My Mother lived life with Passion
My Mum and her grand-daughter, Gwenaelle now known as Lexi.
My mother was born a “Sabra” A sabra is someone who is born in Israel , it is also the prickly fruit from the cactus, prickly and spiky on the outside but sweet and warm on the inside. So was my mother. You had to get to know her to know the real woman within.
My mother Liz, Jean Paul and me too the left.
She loved beautiful things, was stylish yet could live the bohemian life barefoot and fancy free on boats. She often forgot her shoes when she would get in a car to go to the city.
She was beautiful, strong, willful and a handful, one loved her or hated her. I guess I did a bit of both sometimes. But mainly, I loved her.
My Mum, me, Marion & Jean Paul many years ago on the boat.
She was an adventurer and full of life and passion. She never did anything half heartedly but with her whole will and power. She loved the 2 men in her life with this same power and passion, my father and my stepfather, both whom I loved dearly.
The 2 loves of her life, Jean Paul to the left and to his right with the beard, my father. Sailing off of Sardinia in Italy.
As a little girl, I remember when she came home from travels full of bags and colourful objects, presents from magical places, Paris, Mexico, Spain. She was the hottest and most fashionable Mom of my little public school in the country in Canada, with her mini skirts, hot pants, big hats and sunglasses of the 60's. I remember being so proud when she came to pick me up, she looked like a movie star to me and the other kids of the school.
She was also fearless. When my parents finally gave into getting me a pony when I was 6, she was the one that offered to ride him first, as she had the most experience. A few riding lessons years ago as a child in Germany. The next thing I knew was she was in the ambulance on the way to the hospital because my pony had bucked her off and kicked her in the back!
Though tall she was light, like a twig, like the model Twiggy from the 60's. But on the boats she pulled the ropes and held the boats as any sailor would, it was her character her will power that gave her her strength. Few men could handle this type of woman, but those who did,loved her forever.
She loved me and supported me in anything I did, even if she didn’t like it or believe it. She would accept it and support me in my decisions and be there when I needed her most. What more can a daughter ask for. She let me choose my own life’s experiences, she wanted me to live my life as I chose, not as she would for me.
My Mum & I in the mountains of the Alpuarras of Spain.
It was through her love of adventure that mine too grew. When she discovered the shores of the Caribbean in Costa Rica with her French husband JeanPaul and they settled here to make a new life, I too was drawn to its magical essence. So I thank my mother and Jean Paul for bringing us to what would become my home and that of my daughters. They began a journey that brought me here. A place where I would grow and evolve and discover myself and the power to be a woman and stand strong.
My Mum with the love of her life, Jean Paul in Cahuita, Costa Rica 1996
Yesterday we took a boat out to sea in front of Playa Grande, the beach those many 26 some odd years ago, where she and Jean Paul first came to these shores of Costa Rica. She would walk that beach and coral front looking for the right place to settle their roots and create a new adventure. My 2 daughters, her grand-children Lexi and Eve, Pascale our family friend and I carried the ashes of my mother & the love of her life, Jean Paul to set them free to once again sail the seas on a new adventure together.
Ashes to the sea, flowers floating, red for passion, blue for the sea. Love & life.
I honour the life and experiences my mother gave to me & I let her go to the wind, to the sea, from ashes to ashes and dust to dust we all return. Her love and her spirit strong and true forever.
What is above is below and what is below is above.