The Hearts that never Left
A mother's love, a journey of resilience, and the unexpected ways we find ourselves again.
The Heart That Never Left Me
Some moments do not ask for your attention—they simply change you.
For me, that understanding began with my mother.
As the oldest of two brothers—one of whom is disabled—I learned responsibility early.
But my mother taught me something even deeper.
She showed me what strength looked like when it was rooted in love.
She was the backbone of our family.
My anchor.
And she had a remarkable way of making ordinary moments feel intentional.
She especially loved jewelry.
I can still picture her standing in front of the mirror, carefully selecting each piece to complement her outfit.
It was never simply about appearance.
It was about how she felt.
Jewelry gave her confidence.
It was her way of showing up fully in the world.
At the time, I did not realize I was witnessing a lesson.
When she passed away in 1990, I lost more than a mother.
I lost the person who made everything feel possible.
When Life Changes Without Warning
I went on to build a life that felt complete.
A 35-year career as a Systems Administrator.
A 17-year marriage.
A home.
Stability.
Structure.
And then, everything changed.
My divorce in 2003 left me standing in a silence I was not prepared for.
I had fought hard to save my marriage, and when it ended, I found myself asking a question I never expected:
Now what?
I had reached the goals I once dreamed of—and suddenly, they were behind me.
As Toni Morrison once said, “If you surrender to the wind, you can ride it.”
At the time, I did not feel like I was riding anything.
I felt like I was learning how to begin again.
Choosing Purpose Again
Not long after, life presented me with a new direction.
I made the decision to move my disabled brother to Wichita so I could care for him.
It was not something I had planned.
But it became one of the most defining decisions of my life.
It taught me patience.
It taught me strength.
And it reminded me that purpose is not always something you find—it is often something you step into.
I was not simply rebuilding my life.
I was redefining it.
A Beginning I Didn’t Expect
Years later, in 2018, a simple suggestion changed everything.
A friend casually mentioned that we should make jewelry and sell it.
We did not continue together.
But something within me did.
I began creating pieces using my mother’s jewelry.
At first, I gave them away.
Small gifts.
Simple gestures.
But with every piece I created, I felt something shift.
It was not merely creativity.
It was connection.
It was her.
What I did not realize then was that this was not just a hobby.
It was a return.
My mother’s love for jewelry had never truly left me.
It had simply been waiting.
Building With Intention
That realization became the foundation of Delyza Jewelry.
What began as a creative outlet evolved into something far more meaningful:
A way to help people feel seen, confident, and enough.
Because I understood what it felt like:
- To question your worth
- To wonder if your best years were behind you
- To ask what comes next
And I also learned that these moments are not endings.
They are turning points.
As Viola Davis once said, “The only thing that separates women of color from anyone else is opportunity.”
So I created mine.
Every piece I design carries intention.
Not simply to be worn—but to be felt.
Because confidence is not about perfection.
It is about acceptance.
The Answer I Wasn’t Expecting
On New Year's Day in 2024, I found myself in prayer.
I was not asking for answers about my business or my path.
Instead, I asked my mother for something simpler:
To hear from her.
To know she was watching over us.
There was no immediate answer.
Only peace.
But a few days later, everything changed.
The Heart That Answered Back
On January 5th—her birthday—I woke up to fresh snow.
I walked to the window.
And there they were.
Two perfect hearts, formed in the snow.
No footprints.
No explanation.
Just two hearts.
I did not question it.
I did not need to.
I knew.
The Message That Stayed
In that moment, something settled within me.
Not just comfort.
Certainty.
Love does not leave.
It remains.
It guides.
It returns when you need it most.
And the message she had always given me remained unchanged:
Do your best… and keep dreaming.
What I Know Now
Life will shift.
Plans will change.
The identities you once believed defined you may no longer fit.
But that does not mean you have reached the end.
It means you are being invited to grow into something greater.
My journey—from daughter, to caregiver, to professional, to entrepreneur—has taught me that resilience is not about holding everything together.
It is about allowing yourself to evolve.
To begin again.
To dream bigger than you once believed possible.
And if there is one thing I hope you remember, it is this:
You are enough.
Not when everything is perfect.
Not when every goal has been achieved.
Not when someone else validates your worth.
Right now.
As you are.
And sometimes, if you are still enough to notice—
Love will remind you.
Even if it arrives as two hearts in the snow.
