Some people leave a legacy through wealth, status, or accomplishments.
Others leave it through something far more enduring: their presence.
When I recently reflected on my upbringing, I found myself returning, once again, to the woman who shaped nearly every part of who I am today, my grandmother, my Jaja.
I grew up in a small village in Uganda. Life was difficult. We had very little. There were days without enough food. I walked barefoot for miles to school. We lived in a tiny house with a tin roof, without electricity or running water. By many measures, we lacked what people would consider essential.
Yet when I look back, deprivation is not what I remember most.
I remember love.
My grandmother could not read or write, but she understood something powerful: education could change a life. Despite having almost nothing, she did everything in her power to make sure I attended school and pursued opportunities she herself never had.
Sometimes she would untie the small knot she kept in her traditional gomesi dress and hand me the few coins she had saved so I could buy a snack at school. Not because there was abundance, but because she didn’t want me to feel left out.
She showed up.
She attended school meetings. She came to performances. She encouraged my participation in music, dance, drama, and activities that helped build confidence and presence.
Looking back now, I realize that many of the greatest gifts in life have very little to do with money.
They have everything to do with who stays.
The Pain That Became Purpose
One of the most defining experiences of my childhood involved visits from my mother.
She had me when she was very young. Like many young mothers facing difficult circumstances, she moved on to build another life. When she would visit, she often arrived with my half-siblings, beautifully dressed and seemingly surrounded by opportunities I did not have.
As a little girl standing there in torn clothes and bare feet, I remember asking questions that many children ask:
Why me?
Why wasn’t I taken with her?
Why was my life different?
The feelings of abandonment were real.
The hurt was real.
The comparisons were unavoidable.
But over time, something changed.
Through reflection, supportive relationships, and therapy, I began to see my story differently. What I once viewed solely as loss began to reveal itself as something more complex.
The woman raising me with unconditional love was giving me something extraordinary.
The very circumstance I once wished away had placed me in the care of someone who would become my greatest teacher.
That realization did not erase the pain.
But it transformed it.
It helped me move from asking, “Why did this happen to me?” to asking, “What has this experience made possible?”
A Lesson From Kindergarten
There is one childhood memory that remains vivid even decades later.
In kindergarten, there was a girl named Bridget.
She came from a family with resources. She arrived at school in a nice car and carried a flowered lunchbox. Inside were sandwiches spread with butter and jam.
My lunch, when I had one, might be a leftover sweet potato or cassava sprinkled with salt.
One day she asked if we could trade lunches.
Her sandwich for my sweet potatoes.
I remember savoring that bread as though it were the most wonderful food imaginable.
At the time, her lunch represented a life I desperately wished I had.
But years later, that memory taught me something deeper.
Children, and adults too, often focus on what they lack. We imagine that someone else’s life is better, easier, or more complete.
Perspective changes with time.
Many of the things we once envied turn out to matter far less than we imagined. And many of the things we overlooked, love, belonging, guidance, presence, turn out to be priceless.
What Grandparents Give
Today, as a researcher studying grandparent caregivers, I often meet grandparents who have stepped in to raise grandchildren because their adult children cannot.
Some are navigating addiction within the family.
Others have experienced death, divorce, illness, or circumstances beyond their control.
Many are facing financial, social, and health challenges while raising children at a stage of life when they expected different responsibilities.
Yet I see something remarkable.
I see grandparents continuing to show up.
Day after day.
Appointment after appointment.
Meal after meal.
School event after school event.
The work is rarely easy.
But the impact is immeasurable.
Grandparents often do not know how their story will end. They may never see the full results of their sacrifices. Yet every act of care is shaping future generations in ways that may not become visible for many years.
I know this because I am one of those outcomes.
My Grandmother’s Legacy Lives On
When people ask how my personal journey influences my research, the answer is simple.
My story is my guiding star.
The experiences of being raised by my grandmother continue to shape how I approach research, advocacy, and community engagement.
Every interview I conduct.
Every paper I write.
Every effort to increase awareness about grandparent caregiving.
All of it is connected to her.
Her commitment to family, education, responsibility, and giving back became the foundation upon which I built my own life.
Her legacy lives on, not only through me, but through the work dedicated to elevating the voices and experiences of grandparent caregivers.
A Final Reflection
If you are a grandchild being raised by a grandparent, you may not fully understand the sacrifices being made on your behalf.
One day, you will.
And if you are a grandparent raising a grandchild, please know this:
Your work matters.
Your love matters.
Your presence matters.
You may never fully see the reach of your influence, but somewhere in the future, a child whose life was changed because you showed up will carry your legacy forward.
My grandmother did.
And I spend every day trying to honor that gift.