Living with Loren

Heritage. What is that? Is it a way of life? Is it principles? Is it family values? Is it nature versus nurture? Is it the way you eat? The foods that become your comfort, your tradition? Is it the music that makes you feel something deep in your bones? The sweetness in your tea? The sugar versus salt debate in your grits? The way you cook your spaghetti? Do you even eat spaghetti?

Heritage is all these things and more. It is the collective rhythm of those who came before us, the stories they told, the lessons they passed down, and the blueprint they left for us to follow—or to adapt. I find myself in a space where, as my cousin would say, the giants of our family—the pillars, the wisdom keepers—are aging, and some are beginning to transition. We have been immensely blessed to have our great aunts and uncles, my grandmother’s siblings, for so many years. But with their passing, a shift is happening.

In January of 2024, we lost the first of that generation. In October, another. And now, in April, we have yet another that has transitioned. There is something deeply humbling about this knowledge, about watching someone who has lived a full, rich life begin to take their final bow. They have run their race well, poured into us, and left us with a legacy of resilience, joy, and love.

But what does it mean to now step into the role of the legacy bearers? How do we transition from being the recipients of heritage to the keepers of it? How do we honor those who came before us while also making space for healing and growth?

Heritage is not just about preserving the past; it is about understanding how the past shapes us and deciding what we carry forward. It is about healing generational wounds while holding onto generational wisdom. It is about acknowledging the strength of our ancestors while giving ourselves permission to redefine what legacy means for us.

Healing is a part of heritage, too. It is found in the conversations we have about the things our elders didn’t always say out loud. It is in the laughter at family gatherings, in the recipes passed down and slightly tweaked, in the music that still plays even if the dance steps have changed. It is in the way we show up for each other, the way we love our children, the way we forgive, the way we learn to be gentle with ourselves.

So, as the torch is passed, we do not just inherit names, traditions, or even grief. We inherit the responsibility to keep building, to keep telling our stories, to keep loving, to keep healing. This is heritage. And this is how we honor those who came before us—not just by remembering them, but by living fully, intentionally, and with the courage to both hold on and let go.

This post is dedicated to Gwendolyn, Ecleamus, Patricia, Valencia, Sonja, Cantrell, Craig, Danny, Lester, and Amy. My pillars, my GIANTS. Rest well to those who have made their transition and be at peace to those who are still with us. You have done well, and the legacy will continue.

And now, I ask you—who are your giants? Who are the voices that have shaped you, the hands that have held you, the traditions that have guided you? What will you carry forward, and what will you create anew? Heritage is not just ours to inherit; it is ours to shape for those who come next.

Until Next Time,

Keep Living!

Love, Loren