My maternal grandmother (and last living grandparent) passed away recently at the age of 92. She lived a full life, even though toward the end she couldn’t move with the ease she once had. Her spirit, though, remained unmistakably resilient. Just a few days after celebrating her 92nd birthday, I had the honor of being by her side, along with many of my cousins, mother, aunts, and uncles, with other cousins and my own children joining remotely. As she approached her last breath, I kissed her forehead and whispered, “you are okay,” the same way she used to comfort me when I was a toddler.

As her first grandchild, I had the joy of spending nearly every weekend with her until my preteen years. One of my favorite things to do was ask, incessantly, for stories, whether it was nap time or bedtime. She always obliged, no matter how tired she might have been, simply because she knew how much I loved it. Her stories ranged from folk tales passed down through generations to her own versions of the Ramayana and the Mahabharatha. I never wanted her to read them; I wanted her narrations, her voice, her embellishments, her unmistakable flair. Oh, what fun that was.

At her last rites and pre-cremation service last weekend, my uncle shared a deeply heartfelt tribute. Through stories, some familiar, others completely new to me, he captured her essence beautifully. When he finished, I wasn’t the only one choked up. It was clear to everyone in the room that my grandmother was, a) a legend, and b) someone who left behind a legacy of love, kindness, and togetherness that was now carried forward by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. May we all be so lucky.

Her passing made me reflect on the power of stories, especially the stories that make up a legacy. In my work in philanthropy, I’ve long believed in the ability of storytelling to shift narratives. Nonprofits, in the grant-seeking process, submit applications outlining their mission, vision, programs, needs, and projected outcomes. Necessary, yes, but often dry. I’ve encouraged leaders to think instead about the arc of their organizations and their own leadership as stories. Stories engage. And engagement is the foundation of sustainability.

In my new work as an executive coach and strategic thought partner, I see a similar opportunity for leaders. What stories do you want your colleagues and stakeholders to tell about you? When your legacy forms, which stories will it rest on?

As I move through midlife, I’m thinking more intentionally about the stories I’m leaving behind, personally and professionally. And honestly, it’s a far more energizing, enjoyable exercise than filling out a vision for lifetime impact. I care about what people will say about me, and how they’ll say it. If those stories reflect what I hoped to create in this world, then I’ll have done what I set out to do.