I still recall that flight from Miami to our new adventure in England, gliding above the clouds of the mid-Atlantic—my mother donned her signature outfit of faded blue jeans and a flowing blouse, while I was dressed in vibrant purple corduroy from head to toe. We were both literally and metaphorically soaring. At 34, my mother was younger than I am now, and I had just celebrated my 9th birthday. She wore a necklace of purple beads that shimmered with the same openness and free spirit of her Woodstock generation, serving as my beautiful anchor through life’s storms.
We were embarking on a fresh chapter. My mom had fallen for a charming Brit, and we were starting anew. My Peaches ‘n Cream Barbie doll awkwardly perched on the tray table, her dress a striking hue that mirrored the icy landscape beyond the window over Greenland. Growing up in Florida, I had never seen snow until that moment. This unique journey—Barbie, the tundra, and my mother—was our escape.
At that young age, I didn’t fully grasp what we were leaving behind or that we were about to rebuild our lives. I was unaware of the heavy burdens my mother had borne (like my father’s sudden passing when I was just 2 and a half), yet she was the embodiment of resilience, optimism, and stability. Her ability to rise again after life dealt her harsh blows was a remarkable gift.
I was too naive to understand the spiritual journey my mother undertook, shaped by the rigid upbringing imposed by her parents who had lived through World War II. She took bold risks, leaving her support system behind in Florida to explore a new life in England with a man she barely knew. She embraced the unknown, motivated by the question: what did she really have to lose?
Somehow, even at a young age, I sensed that my mother was on a relentless pursuit of joy—sometimes elusive, sometimes right at her fingertips. Her determination to press onward through life’s tragedies and her ability to love unconditionally left an imprint on my heart. Now, facing my own divorce after just seven months of marriage, I find myself drawing on those lessons.
The exhilaration I felt at marrying a man I adored was swiftly overshadowed by his decision to leave. Overwhelmed with grief, I leaned on my mother, who offered wise counsel as she had done throughout my life. To my surprise, I discovered my own resilience, channeling courage to navigate this new beginning—something I never imagined I would have to do as a newlywed.
This transitional phase between marriage and divorce has been tough. I miss my husband and struggle to let go of the love we shared, yet I remain hopeful that joy will return in time. My mother exemplifies the idea that we can live many lives within a single lifetime, with happiness often appearing when we least expect it.
I’ve come to realize that the tools for navigating grief reside within me, shaped by the experiences I shared with my mother. I was her little observer, watching her pursue various careers in teaching, nursing, and paralegal work. I remember her experimenting with fashion—flowing skirts one year and power suits the next. She was always trying, always exploring. Her tireless work ethic and her adventures in dating, though at times filled with disappointment, were a testament to her unwavering spirit. After my father’s death, I became her closest confidant and witness to her quest for fulfillment.
Being a single mother was no easy feat for her. The life she envisioned as a happily married woman was shattered in an instant. Yet she leaned on an incredible support network of family and friends who helped her with everything, from cooking to childcare. I learned early on that we are never truly alone; we just need to reach out for help. I’ve been doing that more often lately.
My mother’s influence on my life has always been significant, but it feels especially profound as I navigate this challenging chapter. Having experienced her own tragedies, including the loss of one husband and the divorce from another, she possesses a deep understanding of grief. As a wise matriarch, her insights and kindness help me heal. I’ve recently recognized the resilience I carry within me, a quality I unknowingly absorbed throughout my childhood.
Today, my mom has blossomed into a talented therapist, discovering her true passion. Although she divorced my stepfather years ago, they maintain a friendly relationship and have both found new love. Recently, she even changed her name from Doris to Joy—she truly embodies that spirit now. While I may not feel particularly joyful at the moment, I know that strength, passion, and love, even amidst sorrow, are qualities I carry forward.
Just like that day when I was 9, my life feels up in the air again. I’m on a journey to uncharted territory, with my mother faithfully standing by my side, a steadfast anchor. It’s my hope to one day exhibit the same resilience and passion for life for my own child, just as my mother did for me. I can’t wait to share stories about how amazing Grandma Joy is with my future family.
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In summary, my journey of self-discovery and resilience has been shaped profoundly by my mother’s example. Her courage and determination to seek joy amid life’s challenges have inspired me to embrace my own strength, as I navigate my path forward.