How Do You Want to Be Remembered?
I didn’t get to know my cousin Mel Black until after he died.
When he passed suddenly last December, stories began pouring in that revealed dimensions of him I’d never known. Mel had been married to my husband’s first cousin, Joni Goodman, for forty-five years, but we lived on opposite sides of the country. Most of our encounters took place at large family gatherings, where conversations were brief and scattered. Despite not knowing Mel well, I appreciated the kind and steady presence he radiated.
Joni & Mel
Mel was a highly respected defense attorney. A colleague who shared the sad news of his passing on a blog wrote, “When you tried a case with him on your side you had no worries. It was like walking into a schoolyard fight with your big brother who knew karate. Mel was a mentor to young lawyers; admired by all of his colleagues, and a gentleman to all who crossed his path. The word often used to describe him is mensch.”
Many people reflected on how kind, humble, and honorable Mel was, and how compassionately he supported them during their most difficult times. “He was someone I tried to emulate in as many ways as possible,” a lawyer he’d mentored wrote.
His daughter Kadie said, “My dad had a way of making everyone feel seen, heard, and loved. To know him was to be changed by him.”
Mel also lived life to the fullest. He was an adventurer who followed his dreams. When Mel retired, he and Joni spent months at a time—once a full year—sailing together, just the two of them, on their boat Serene. Joni said, “Together we sailed the oceans on our sailboat, trusting each other completely as we crossed seas, navigated storms, and marveled at the beauty of the world. Those years at sea were a reflection of who Mel was—steady, curious, capable, and calm, even when conditions were uncertain.”
Mel and Joni’s boat, Serene
In awe of all I was learning about Mel after his death, I was thrilled when Joni texted me a photo of a piece of paper that she’d just found in his bedside drawer titled, “Advice I wish I had heard and heeded early in life.” Joni can only guess when Mel wrote this, but she thinks it was within the past year, toward the very end of his life.
I thought Mel’s wisdom was so spot on and succinct that I asked her permission to share it with you here.
I love how Mel refers to all of us on Earth as “fellow travelers.” We arrive here in our complex, vulnerable human form without an owner’s manual, which is why advice from someone who’s figured out how to live life in such a beautiful way is so valuable.
Advice I Wish I Had Heard & Heeded Early in Life
by Mel Black
—Center yourself in the present
—Taste life in tidbits to discover what satiates
—Chart a course with equal parts aspiration and common sense
—Be gentle on your fellow travelers and yourself
—Allow the spirit to move you
—Be kind to the only Earth we have
Mel’s advice illustrates that no matter how successful he was in life—how deeply adored he was by his wife, three children, and seven grandchildren—he never stopped reflecting on what it means to live well and how to leave the world better than he found it. Mel had the wisdom and humility to know that none of us have ever “arrived.” We’re always being called to evolve into our best selves.
Thich Nhat Hanh—the late Vietnamese Buddhist monk and peace activist—taught that we do not disappear when we die. We continue on in the people we have touched, the kindness we have offered, and the understanding we’ve helped awaken. Our words, actions, and presence become part of the ongoing stream of life itself.
If our actions are our continuation, as Thich Nhat Hanh taught, then Mel’s life is still unfolding—in the people he encouraged, the love he nurtured, and the goodness he set in motion.
Reflecting on Mel’s legacy reminds me of the certain truth we often lose sight of—that all of us will eventually pass. What we leave behind will be shaped by how we choose to live each day.
And so I find myself asking the question: How do I want to be remembered?
