A Friday Reflection on Sincerity

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I find myself thinking about how I’ll be remembered when I die. What will people say? What will actually matter? Strangely, as I get older, I care less about legacy in the traditional sense, titles, accomplishments, recognition, and more about something quieter. Living with sincerity. At least, that is what I tell myself. I still do not mind a little award, some recognition, or the chance to address a room from time to time.

But this idea feels different. It is the latest in what feels like my weekly rotation of fixations, an idea that settles in and quietly hums in the background of everything I do. I get these from time to time, a concept or way of thinking that takes hold and refuses to leave. Truthfully, it has been on my mind for the past few weeks.

My grandfather, Bob Garcia, was a lot of things. But above all, he was the most sincere person I have ever known. There was no facade. No performance. No flattery. No dishonesty to make things easier. With him, what he said and what he did matched exactly what he believed.

He passed away on January 4th of this year. I won’t pretend it’s been easy. I miss him deeply. Just this week, after the dumpster fire that was the President’s State of the Union address, I instinctively reached for my phone to call him. I have found that some old habits don’t disappear just because someone is gone.

We still talk, though our conversations are more one-sided these days. I visit him. I listen to his favorite music. I will replay some of my favorite memories. All of those things preserve him in some way.

But I’ve realized nothing honors him more than attempting to live in sincerity.

For me, sincerity isn’t about being the gentlest or most agreeable person in the room. It’s not about constant politeness or forced kindness. It’s something deeper, a quiet commitment to live honestly. It’s standing up when something isn’t right. It’s saying “I love you” when you feel it, even if pride or fear tells you to stay quiet. It’s admitting when you don’t know something and acknowledging your shortcomings. Sincerity is the courage to be fully yourself without exaggeration, without performance and to simply appreciate that we are here, living in this moment, not taking it for granted. It’s saying, this is me, this is who I am, and I will still give love and receive love not because I am perfect, but because I am real.

Now imagine the weight that would lift if more of us chose to live that way. Imagine conversations that were honest instead of strategic. Leadership that was grounded instead of performative. Relationships built on truth instead of impression. A world where we say what we mean, mean what we say, and move through life without constantly calculating how we are being perceived. That kind of sincerity would not make us weaker. It would make us freer.

That’s the kind of world my grandfather lived in even if the rest of us didn’t always keep up.

He taught me so many lessons big ones and small ones. How to apply wax to a Cadillac. How a suit should properly fit. How to tell whether a Mexican restaurant is going to be good or not. And most importantly, how to put God and family at the center of everything.

He did all of it with sincerity. With honesty. With humility.

The void left by losing a grandparent, especially one who was also your best friend, is almost impossible to describe. It does not shrink overnight. It does not gently fade away.

But when I think about my grandpa, I can’t help but smile. Who had it better than us? We laughed hard. We cried when life demanded it. We learned from each other. We watched our once terrible Royals and Chiefs rise all the way to championships. We traveled. We showed up for each other. And through all of it, we were present. We were real. We did it all with sincerity.

With that, I want to say thank you, Grandpa. I love you. I miss you. I know you would have been out on the porch today, cigar in hand, enjoying the weather without rushing a single moment of it. I carry you with me in the way you taught me to live, by trying, every single day, to live sincerely.