Why the Name? Building My Personal Legacy

I never realized how many companies have the word “legacy” in their name until after I decided on a name for my own business. Insurance companies, marketing groups, manufacturers - the list goes on. After coming across numerous businesses, I started to feel like the word “legacy” just felt really pretentious. I wondered if all of those businesses could really be worthy of that name. It also felt very uncreative - just another owner who wanted to sound important. In some ways, it very much annoys me that I used the word in naming my own business. However, there is a story behind the name, and I think it’s important to share. That way, you can rest assured that I’m not just trying to sell myself by sounding showy or important!

I have always been very close to my family. I grew up with two parents and one sibling and consider myself lucky that my parents stayed together and my brother and I are still close, even as adults. I also feel lucky (maybe more like blessed) that I was given two of the most caring and loving parents that exist(ed). I don’t want to make this too long, so I will just give one example of the many that I have. There was a time, not too long ago, that I had three kids under two years old. My oldest son was a mere 19 months old when my twins came into the world. Life became many things on that day in April: exciting, a little unbelievable, and also extremely challenging. My husband had a job that required him to work many nights, and I had three babies that did not go to sleep easily. In a typical week, about three nights, my parents would work their full-time job and then head right to my house. They didn’t even stop at home. They would stay at my house until all three babies were asleep, even if that meant staying until 10:00. They were not retired; they still had to get up and go to work early the next morning. That’s not counting the help that was provided on the weekends. It was completely a selfless act. 

Besides my children despising sleep and/or sleeping alone, life was more challenging because I had a child who was what we now call neurodivergent. This was apparent from the very beginning, though many people just called it having a “colicky” baby. No, he was more than colicky. I knew it long before the doctors did. Not only did I have a mother's instinct, but I also had a Master’s degree in Special Education and many years experience working with a neurodiverse population. Life is full of irony, isn’t it?

As my son grew older, his amazing personality shone through more and more. At the same time, many people in my life found it challenging to try to help me with him. There was one person, however, who was never intimidated by the challenge. My dad. He was able to get through to my son like nobody else. He always knew the right thing to say, the right thing to do. It was quite amazing. The connection between grandfather and grandson was so beautiful. There was an understanding that many other adults did not have, some saying that my son “just needed more discipline”. My father was always there. He was there for his grandkids, his kids, his wife, his coworkers, his friends, and numerous people that he did “work on the side” for. I have joked in the past about how everyone is a wonderful person in their obituary. Well, when I spoke at my father’s funeral, there were people waiting outside in the 90 degree heat because there wasn’t any room left in the funeral home. That’s the kind of person my father was. 

When I had my kids, I didn’t know if I would ever go back to work. I definitely was not going to ever go back to work in special education! What’s the saying? Famous last words? When my kids got old enough to be in school, it became evident that I needed to get back to work. Let’s just say, I’m not a very good housewife. The laundry always seemed to be piled up, and take-out was one of my favorite words. I needed to have a purpose outside of my house. Still adamant that I would not go back to teaching full-time, especially in Special Education, I started working part-time at the preschool that my kids had attended. It was a great way to spend half of my days. It was also the place where I learned that simple words really can knock the wind out of you and send you to your knees. 

I had just started this new venture as a preschool teacher, and it was my first time reading a book to the whole class, when my Apple watch started buzzing. It was my mom. Why was she calling? She was supposed to be at work. It could have been a hundred different reasons, but for some reason, I got a knot in my stomach. My instincts told me that something was wrong. Mid-page, I handed the book to my co-teacher and left the classroom. I stepped outside. When I put my phone to my ear, my mother said, “Dad and I have to tell you something”. She didn’t have to say anything else. I already knew. And yes, it knocked me off of my feet. I sat in the dirty parking lot, too numb to cry or feel embarrassed that my brand new co-workers were witnessing such a personal moment. 

My father was diagnosed with Stage 4 stomach cancer at the age of 60. No symptoms until it was too late. It’s amazing how life can change so drastically, so quickly and unexpectedly. My father gracefully battled this cancer for two full years, all while still helping me out in any way that he could. Even when he felt sick or depressed, he hid it, and he marched forward. I wanted to help my father in any way that I could, and not out of obligation because he was my parent. My father had given me so much and I really wanted to give him everything I could during his time of need.  While he was sick I sat with him during chemotherapy infusions (which always ended with the best lunch at The Irish Cottage), made him big batches of his favorite soups, called and visited often, and held his hand during some tough procedures. I truly wanted to give him everything that I possibly could. If you're lucky enough to know the bond and love between a father and daughter, then you're lucky in life. 

I continued to work at the preschool,  and this worked well for me since the hours were short.  However, opportunity came knocking when I was offered a job at a different school where I would have more room for growth. At that point, I was very conflicted between wanting to build my career again (yes, in Special Education), but also wanting to give my time to my dad. I must’ve talked to my mom about the fact that I wasn’t sure I should take the job because I wanted to be at all of my dad’s appointments and be available to him whenever he needed something, because I got a phone call from him during which he told me, “Don’t you dare use me as a reason to turn this job down. I’ll be fine”. With feelings of both excitement and regret, I accepted the job. Because this is already long and I don’t want to lose you if you’re still reading, I’ll summarize the two years that followed. In a matter of two years, I moved from working as an assistant, part-time, to getting my MA teaching license (previously I held a NH license), working as a full-time Special Education teacher, and then as a Special Education Coordinator. My dad never got to see me make the jump from teacher to coordinator, but I know he was cheering me on from wherever he may be. 

Now, let’s go back to the name. While I was really very proud of myself for what I was able to accomplish in such a small timeframe, I also always had a feeling of regret because I was giving my time to something other than my dad. I kept going simply because he would have been very upset with me if I didn’t. He didn’t want to be the reason that I held back. If you know my story, you know why I decided that I needed to start this business. Maybe I will go deeper into that in a future blog post! Anyways, I decided I was going to leave the public school system and start an advocacy business. Of all the important issues when starting a business, obviously one of the most important was, what in the world do I name it?

Some time after my dad passed, I came across a card that he had given me while he was sick. Like with every birthday and anniversary, he had written me a small novel in the card (kind of like this “short” blog). In that card, he wrote about how he knew that I would leave my legacy in this field of work. Reading those words made me feel a multitude of emotions, one of them being pride. I knew that I needed to prove him right. I needed my legacy to be helping the most vulnerable children. Helping the children that so many people overlook. Helping their parents feel understood and accepted. I also remembered my brother speaking at my father's funeral. He spoke about the legacy that my father left behind, and if you knew my father, you know that truer words have never been spoken. At that point, it hit me. I had to have the word “legacy” in my business name. That way, I would never forget what my father wanted for me, and also what he did for everyone who crossed paths with him. I like to think that I am similar to my dad in the way that all we both want(ed) to do is to help others who need it the most. 

So, there you have it. In 1,740 short words. (Sorry, I can’t help it - I take after him with my writing, too!) My business is named Legacy, and not because I think I’m amazing or the best or because I want to sound pretentious. I just always want to remember why I got to this point and who stood behind me. I hope that if you come to me for help, you also feel that. And finally, without further ado: The End. 

P.S. If you actually made it to the end, wow. Thank you!