Lessons from a Broken Opal

I was always in awe of my mother when I was a child. The youngest of four, my greatest joy was riding around in the car with her after everyone else had left for school. I felt so special to be the only one to have her attention on those days. We stayed close through my teenage years and rarely fought or even argued. Despite my love for my mother, I always wondered why she put up with things. My father was unfaithful, unkind, and didn’t appreciate the amazing and wonderful woman who was so committed to their marriage. I watched her attempt to resolve that unhappy marriage, endure an ugly divorce, suffer through major illnesses and surgeries, and eventually rebuild her life and end up at peace. Despite all of this, my naive teenage mind thought she was weak and I vowed that I would be stronger in my life, make better choices, and never put up with the things that she did.

When I graduated college in 1990, I decided to move to New York City to start my career. I piled my life into the back of my Geo Metro, tearfully said goodbye to my mother, and drove off to start my new life in the city. I eventually found a job in publishing, made friends, and enjoyed life in my early 20s with little responsibility and non-stop adventure. I called my mom often and entertained her with my stories as she cautioned me to have fun but be careful. She said she envied my independence and advised me to enjoy those years, make sure I had a good career, and not to settle for any of the jerks I seemed to be dating from time to time.

In September of 1996, I received a job offer in Cleveland and decided to move back to the Midwest. I missed my family and was getting tired of the expense of New York. That June, I went to Michigan to visit my Mom and celebrate my 29th birthday. She often took out her jewelry box when I was home. We would go through the items, sharing the meaning of each piece and laughing about the past. All the “good” jewelry meant nothing to her. She would tell me how she knew when my dad was having an affair based on the jewelry he decided to give her. The nicer the jewelry, the more serious the affair. She didn’t know what to do with the stuff, never wore it, and told me that none of it mattered to her. At one point, she picked up a small opal necklace and asked me if I would like to have it as a birthday gift. I love opals and was immediately struck by the beauty of this necklace. It was a simple, small opal set in gold with a tiny strip of diamond chips in the setting across the bottom.

She explained to me that this was the first piece of jewelry that she bought for herself “after the divorce” and that she loved it. It wasn’t expensive or valuable but it meant something to her. She flipped it over and showed me that the opal was cracked and that she had it reset with the strip of diamond chips to cover the crack in the front. She didn’t bother to cover the back because no one could see it anyway and she wanted to be able to show it to people when she trusted them enough to see it. She said she liked the crack and that it was part of the beauty of the necklace. But at the same time, it didn’t need to be on display for everyone to see unless she decided to share it with them. When someone complimented her on the necklace she would either just say “thank you” or share the hidden flaw of the opal, but it was always her choice. Having this broken opal gave her control during a difficult time full of gossip and emotional pain. It was a problem she could fix, a secret flaw she could have under her control, and a symbol of not giving up, even when you feel broken. It was special and I liked it even more after hearing the story behind it. I thanked her for the necklace, said goodbye, and drove back home to Cleveland with the opal hanging proudly around my neck.

My Mom passed away unexpectedly just a few days later. It was June 19th, 1997 and she was only 67 years old. Even though it’s been almost 20 years, it’s still one of those things that always makes me cry when I think about it for more than a few seconds. I miss her. I wore that opal almost every day the first few months after she passed. As my sisters and I cleaned out her home and went through her things, I found other pieces of jewelry that reminded me of her – a gold cross pendant, a tiny diamond necklace, some funky earrings, and my grandmother’s pearls. I still have her opal but I don’t wear it every day or even that often. Except for my wedding ring, almost every piece of jewelry I own belonged to my Mom and although I know she is always with me, she is that much closer when I have on a necklace or a pair of earrings that she owned. But the opal is still the most special. I wear it when I want to share something with her or when I need to know she’s there. I wore it on my first date with my husband, when I go on a vacation to somewhere I know she would have liked to see, when I’m facing a new challenge, or conquering a fear. I wear it when I need to remember the strong woman that raised me, who gave me confidence and taught me how to face life on my own terms. And to be honest, sometimes I just wear it because it looks good with my outfit. But I look at it every day and I think about its story and the lessons she shared with me:

• Never give up on something just because it appears to be broken

• You don’t have to trust everyone with your secrets, but know that those you can trust are truly special in your life

• Beautiful things have special flaws

• Everything is fixable

When I picture a strong woman now, I always think of my Mom and her opal. A strong woman isn’t defined by her career, her feminist view, her ability to choose the perfect mate, or the adventure she seeks. A strong woman is defined by her ability to take a difficult situation and turn it around. She can bounce back from the hard times and still know in her heart that joy is an option. And she understands that weakness is just a temporary perception and real strength isn’t always easy to see.

#family #confidence #strength