The One Event None of Us Can Skip

I went to a memorial yesterday.

And it hit me—there are just a handful of life events we all have in common, no matter who we are or how we live. At some point, we all show up at a baby shower, a wedding, and eventually… a funeral.

We Google what to wear. We check on what gift to bring. We ask around for etiquette. And when we’re the guest, we offer our love or congratulations or condolences, and then we go on with life.

But when you’re not just the guest—when you’re the one planning the service, picking the photo for the program, choosing the music, deciding how to honor a whole lifetime in one room—it’s a lot.

There’s pressure. There are expectations. And let’s not forget: there’s grief.

And still, we try to get it “right,” whatever that means. We want to honor our person in a way that feels honest. Loving. Full of heart. And if you’ve ever been in that seat, you know—it’s heavy, and holy.

Yesterday’s memorial was for a dear family friend, Keith Wright. And if you knew Keith, you knew you were in for a story.

He was a character—loud, funny, unapologetically bold, and forever with a cigar in his hand. He ate steak like it was a food group, lived like every day was his birthday, and worked as a lumber salesman with the flair of a Vegas headliner.

But what moved me most wasn’t just how he lived, it was how people remembered him.

They didn’t sugarcoat anything. They talked about his challenges right along with his charm. They told stories that made us laugh through our tears. Because that’s the thing—Keith really lived.

He didn’t hide behind perfection. He was a force. And he left a trail of unforgettable moments behind him.

Like the fresh-from-the-bank $2 bills he handed to every kid he met. My 14-year-old still carries one in her phone case, years later—a little reminder of prosperity and magic.

Or how he’d quietly pay the dinner bill for any single parent he spotted out with their kid. No fanfare. Just a gesture of respect, and a whole lot of heart.

And sitting there, listening to everyone share their “Keith” stories, I couldn’t help but think...

What would people say about me?

What will I be remembered for?

It’s a question worth asking. Not in a doom-and-gloom way, but in a live-on-purpose kind of way.

Not to chase perfection, but to live in a way that leaves ripples—real, lasting ones—in our families, our friendships, and even with strangers.

If you’re in the season of planning a memorial, grieving a loss, or even just wondering how to celebrate a life well lived, know this: there’s no perfect script.

But there is beauty in showing up with authenticity, love, and a little bit of legacy.

Maybe your person didn’t hand out $2 bills or smoke cigars or shout across the room with a steak in hand. But they lived. And there are stories worth telling.

Let them be real. Let them be big. Let them be messy and meaningful.

And if you’re the one left telling the stories someday—may they come easy, and may they sound like a life very well lived.

I hope this gave you some comfort and clarity—because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this: you don’t have to figure this all out alone.

Whether you’re in the thick of planning a memorial, navigating the everyday stress of caregiving, or just wondering what comes next, I’ve got your back.

✅ Need personal guidance? You can book a private 1-on-1 session or a casual Care Chat with me at TheSandwichedGen.com.

📱 Looking for ongoing support? Come hang out with me on Instagram @BarbaraStratte, where I share real-talk tips, weekly encouragement, and the kind of relatable advice that makes this sandwich generation life feel a little lighter.

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