It started with the text messages, flying among mothers, daughters, sisters, and friends. RBG had died.

A profound sadness settled over the shared loss of one who had such an impact on women. We reached for one another’s hands because the loss was enormous, and the fallout would be contentious. That Friday evening we grieved together for an icon: the Supreme Court Justice known as Notorious.

Later, as I gazed at the photo of her walking, in deep conversation with President Obama, tears welled up. Tiny, draped in a shawl, wearing a lovely dress, hosiery, buckled shoes. Without her judicial robes, she was a Jewish grandmother, someone’s Bubbie. I wanted to hug her. I recalled the images of my late mother and mother-in-law in their final years. The tears flowed.

photo: medium.obama.com

Ruth Bader Ginsburg was born the year after my mother’s birth. She was of the generation of women on whose shoulders we stand today. (Gloria Steinem was born the following year.) RBG’s daughter is a few years older than me; her granddaughter is close in age to my daughter, who was born the year RBG became an associate justice of the Supreme Court.

My mom was not an activist or trailblazer; she was the daughter of an Oklahoma professor and homemaker. They were staunch Methodists who valued education. My mom was lucky to have the opportunity to pursue a college degree, but she was of a time that offered limited opportunities for women, typically in nursing, teaching, or clerical roles. She chose teaching but gave it up to raise her family as a minister’s wife. She was a lipstick-wearing rule follower all her life.

At the time my parents divorced, stigma was still attached, perhaps even more for a former preacher and his wife. Mom couldn’t open a credit card in her own name or serve on a jury. She returned to teaching as a single mom of 3, though my father paid child support and was certainly no deadbeat dad. His name remained on her telephone bill and phone book listing until the account was closed. She faced breast cancer and clinical depression alone. It wasn’t until later in my own life, as her memory was fading, that I realized how strong she had been.

But RBG? She merged a traditional path of marriage and family with one of breaking down barriers, including the gender-based injustices of the times. She attended law school as one of only nine women in her class. Though she had difficulty securing a job after graduation, she found her way in the legal system by chipping away at those barriers and with empathy for the people facing them. She helped ensure my mom could have a credit card and equal pay. The cases she tried as a lawyer and those she ruled on as a judge addressed gender discrimination, abortion rights, fair pay, search and seizure, marriage equality, and more. She believed her famous dissents could educate and lay a foundation for future legislation, which they did. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruth_Bader_Ginsburg

Mom was traditional, but more forward-thinking than maybe I gave her credit for. She accepted my close friendship with a gay male in high school, though she admitted not having recognized homosexual friends from her past. She didn’t freak out when I registered for the draft at 18, along with that male best friend for whom it was mandatory. She probably paid for my subscription to the norm-breaking MS. Magazine and my first membership in NOW. She supported equal opportunities for me, her only daughter, and I never considered an option other than college and career. When my dad remarried, she (and they) committed to ensuring the relationships among the adults and combined 7 children were positive and without bitterness.

My mother never had a wiki page. Her final journey was a long one through dementia, during which I became the caretaker daughter while working full time and raising my own family. It was often overwhelming for me, but she taught me a great deal in her grace. Her passing was both a blessing and an enormous personal loss.

RBG became one of my feminist Sheroes, though she didn’t appear on my radar until her Supreme Court nomination. My loss. I’m so thankful for the “RBG” documentary and “On the Basis of Sex” movie that were released over the last couple of years. I learned about her background and how she raised a family and nursed a husband through his cancer treatment while still in law school. I saw how she quietly but firmly challenged the treatment of women in that male-dominated sphere. I gained even more respect for this tiny woman who made a monumental impact on my generation, my gender, our country.

RBG hung on for us, not letting her illness slow her down for so many years. At a time of life that many of us would want to relax and enjoy, she continued with her work. She wanted to retire during the term of the first woman president; and when that didn’t happen, she bravely set her sights on the 46th president’s inauguration. She knew what her death would mean to the Court, and she staved it off almost long enough.

I am sad for her family and their deep personal loss of their mother and Bubbie. I am sad and fearful for our country.*

We the People gathered on the steps of the Supreme Court to pay tribute. I wished I were there. My words are the alms I offer. Rest in peace and power, Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

*Sadly, the politics of it began within an hour of her passing. The hypocrisy among Republican Senators wanting to replace her immediately was unapologetically laid bare. The erosion of rights that could result from the death of one woman, one Supreme Court Justice, is staggering to contemplate. Health care may be the first battle, and it’s one that will jeopardize the coverage of millions, in a pandemic no less.