A mother-in-law like no other
What is the definition of a mother-in-law? The mother of your husband or wife.
That seems so simple, and yet it barely scratches the surface of over 23 years of Hope in my life.
They say when you marry someone, you also marry their whole family. That can be good, bad, or complicated. Sometimes, though, luck is on your side. Even after my divorce, Hope stayed by my side, steady, unwavering, and incredible as always. Our relationship and love for each other never faded, and we said we were getting rid of each other. I was there for Hope, too, always. We would talk about everything. There wasn’t something we wouldn’t share.
As life nears its end, reflection always arises. What did I do correctly? What did I do incorrectly? Will I have regrets? Most people never gain full closure. But with Hope, we did. We always expressed everything to each other. I told her I would marry her son countless times in every lifetime to have her as my mother-in-law. She told me I was the daughter she always wanted. The kids and I got to say goodbye to her, and she gave each of us one last piece of advice and a hug filled with love.
We were kindred spirits. We laughed endlessly, shared movies and TV shows, swapped Christmas bags and Tupperware for decades. She joked that those would outlive her, and of course, she was right. She gave the best and most thoughtful birthday and holiday presents. In all our years together, she only once got us a piece of art that I didn’t love. Just once. She knew my taste and always found such creative presents that I had never seen before.
Hope was my rock. She helped me become a mom, took breaks whenever I desperately needed them, and was there for every milestone with the kids. She offered advice without overstepping her boundaries, waiting for me to ask for her opinion. Friends often asked about our loving relationship, and we laughed that we were good for each other. She said she was the Grandma, and she knew her place. She wasn’t just that for me; she was that for everyone in her life. She was Aunt Hope, Aunt Hopie, Hopie, Grandma to everyone.
She hated taking photos. She never liked herself in any pictures, and getting her to smile or laugh in a photo was a feat. She always knew I would ask. And she never said no. And I always had to say, “Smile, Hope,” and then a faint smile would come across her face. She still hated having to go through it. I swear I wasn’t holding her hostage in any of them – it would seem so by her expressions. But I am forever grateful I have so many photos.
Her wit and side comments became legendary. Her stories about her own life never ran out, and she continued to surprise us with new adventures, even in her later years. She had a wild streak, and her adventures suited the strong woman she was. I knew that if she was going to tell a story about her life, I couldn’t drink any beverage. I was known to choke on my drink, trying to hold back laughter.
Hope was my biggest cheerleader, always saying there was so much more to come into my life, including my work, Herstories, and falling in love again. She believed with all of her heart and was always there to complement me. When I lost my 50 lbs of weight, I would be so excited to spin around for her and show her my butt, etc She was so proud of my journey to become myself.
She absolutely loved NYC and Broadway. When she was sick in January, I asked what would motivate her to get better. Without hesitation, she said, “Broadway.” So off we went, Hope, Alexander, Madeline, and I in May. We saw three Broadway shows, ate more cheesecake than we should have, and soaked in four unforgettable days together in her favorite place. Later, she quietly admitted she knew it would be her last trip.
Her love for her family and grandchildren was endless. She wanted to hear every detail of their lives, never judging, only supporting. When we moved to my old house, she started to get confused about our new location with all the ATL traffic changes – she was used to our previous house for 15 years, the kids happily took turns picking her up and dropping her off. I often volunteered to get her, but she insisted it was her special time with each grandchild. Each child loved having their undivided attention. She loved our dogs like her own, letting them crawl into bed to be with her when she was sleeping over.
She was there for me through the loss of both my parents and even during the passing away of Darwin, our beloved dog. We celebrated life together with countless glasses of champagne, and I knew all her favorite foods and drinks by heart. She always had a robe in the closet at my house, and I kept her hair products in her bathroom. I always kept 2% milk in the fridge, waiting for her next visit.
The last time she was at my new house in July, she wandered around slowly, almost absorbing every detail of my home. She would ask me where I got something, and if she had seen it before. We sat in a few rooms and just talked. She loved my new home as much as I did, especially its peaceful, wooded atmosphere. She made sure I always had bird food filled and that the hummingbirds were cared for.
She told the kids the best nighttime stories when they were younger. They were creative and detailed. I only wish I had recorded them—true legends. There wasn’t a board game she wouldn’t play with the kids, for hours on end. She never said no. And she wouldn’t let the kids win unless they had earned it. She believed it was good for learning to lose.
Last November, I took her to see Derek Hough. She had the best time ever. I got her VIP seats, and she was happier than she’s ever been! She was thrilled when I confessed that I really enjoyed it too!
We celebrated almost every Thanksgiving and Christmas together for 23 years. She always made the most incredible deviled eggs. Award-winning! The best sugared icing on Christmas cookies.
While my mind knows she is at peace, my heart will always long for just one more toast. She told the kids to look for butterflies, saying she would be watching over them. She told me she would come as a hummingbird. Both of her spirit animals appeared that very day, and if anyone could make that happen, it was her.
I like to picture my parents and Darwin waiting for her, welcoming her with open arms and a glass of champagne.
Thank you for everything, Hope. I will love you forever and am endlessly grateful for you.