The Spiritual Bond Between Mother and I

Joanne Patricia North was born Janauary 25th 1920 and left us February 13th 2017

My mother Jo and I shared a deepJanuaryly spiritual bond. We believed in the same universal energy—an energy we called God—that united us, loved us, and guided us toward unity and purpose. We were both seekers and readers, trusting the divine to speak to us through our souls, resonate with our hearts, lift our spirits, and open our minds. We both saw spirits and spoke with the dead, and we were perfectly at peace with that—it was simply part of how we understood life.

I was incredibly fortunate to travel and go on adventures with my mother. She was beautiful and youthful, so much so that people often mistook her for my older sister. We loved fashion and shopping together, dining out and exploring new foods, hosting parties and delighting in the process of preparing meals and entertaining friends. And oh, how we loved to dance.

I was fourteen when we moved to South Africa—a place where my mother truly came alive. It was there that she discovered who she was and embraced life fully. For those years, she truly lived, truly loved, and truly explored. She travelled, met people, made lifelong friends, and for a time forgot that she had ever been shy or reserved. She adored acting and was an exceptional actress who, in another era, could have gone very far in the industry. She also wrote beautiful stories, one we all cherish, Horatio Mouse, about a mouse who takes over the jungle. She loved words, written, spoken, and played with, loved ones and they came alive when she spoke them.

Timing was never on her side. War, opportunity, and love often arrived at the wrong moment, and she missed the chance to show the world her true gifts. But we saw them, and we were blessed by them.

Many men wanted to marry her; she brought out gallantry in those around her. Sadly, she lost loves through death and never married again. Her marriage to our father was not well suited, and it left her mistrustful of marriage. I also don’t believe she ever truly felt loved, sadness perhaps because she never fully loved herself. That is one of the great sadnesses of her life, for there was so much to love about her.

I will carry with me forever the joy of entertaining, traveling of travelingof hosting dinner parties, popping out for lunch, and shopping for that fabulous outfit that made us feel wonderful. I have carried on the joy of travelling with one of my daughters, and it brings me the same delight. Mum loved playing cards and was an absolute shark, traveled pretending to be the sweet, innocent little old lady while winning every time. The same was true with Scrabble; she adored words and always found the most unusual ones to play.

We lived in different countries for many years. I travelled home to see her, and she came to visit us. I wish we had lived closer, as we loved so many of the same things. My children adored her and loved visiting her in the UK, enjoying her soups, cakes, shepherd’s pie, and, of course, long card games.

We held a tribute to her, cooking the foods she made for us, playing cards, and celebrating the life of a woman who was deeply loved, even if she did not always know it herself. I prayed for her passing so that she would no longer be in pain. I know she is now with the collective energy, home in harmony, love, and divine joy. Still, I miss her. No more weekly calls. No more visits.

Logic may be ruling me now, but my soul longs for her to reach out. She will, in time. For now, party on, dear Mama, your life is now a joyful celebration of peace and everlasting love.