03/01/2022
And before I knew it, it’s been a year. One year exactly since I started River Rock Law. I’ve thought about what I would say to people – that in some ways it feels like 3 years since I started the firm but in other ways only four months. That I never fathomed being as busy and successful in my first year of business. That I finally can say that I really enjoy practicing law and that being my own boss was the evidently the missing element. That all my hard work has been worth it.
And I think of the things I will say – the common theme being “Thanks for everything!” Special thanks to my family and friends. They are my promotors, my sounding board, my champions, and have even been my couriers! Special thanks to Andrew Maloff (my husband), Greg Locke (my brother). Your words of encouragement are so appreciated. And to Sterling Lawrence of Lawrence Law, and Tracy Spilde of Quest Law. Truly, you are my village elders in this endeavour, and I am so grateful for your willingness to share your wisdom and experience.
But even more then things that I could say and will say to people are the things I wish I could say to one individual in particular – my mom.
I miss you everyday, and I know that I am the woman I am because of you. In fact, if it wasn’t for your jovial yet relentless nagging, I would not be a lawyer. People often ask why I decided to become a lawyer and I tell them the truth – that you have pegged the careers of all your children. Clearly you should have been a career counsellor as all four us stayed in our respective professions. I fought you the longest and the hardest and finally in complete exasperation said “Ok! If I take my L-SAT and apply to two law schools and I don’t get in, can we consider this conversation over?!” You agreed…and darned if I didn’t get in.
I want so badly to know what you would say to me today. I don’t think that you would say that you were proud of me…not that you aren’t, it’s just not your style. I might elicit a “good for you” as that was your standard accolade for many years. I don’t know if you would say much of anything. But you would smile. It would be that warm smile that exuded pride with just a tinge of smugness that you knew this would happen. And maybe that’s what you would say to me. That you knew that I could do it all along.
As morbid it as it sounds, it was your death that changed my view of what I could accomplish, what I was willing to risk, and the realization that failure was not the worst thing that could happen to me. With the grief and the heartache came the inevitable realization that life is too short not to take chances and try to make yourself as happy as possible. And maybe that’s why today is both joyous and wistful – that the end of your life emboldened me to live mine more fully than I dared to. And I am happier because of taking that chance. Thanks, Mom. I love you.
