I saw an ad the other day that asked the question, how do you want to be remembered? (It was for a funeral planning service).

It made me stop for a moment and think. My answer may surprise you, but I don’t want to be remembered for anything.

When my mother passed away in 1984, one of my Dad’s journalist colleagues at The Toronto Sun, Claire Hoy wrote a column about her and her battle with cancer. Claire wrote of my parents, “They had a dog and lived on a quiet, suburban street, enjoying a quiet, peaceful ordinary life. They’re not people who ever made the newspapers. You wouldn’t see their names in the social columns. They won’t be in Who’s Who. No, John and Fran were just, well, common folks…But I’ve never seen a headliner with more guts than Fran Gillies. I’ve never seen a public star with more desire to be a good mother, a good wife, a good person.”

When my Dad died, The Globe and Mail published an article about him as part of their obit series on notable Torontonians who have passed away. My Dad would have laughed at being called notable, but since he worked as a photographer for The Globe and Mail and helped organize the royal tours when the British royal family came to Canada in the 1970s, I guess they thought his passing was worthy of notice.

I’m pretty sure when my toes turn facing up, there won’t be any newspaper article about me. Probably by the time it happens, there won’t be any newspapers left for that matter. I’m perfectly fine with that.

I’ve never felt an urgent need or compulsion to leave a legacy on this planet. If a few dogs remember me, that would make me happy. Hopefully my kids.

I’ve come to terms with the fact I was destined to live a small life. I like my small life. I love my small group of friends and my family, although sadly my family is dwindling each year, unless my daughters decide to have kids one day.

I like my small daily rituals and activities. Morning coffees. Afternoon swims. Playing badminton on Monday mornings. Walks with Bentley.

Atlantic magazine recently published an article called, “To Get Happier, Make Yourself Smaller”. Author and researcher Arthur Brooks said the path to enlightment is through contemplating one’s insignificance. People tend to believe they need to become bigger to be happy, but when we become smaller we achieve peace and perspective.

I was reminded of this a few months ago when I attended the Celebration of Life for our dear friend Bruno Albano. There were no newspaper articles, medals or accolades, just an outpouring of love in the room for an incredible human being.

I asked my 92-year old friend Pamela who I drive to writing class each week how she wanted to be remembered. She said, “As a pain in the ass and for all the crazy things I’ve done over the years.” I thought it was the perfect answer.

How do you want to be remembered? Share your answer in the comments. And if you are like me, and your answer is you don’t, know that there is peace, happiness and meaning in leading a small life.