The Thread That Binds Us
Every life is part of a long, shimmering thread, woven from stories of survival, hope, and love. When I trace mine backward, I see my ancestors, with gratitude, not as dusty names in history, but as living sparks of courage. My mother’s parents came from the Czech Republic in the early 1900s, leaving behind the known to cross an ocean toward possibility. My father’s family, from Denmark and England, worked hard, raised families, and kept faith through hard times.
Because all of them survived… I am. Each decision they made, to persevere, to love again, to take one more step forward, shaped the ground beneath my feet. Their strength became my inheritance.
The Choices That Planted Me Here
I think about how their choices rippled through time, planting me right here in Silicon Valley, not digging potatoes in frozen soil, but digging for ideas at the dawn of the high-tech era. What an unlikely, miraculous chain of cause and courage.
Their determination gave me a foundation of freedom. They struggled so that I could create. They sacrificed so that I could dream. When I look at my life ,the beauty around me, the opportunities I’ve had, the people I love, I can almost feel their hands on my shoulders, steadying me, proud that their journey led to this place.
A Life Still in Motion
And now, at seventy-two! Can you believe it? Seventy-two and still alive, still curious, still grateful, still learning. “Ancora Imparo.” I’ve lived fast at times and hurt myself along the way, physically, emotionally, spiritually. I’ve fallen, risen, learned, and yes, died twice, once at five, once at twenty-nine, and somehow returned both times, as if life itself wasn’t done with me yet.
Each near-death brought a deeper knowing: that existence is precious, fragile, and infinite all at once. It’s as if my ancestors whispered, Stay. There’s more to do.
Conversations Beyond the Veil
In recent years, my spiritual practice has deepened into what I once might have called “woo woo.” But at seventy-two, I don’t care what anyone thinks, I’ve earned my woo!
When I meditate, I often sense my ancestors gathering at the edge of the veil, familiar presences, waiting patiently in the light. I talk with them. I ask how I can help them rest, how I can ease their old sorrows or fears. And sometimes I simply say thank you.
There’s a beautiful reciprocity in these moments, as if love flows both ways across time. When I offer them forgiveness, I feel healing in my own heart. When I send them kindness, I receive understanding in return. Gratitude becomes not just remembrance, but relationship, an active, living dialogue between souls.
Living Their Legacy
I believe our ancestors don’t want us to live their lives over again; they want us to live fully because of them. To take what they began and evolve it into joy. To use the freedom they fought for to create something beautiful. As a woman, to take advantage of the Silicon Valley career opportunities that were open to me that my women ancestors would never have dreamed of.
Every time I write, share, or simply look at the beauty around me, I’m continuing their story. Their strength flows through me; their love breathes in me. Gratitude is how I honor them, by living awake, curious, kind, and unafraid to cross boundaries between the seen and unseen.
A Circle of Gratitude
Today, on this day of remembrance, I bow to all who came before. Those who built, who hoped, who endured, who dreamed me into being. My gratitude rises like incense, a bridge between worlds, carrying love where it’s needed most.
I am because they were.
And in quiet moments, I can almost hear them whisper back:
We are, because you are.