Challenge: A Secret Book, Tragedy, and Leaving a Legacy (a Sunday post by Lexi)

Dear Readers,

Today, I'm writing in a secret book.

See, my little brother is 17, and he has such a sweet heart (but still acts a 17-year-old guy, of course, lol). We're extremely close; I was his "other parent" in a way. I still try to teach him by my walk in life, and he still comes in my room sometimes and watches TV at night with me. Or he'll not want to go to a place if I'm not. I do the same things, and even interpret for he and our mother when they are in a place in an argument where they're not getting eachother. (He speaks "Lexi," lol.)

One day a few months ago, my mom came to my room with this notebook that I had written in for my semester's classes, and she asked if I needed it. It was just a small turquoise notebook that held notes for my last semester in college, including Spanish IV and Philosophy of Literature. I glanced through it, and said no, I didn't, and asked why. My little brother wanted to keep it, she told me, so that when I'm gone, he can remember what my writing looked like. This was completely out of the blue, you guys. He does this. It seems that he'll be quiet and not say things unless he's thought them through. I don't know why he's already thinking about when I'm gone, but I knew in my heart that this was very important to him. So I told her that he can definitely keep it.

Then, I remembered: the focus of the philosophy course was "tragedy." Yeah, as a chica with depression and anxiety, I was not enthused when the professor told us that we were going to be studying it. What sucked worse is when I realized he meant the entire damn semester. I didn't want my little brother reading notes I had to take on lectures that included one philosopher's view that nobody is worth a thing and that the best thing we can do is to kill ourselves. That's not something I needed him to ever even glance at. I don't want him to know about these things, or think that any of the arguments for giving up on life were real.

In the end, I let him keep it. However, I began (yet another) quote book. I love writing these, and have been working on one for my future kids for a few years. (It's a big, huge book. Not my best idea, lol.) My mom found a notebook with a cover that says "Do small things with great love," and it's this perfectly sized, lined notebook. I'm going to fill the entire thing up with inspiring, funny, insightful, etc. quotes.

This is how I want him to remember me. I want him to see funny things, and wonder why I picked certain ones especially for him. Was it a joke? a silly thing? something that does or eventually will be applied in his life? I want him to remember me through these things. In the end, I'll write a letter in it for him, one that tells him the truths that I can never seem to verbalize, like: he's the reason I'm still alive; I love him as if he were my kid, and I'm scared I won't love my children as much as I love him; and that he is an astounding person, and I'll never turn my back on him, no matter what.

I want him to know these things before I'm gone. I want him to know that he's always been the most important person in my life, even before he was born. He is brilliant, and his own person, and ready to debate everybody on everything, etc. But he should know these things before I'm gone from this earth. And it's making me wonder what else I haven't said to people, things that they should know -- how much I love them, how much I care, how strong they are, how beautiful, etc. All those things we think but never say.

So here's the challenge...

Tell at least one person the truths that they should know, the things you think but never express in the correct way or context. Try your best. Do it through words, actions, letters, etc. Let the people who changed your life know that they did, and how they did it.

Try it out, and let us know how it goes in the comments or through our contact page.


Love,

Alexis