The Light She Chose to Be: Lessons on Love, Strength, & Living Fully

Today is my mom’s birthday. Though she passed on some years ago, her presence continues to guide me in ways that still surprise me—sometimes in quiet reflection, and other times, like on a jungle trail in Costa Rica, with a clarity that shakes me to my core. As I’ve grown and healed, I’ve realized more deeply than ever that my mom, Maureen—or “Mo” as some called her—wasn’t just surviving life with extreme physical limitations. She was choosing to live it with unmatched intention, joy, and purpose.

This piece isn’t just about honoring her life; it’s about sharing the legacy and lessons she gifted to me—lessons in unconditional love, strength, resilience, and how to move through the world with heart.

Positivity- She always saw the best in people. I remember one time when a guy was just being a total jackass—saying mean things for no reason. As I wheeled her away in her wheelchair, fuming, she just said, “Man, that guy really had nice teeth.” That was my mom—always able to find something kind to say. She lived in a glass-half-full world, and I truly mean it when I say she was the most positive person I’ve ever met.

Unconditional Love- Even though she was a quadriplegic with very limited lung capacity and needed help with even the smallest daily tasks, she never made it about her. She always wanted to hear about my day, to be present for others. Whether it was listening or making me laugh, she gave herself fully to others. She just wanted to share love and help where she could-and did it without fluster or fuss—because to her, that’s just what you do.

Service to Others- One time, after she had been admitted to the ICU (again), I went to visit her and panicked when she wasn’t in her room. After some searching, I found her sitting in a stranger’s hospital room—a stroke victim—teaching him how to talk again. And after five hours with her, his family heard his first word. She had every reason to focus on herself, but chose to help, just because someone needed it.

Fortitude and Resilience- Because of who she was and the years I spent watching her battle to get even the simplest daily things done, I always think of her when helping people find their way through job loss or struggle. I remember how she got back to the US after years of teaching overseas, had no job, and found out about a community college position leading Literacy Volunteers for Northern Connecticut. And she decided that it was a perfect fit for her.  She took the handicapped bus there every single day—just showed up—until they hired her. If memory serves correctly, I think they finally relented after a week.  When I asked her how she did it, she said, “I was meant to do it, and I knew I’d convince them eventually.” That’s fortitude. That’s resilience.

Life Is Made of Music- She was always singing—sometimes badly—clicking, humming, whistling, making joyful noise wherever she went. She didn’t even need to know the tune. It drove me nuts sometimes, but it was her. She made life into a song, and the world was her rhythm. Even when her body failed her, her spirit danced. She lived life like it had a soundtrack, and she never stopped singing along.

Do Everything With Heart- She led with heart in everything—supporting me through life’s rough patches, cheering on others, never taking anything personally. She never made me feel like my problems were small, even though hers were objectively massive. She embodied kindness and patience, not performatively, but because that was her natural state. She loved fully and served without hesitation. Always.

Life Is A Limitless Adventure- She was fearless. Despite limited mobility and massive physical challenges, she never let that stop her. She loved travel and often pursued it. When she wanted a new role, she didn’t wait—she literally took the bus and showed up until it became hers. She didn’t wait for permission from life. She lived it—boldly, imperfectly, bravely.

Channel Your Inner Warrior & Have Faith- For most of my life, I thought of her as a victim—of her “shitty meat body,” of abuse, of people's assumptions about her limitations. But during a hike, I had an unexpected download from her—she told me she chose this life as a soul contract. She chose to model unconditional love despite her circumstances. That moment shattered my view of her. She wasn’t a victim—she was a warrior. Her life was a conscious, powerful act of grace. Her strength was never accidental. It was chosen.

As I reflect on all the ways my mom showed up for others—despite being quadriplegic, despite significant physical limitations, despite life throwing every curveball imaginable—I now see her not as someone who endured, but as someone who chose her path to model something greater. She was love in motion, a quiet warrior, and a living reminder that life isn’t about what you can’t do—it’s about what you choose to do anyway. My hope in sharing this is that her light reaches a few more people today. If her story moves you, honor her by giving someone unexpected grace, choosing kindness, or offering help just because you can. That’s how you pass the baton forward.

Note: As I was googling to see if I could find a picture of her working in that role online, I stumbled across some articles that I had never seen. What an incredible gift and I couldn't help but share:

https://www.courant.com/1995/06/04/somers-woman-wins-humanitarian-award-from-uconn/

https://www.courant.com/1995/03/27/former-union-selectman-finds-the-courage-to-end-his-illiteracy/

https://www.courant.com/1995/06/30/inmates-literacy-volunteer-work-helps-him-others/