There’s a grave in Dozenhem military cemetery where the inscription on the headstone reads:
“G. Blacker. Somerset light Infantry. 9th August 1917. Age 39”.
This man existed, and he mattered.
This man was a member of our family. He died for his country in World War 1. And like the others who are buried there in France, he was a living, breathing person. He had hopes, great plans, and dreams.
He was not some nameless soldier.
He had laboured in his farm.
He had had a wife and family.
He was difficult at times.
All these details are important; they are not irrelevant. They describe a unique person. Things that made him who he was.
All our lives are filled with details. Small things. idiosyncrasies.
And like him, you also matter. And you have a history.
Different things that happened to you. Fulfilled hopes, and tender wounds.
You’re a carrier of memories. Good ones. Bad one. Neutral ones.
Some are heartaches. Some are traumas. Things you might want to forget.
Each a stone, or coloured pebble, or a shard in life’s mosaic.
And your impact’s seen and captured in the lives of those you’ve touched. Words, and smiles, and affirmations, thoughtful gestures, kindnesses.
Evidence that your life matters. There are imprints everywhere.
You are not some nameless person.
Your life is significant.
“You might think that you don’t matter in this world, but because of you someone has a favourite mug to drink their tea out of each morning that you bought them. Someone hears a song on the radio and it reminds them of you. Someone has read a book you recommended to them and gotten lost in its pages. Someone’s remembered a joke you told them and smiled to themselves on the bus.
Never think you don’t have an impact. Your fingerprints can’t be wiped away from the little marks of kindness that you’ve left behind.”