How Do You Want To Be Remembered?

My Stepdaughter and I were watching a show on television last night about a horrible accident where eight people died. I never worry about death. The way I see it, its part of life. One can only hope that when its time to go, you can look back and simply say "I have lived a good full life and I leave my children prepared to do the same."
There will be tears. I cried when my father died. He led a good full life and he prepared his children to do the same. But I cried because, despite this, I knew I would miss him dearly. He's been gone for many years now, but to me he is still here in spirit because I remember. I keep him alive in the stories I tell of his life. If the kids tell stories, it kind of makes him immortal.
My Grandmother died when I was in college just after this photo was taken. They used this photo taken at my commissioning in 1988 to prep her for the funeral. That didn't bother me as much as the fact that some of my relatives took photos of her in her casket. I wanted to remember her as alive and fussing at me for the length of my shorts or the fact that she hadn't seen me in church lately. I didn't want to look at photos and remember her as laying still in a casket.
This all got me thinking, how do I wish to be remembered?
Will I be remembered as the somewhat nerdy girl who spent her high school years trying to lose herself in drama, art, and chorus (or was I trying to find myself)?
Will stories be told of my Army days, of the time I led my soldiers into Kuwait City to set up communications in spite of my leadership? They didn't think I should because I was female.
Will stories be told of my journey to one thousand miles and beyond and my hope to inspire others to get healthy in spite of age, injury or illness?
Will it be noted that I was a soldier, an Army Spouse, a military mom, a Step mom, a disabled veteran, a former member of the Le Leche League, a Facebook follower, a blogger, a writer? What will be remembered? What will be forgotten?

How will I be remembered? Will I be remembered? And really, what does it matter to me? After all, when the time comes, I'll be gone. I'll be off on new adventures. You know what? I hope my girls raid my closet for the good stuff...and it all fits. :)