There comes a time in life when you contemplate your own mortality. For many, this reflection emerges when life settles and children reach the bittersweet age of independence. On such a day, as you sift through the memories stored in your mind—both joyful and painful—you may wonder: How will my children remember me? Often, what you hope they’ll recall and what they actually do are entirely different.
Reflect on your own childhood for a moment. Your parents took you to Disney World, your dad went fishing with you on weekends, and your mom cherished Christmas. Their actions during these significant moments shaped you. Yet, there are also memories you hold only because others recounted them. Hearing about your life through someone else’s lens feels less personal, but those stories are still part of your life’s record.
Then there are the moments you vividly recall: conversations with your parents that didn’t end well, times you felt deprived, or instances when their reasoning baffled you. There were sibling squabbles and the inevitable stresses every family endures. Feelings of insecurity, distrust, or unfairness often lingered. Children rarely perceive events the way parents do. Why? Because parents often focus on orchestrating memorable events rather than simply being present.
Children also grapple with issues they feel unable to discuss with their parents. They accept that Dad is too busy to play baseball in the yard or that Mom, exhausted from raising a family, craves solitude. They adapt, sinking into the folds of family life, hiding their feelings, desires, and dreams of ideal parents, knowing you’re doing your best. Sadly, your eulogy—though heartfelt—will likely follow a familiar script. But what children remember most are often things left unsaid at your funeral.
Memories That Endure
For instance, they’ll recall how Dad looked in his police uniform or how he cheered for the Redskins (or another beloved team). They’ll remember Mom’s love for sewing dresses they never fully appreciated. A particular Christmas, the aroma of a unique family meal, or the creaky step Dad never fixed—driving Mom to distraction—will linger in their minds. They may also recall painful moments. In essence, they remember life as they knew it: the good, the bad, and the ugly. And they remember their parents that way too—sometimes strong and steady, other times frail and inconsistent.
How will my children remember me? Hopefully with fondness. Parents are imperfect; mistakes are inevitable, even for mothers and fathers. Yet, instead of waiting to reflect on how your children will remember you, live with mindfulness, staying present in each moment.
When we stray from the right path or are making mistakes, we sense it. An internal compass tracks what we should do, want to do, or need to do—but excuses like being too busy, too tired, or lacking resources often hold us back. The solution? Listen to your conscience. Notice how you feel after speaking with your children. Treat them as you wish to be treated. Carve out time to truly be with them—not just physically, but with your mind and heart. When you’re tempted to say, “Wait a minute” or “I’ll do it later,” pause, set aside your task, and connect with your children. These are the moments they’ll carry forward and pass on to their own families.
If you believe your children understand your demanding career or frequent absences, think again—they don’t. They’re just children. They may adapt, but they’ll always remember that Mom or Dad was too preoccupied with building a life to live it fully in the present.
Still, no matter your efforts, your children won’t see you as the perfect parent. But if you strive to be present and connect meaningfully, they’ll remember you for who you truly were. Children know their parents love them, but not all feel that love in the way you intend.
Right now, ask yourself: How will my children remember me?
From this moment, you can create memories that reflect the parent you aspire to be. These moments, decades later, will warm your children’s hearts, leaving them grateful for a parent like you.
