Succession succession, the passing of role, responsibility, or knowledge from one person or generation to the next, is how continuity becomes real. Someone leaves. Someone else steps in. The office, the craft, the story, the land—it moves from one pair of hands to another. Succession is not automatic. It has to be prepared. The one who will receive has to be chosen or to put themselves forward. They have to be taught. They have to be trusted. The one who is leaving has to be willing to let go and to pass on what they know. When that happens well, the chain holds. First, we notice that a role or a body of knowledge depends on a person. When that person is gone, what will happen? Then we plan. We identify who might come next. We give them access. We teach them. We let them practice. We step back when they are ready. Succession can be formal—a title, a ceremony. It can be informal—a craftsperson takes on an apprentice, a parent teaches a child. In both cases, the key is the handover. Something that was in one place is now in another. Succession can fail. No one is ready. No one is willing. The one who holds the knowledge refuses to share. The one who might receive is not given a chance. When succession fails, knowledge and role can be lost. So thinking about succession in advance—who will do this when I cannot?—is part of stewardship. When we pass that habit on, we make it more likely that the chain will hold. Who will take your place in something you care about? Have you told them?