The Day I Really Saw My Mother
Remembering the conversation that taught me my mother was not just strong — she was human.
“I am only going to talk about this once, Vicki. There are things you should know.” That got my attention. I was in my early teens, and my mind filled with possible topics.
We were sitting in the car. It was a normal Saturday and Mom and I were doing errands in our Chevy Impala, a 4 door sedan that felt like driving in your living room. Like riding on bubble gum, bouncing along the road.
Always the fashionista, Mom was sharply dressed in a summer suit, matching bag and shoes, and perfectly coifed hair. Her words, like her outfit, were carefully chosen for maximum impact. Efficient and effective.
“I was married to someone else before your father.”
Did The World Just Turn Upside Down?
My mother built a career as a respected researcher in the defense community, her book The Test of War her crowning achievement. My father, also in the DoD, provided the steady, calm and loving support she needed and was the bedrock of our nuclear family of 4. Except now it turns out there was someone before him.
To a girl of 13 or 14, this shook my world. The idea that the pillars of my life — my parents — had full lives, histories, heartbreaks, and mistakes that existed before our family did, simply didn’t compute. Until that moment, I had only understood them as Mom and Dad. Nothing else.
As with most mothers and daughters, our relationship was complicated and simple, all at the same time. She was my comforter, tutor and taskmaster all rolled into one.
She was brilliant. She graduated from high school at 16, having skipped 2 grades. She was accepted to John’s Hopkins when women didn’t attend college (her father refused to let her, women got married and had babies). She worked her way through George Washington University (undergrad and grad) and graduated Phi Beta Kappa.
The Revelation
She married her high school sweetheart and divorced him during this period, when he hit her for the last time. She had to show the police the bruises so she could file a police report as reason for divorce (“irreconcilable differences” was not a reason for divorce in the 40s).
“I met my first husband when I was very young. He was handsome and charming and swept me off my feet. But he wasn’t who I thought he was. He was violent and drank. He hit me.”
“I was in grad school and I didn’t know what to do. One night he got so mad I left our apartment and sat on a bench under the streetlight, studying. I didn’t go back.”
She called her mother in Baltimore and went home to her. That’s when she filed the police report.
Removing the Mask
As she recounted this to me, I was speechless. If I were older I might have asked questions, but I didn’t have the life experiences to even begin to process this. It was like she removed a mask that hid the scars from a previous time. She was vulnerable, even fragile, so unlike the face she presented to the world - her accomplished, strong exterior.
I’ll never forget the day Mom took the mask off, just for a moment. She revealed the woman underneath — a woman who loved deeply, was hurt deeply, and made mistakes along the way. But also the most resilient, determined, and tough person I had known in my short life.
A warrior.
I’m not sure why she chose that day, or why she decided to tell me then. But something about it has remained with me to this day. She was revealing part of her life story to me — almost as an acknowledgment that I was stepping into a larger world of boys, trust, relationships, and decisions.
A world where love and mistakes coexist. Where choices carry consequences. Where people are rarely all good or all bad, but beautifully and painfully human.
“I tell you this so you’ll know that some things aren’t always as they seem. I want you to know this about people, too.” Universal words of wisdom, passed from mothers to daughters for generations.
Of Legacies and Courage
We all have stories of our Mothers, good or bad, tender or harsh, that have at least partially defined who we have become. Looking back, I recall this brief exchange - revelation - as an act of bravery. Having the courage to tell her daughters - it turns out a similar exchange occurred with my sister - of a previous and imperfect life, strikes me now as a way to reveal her unique and very human story. She shared one of the stories of her life that made her who she was.
She was helping her young daughter make that transition from childhood into a new stage of life — the time when we begin to understand that each of us carries a rich and complicated history, shaped by love, pain, mistakes, resilience, and experience. The very things that make us who we are today.
After this conversation, our family never spoke of this time in Mom’s life, or even the man’s name or what became of him. The experience informed my mother’s perspective but she never let it define her. Even so, it was there, everyone knew of it, but didn’t speak of it. This knowledge created a family bond, unspoken and unbroken.
And I realize now that she passed something else on to me that day — a legacy. One of resilience, courage, and belief in herself, even through hardship.
A Tender Warrior, indeed.
My mother passed away in 2013, at age 92. For 60 years she and my father lived a full, rewarding and fulfilled life. And in her own way, she passed on her experience and wisdom to her daughters.
Maybe she didn’t realize it, but we heard her.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.
