The brothers know

My two older brothers came over at noon today and I told them about my osteosarcoma and how it will require having my leg amputated and has spread to my lungs so even if I do get my leg amputated it will probably kill me in a year anyway, even if they can take out what's in my lung right now.
They handled it well, giving advice and all that. The main thing they said to do is to wait until I'm a hundred percent sure about everything (I have two meetings coming up this week that will reveal much, most of which I doubt I'll be happy to hear).
It's good for them to know this because some things may happen faster than you'd think—the amputation, for example—so getting prepared mentally will be good for them.
Meanwhile, I think about dumb stuff like my legacy, or lack of it, not having had children or done anything that will outlast me. 
I have two nieces and nephews. Two are the age when getting married and having children wouldn't be a bad idea, if they want to. The other two are a little young for that. They're still in college. 

My father weeding around his mother's grave stone.

In any case, I want one of them to tell me they'll name a son after me or, if it's a daughter, give her my middle name. 
Names have never meant much to me. Sometimes I'll meet someone who gets genuinely angry if you get his or her name wrong. They get all, "It's who I am. It's my name!"
Please. Your name is an arbitrary label your parents gave you. You can change it if you want, and many do. I've head that in some regions of America people call cars and trucks "vehicles." Fine with me. I eat hoagies, sometimes.
But now I'm imagining a twelve-year-old boy looking through an old photo album and seeing a picture of me. "Who's that?" he asks my niece or nephew. They tell him it's his grandfather's brother, who died before he was born. The kid goes, "Huh," and turns the page.
What if, instead of that, my niece or nephew says, "That's the man you were named after. He died before you were born." The kid looks at the photo for several seconds. 
Then he says, "What was he like?"