. I want to work, really hard, every day to get closer to my dreams. I want to work to be great. I have that power. Right?

I know my kids will always be able to say that their mom tried. They watch me daily on my computer typing away words that barely anyone sees. They know I am making an effort. But I also want them to see it pay off. And I do believe that can happen. I do believe it is possible. It’s not all a pipedream. Winning an Oscar as best actress was a fantasy. That was never going to happen. But I know I can write the next great novel. I believe I already have. I just need to push harder to get it out into the world. 

I need to stop here and tell you a story. It’s funny how these letters start out as one thing and evolve into something else as the days go by. I began writing these words to you on Friday of last week. Searching for what I want out of life. What I want to be known for. On Sunday, after days of watching the Olympic swimming trials, Scotland came to me and said, “When I grow up, I want to be like Katie Ladecky.” Before I had a chance to respond, which of course would have included a mention of her needing to learn swim strokes if she wanted to accomplish that goal, she corrected herself. She said, “I want to win like Katie Ladecky. I want to be as good as she is. Not at swimming. Something else.” When I asked a follow up question about what her thing would be she said, “I don’t know yet. I just want to be the best at it.”

It took me an entire day to catch the similarity between her desired goal and mine. This. This is what I’ve been chasing all along. I want to be the greatest at something. I just never knew what that was. Now, I know it’s my writing. Maybe it could also be my athletics. Maybe it’s too late for that. But it’s never too late for my writing. It’s also never too late to volunteer. To make an effort. To change a life.

The more I say it, the more I realize that it’s been this all along, I simply ignored it for years. My desired goal of greatness all starts with changing lives. Making an impact. Having my contributions to the world be so significant that I’m remembered.

Isn’t that what you wanted? To be remembered? I think you succeeded in that. But I also know that, if you had more time, you would have squeezed much more out of life.

There is this strange thought that keeps popping into my head. I’m only 38. If I were 39… If I were approaching 40… I could say that my next decade is finally dedicated to achieving my goals. But I’m not going to wait until I’m turning 40 to say that. My decade to achieve my goals starts now. My motivation. My dedication. My ambition. It has all begun already. I’m not going to think at the end of my life, assuming I have the option to actually look back and ponder at my end, that my time was wasted. I’m not going to wish I had done more. I’m going to feel like my life was a success because I am going to make it so.

I have big dreams. Big goals. I have a clear vision of what my life will become and what legacy I will leave behind. Now it is my time to move toward completion. There is no more waiting. No more dreaming. There is only doing. And it will get done. I’m going to make sure of that. Because at the end of the day, I’m not giving up before I’ve truly started. I will do something great because I am great. Just like you.

I love you, Mom.

Love,

Rachel