The words you leave speak about who you were
Think about all the words you have written. Now think about someone going through all of the published, and more importantly perhaps, the unpublished. Is there anything you don’t want read? What will someone think when they see the words?
The evidence we leave
So, for this little “play the evidence” game, imagine that if you never walked into your office or house again, what would be found? What would be in your desktop, laptop, tablet, phone and diary? I’m not sure, but I think that the words we leave behind, the words we leave because we had no warning or choice in the matter, will probably speak volumes about us.
Look around. See anything with your writing on it? Any notes, shopping lists, journal entries, unpublished stories? Is there anything written in anger, never sent but still in your draft box? When someone reads it, will they immediately think of you? What will those thoughts be?
What words are you going to leave; all those words that simply say you? What are the memories going to say? Will those memories forever be changed by the words never seen until you’re gone? Are they happy memories? Sad ones? When people think of you will they do so with a smile or a frown? Will the words now change it? Imagine a life so lived that, when it was over, only bad memories were left. What words are you leaving?
Some of us leave behind many things – material and otherwise – when we depart this world. Some of us leave very little and some of us leave nothing more than a whisper. The end can come so quickly, without any warning, that when it actually happens, those left to pick up the pieces – and read the words – are unprepared. Some reading the words will smile, some will cry, some will be saddened, and some will be ashamed. What words are you leaving?
Don’t leave a mess. Let your truth speak; let you come through every word you write and leave. Write well, walk softly and let the imprint be good.
Still Amazed 
That was very cool of him. I hope I can do something like that…other than just whine which is my natural inclination.
Lovely, Miles. Just lovely. I hesitate to think what my desk would say about me -other than that I was way behind on my filing. My mother’s second hudband died of cancer and when she went through his office he had left notes saying he had paid the bills several months in advance and had stuffed $100 bills throughout his office, every one accompanied by a love note. She was so moved that, when she discovered what he had done, spread the search out over several weeks.