I'd like to be remembered as someone who made people feel welcome. I'm a sixty-year-old shop owner in Penang, Malaysia, and I've run a small hardware shop for over thirty years, so I've had plenty of time to think about this.
Mostly I'd like my customers, neighbours and my grandchildren to remember me that way. I'm not interested in being famous. I'd just like people to say, 'Uncle Lim always had time for you.'
What I do now is actually quite simple. I keep a kettle and some chairs at the back of the shop, so anyone can sit down for tea, whether they buy something or not. Lots of elderly men in the area come in the afternoon just to chat. When new families move into the street, especially foreign workers, I help them find things, explain local rules and sometimes lend them tools. I've also taught my grandchildren to greet everyone who comes in, which they find embarrassing but do anyway.
This matters to me because of my own father. He came to Penang as a young man with almost nothing, and he often told me how lonely and lost he felt at first, until an old shopkeeper took him in and gave him work. That kindness changed his whole life, and eventually mine. Nobody remembers that shopkeeper's name now, but our family still talks about him. I think that's the best kind of legacy. Buildings fall down and money gets spent, but if people feel they belonged somewhere because of you, that memory gets passed on.