Our leadership legacy isn’t measured only by what we accomplish. It can also be found in what remains because we were there.
Last week, I wrote about Beretta, my first Great Dane therapy dog, and the many worthwhile invitations we received during his years with Strategic People Solutions. That post brought back memories for several people who knew him. Some simply wrote that they still miss him. Those comments stayed with me because they reminded me of something important about legacy.
Beretta spent 11 years working alongside me. During that time, we made more than 500 visits to hospitals, nursing homes, veterans’ facilities, businesses and community organizations. He joined me in workshops on leadership, team building and conflict resolution. He even became my co-author in Leadership Unleashed: A Great Dane’s Wisdom for the Business World. Those are the things I can count. But they aren’t Beretta’s legacy.
Productivity Tells Us What We Did. Legacy Tells Us What Remains.
We live and work in a world that places enormous value on accomplishment. We count projects completed, clients served, meetings held, goals reached and tasks crossed off the list. I’ve spent much of my career thinking and writing about productivity, including in my book Get Things Done That Matter. The emphasis for me has never simply been on getting more things done. It’s on getting the things done that matter. There is nothing wrong with accomplishment. What we do matters. But I’m beginning to think there is another question that becomes increasingly important as we gain experience: What remains because we did it?
Beretta completed more than 500 visits. That’s an accomplishment. But years later, people still remember how he made them feel. They remember the enormous Great Dane who walked into a room and somehow changed it. They remember the comfort, laughter and connection he created. That is his leadership legacy.
Legacy Isn’t Replication
When Beretta died, there was no replacing him. Nor should there have been.
Then Remington came into my life. Remi follows in Beretta’s paw-steps, but she isn’t Beretta. She has her own personality, her own way of connecting with people and, as anyone who follows these Leadership Lessons knows, her own way of teaching me things. Perhaps that is one of the most important things I’ve come to understand about leadership legacy. Legacy doesn’t require the next person—or the next generation—to become a copy of us.
In organizations, families and communities, we sometimes think preserving a legacy means keeping everything exactly as it was. But a meaningful legacy should be strong enough to continue while also giving others room to make it their own. Something Beretta began continues through Remi. It simply looks different now.
What Are We Building That Can Continue Without Us?
I think this question matters particularly for those of us who have spent decades building businesses, careers, organizations and bodies of work. There comes a point when productivity alone is no longer a sufficient measure. We can ask how much we’ve accomplished. We can count clients, projects, revenue, publications, presentations or years of experience. But eventually another question deserves our attention: What have I created that can continue without me? I wrote about this in an earlier post, years ago.
Perhaps it’s a business that no longer depends on you for every decision. Perhaps it’s someone you’ve mentored who now leads others. It might be a way of working, a set of values, an idea, a program or simply something you’ve taught another person that they now carry forward. Those things may never appear on a productivity report. But they may become an important part of your leadership legacy.
Remi’s Takeaway
Remi never knew Beretta. Yet every time she walks into a room as Chief Happiness Officer, something of the tradition he began walks in with her. She doesn’t need to become Beretta to continue what mattered about his work. Neither do the people who come after us need to become us. Perhaps our responsibility is not simply to accomplish as much as we can while we’re here. It is to build something meaningful enough that another person can pick it up, make it her own, and carry it farther.
Beretta did a great deal in his lifetime. But when someone tells me, years later, “I still miss Beretta,” I am reminded that the most important measure isn’t always what we accomplish. Sometimes it’s the legacy that remains.
A Question to Consider
Think about the work you’ve done, the people you’ve influenced and the things you’ve built. What exists today because you were there—and could continue even if you were no longer the one carrying it? The answer may tell you something important about the legacy you are already creating.