Coming Into My Own (But Not Alone)

The women who defined me are still with me

By Penny Marshall

As I was growing up, people would often, “I can sure tell who you belong to you look just like your dad.” When I was old enough to take notice, I would witness my mother wincing at such comments not because she didn’t like that I looked like him, but because there was never acknowledgement that she and I shared a resemblance.

As years went by, my mother responded to those comments with “Well I did have something to do with it!” That’s when I was old enough to know what embarrassment was. Then when I was 40-something and in another city, I ran into a gentleman from my home town. I greeted him by saying “You don’t remember me do you? I’m Mr. Thomsen’s daughter.” His mouth dropped open as he studied my face. “You know, you look just exactly like your mother did when she was your age and she was a very beautiful woman.”

I couldn’t wait to get to the nursing home to share his words with my mother. When I did, a slow, deliberate smile emerged from the fixed, expressionless look painted on her face. A bright twinkle danced from her baby blue eyes. Finally. She received acknowledgment that was long overdue.

Even though my parents and grandparents have passed away, I’m still reminded by others, and myself, of my resemblance to them.

Not too long ago I was visiting with a friend when she stopped me in mid-sentence to say “You know, you sounded exactly like your grandmother (my mother’s mother) when you said that.” Then just the other day I walked passed a mirror and quickly returned for another look. There she was. My father’s mother in my reflection.

I haven’t seen her since she passed away nearly 40 years ago. But there she was. And for some reason (that I found rather odd) the experience didn’t make me feel old but rather very much at peace. Whole and fulfilled. Like a circle had been completed. Previously, I had felt that I’d “come into my own” because I am comfortable and accepting of the woman I’ve become. I acknowledge my strengths and weaknesses, celebrate my successes, make peace with my failures, love harder and hate less. But seeing yet another woman who defined in great part who I am today made me realize that perhaps there is more to the “my own” part of the process than I had realized. 

Penny Marshall works for MayoClinic.com and is a freelance writer.