Blog #4 My Mom

My mom was gorgeoous. She graduated from Mount Ida College, and worked initially as a secretary. She also was a model, and you can certainly see why from the pictures. People often referred to her as the "Elizabeth Taylor" look alike.

I don't know much about her childhood, but her father, Jack, was a locksmith in Dorchester, Massachusetts. My mom shared that he was a hard worker, and I learned that he provided the keys for the infamous 1950's "Great Brink's Robbery" in Boston, where 2.7 million dollars was stolen. I never met my grandfather, as he had a heart attack and died just before my twin and I were born.

Mom loved to ride horses, and in fact, she was quite athletic. Late into her sixties, she was teaching fifteen aerobics classes a week. She always took meticulous care of herself. I remember each morning she would get up and shower, make her bed and straighten out. Then, she would sit at her mother's antique dressing table, and carefully massage her face with Alexander De Markoff lotion. She would put makeup on, jewelry, and she was set for the day.

Mom had a rough time in the marriage with dad. She was unaware of his mental illness when she married him. At the tender age of twenty-five she had my sister, who was born with Down's Syndrome. Back in 1956, babies born with this were shunned, and my mother was forced to surrender Stephanie to the State by my grandmother.

This tore her apart, and thus, my mom coped with depression and anxiety for the rest of her life. I learned years later, that she searched for and found Stephanie in a local group home. She would secretly bring her new clothes and take her out to lunch on the weekends with my aunt.

Mom did the best she could. To survive her own pain, she became quite narcissistic. While she cooked wonderful meals and faithfully showed up to my swim meets, hockey tournaments, and choir concerts, she didn’t know how to truly nurture me or my brothers emotionally.

As you saw in my first blog, mom and I had our healing journey when she weakened towards the end of her life. This is when we both learned to love each other in a meaningful way. I look back at those visits in the nursing home, and taking her to her favorite place, the mall, with such deep gratitude. Every time I bought her new clothes, she would say, "Thank you doll."

Two weeks after mom passed away, my older brother called me and said, "I heard the song 'Dust in the Wind,' and thought of mom. Later that day, my twin called me and shared the same thing, and my brother's do not speak to one another.

It was a message from mom to me—In 2008, 'Dust in the Wind' was the first song I learned on the guitar. When I visited the nursing home, I would bring my guitar, and sing for her and the residents...

I knew she was okay. She was a wonderful teacher to me—I learned strength and resilience, and this has served me well in all the chapters of my life. I love you mom, and am forever grateful for our journey together.

Lisa Bromfield

Transformational Life Guide

Speaker

Author

Lisa's Blog #3

Lisa Bromfield

Transformational Guide

Speaker

Author

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January 29, 2026

My Dad

Dad and me. While the black and white one is scratched, I just love this picture!

My dad was a brilliant man, and coped with mental illness all of his life. He had two degrees from Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and was also an inventor. He was athletic and loved to ski, however, his true love lay on the water sailing.

He was a championship sailboat racer, and back in the day, Jews weren't allowed at the elite yacht clubs in Marblehead, MA. However, because of his status, the Corinthian Yacht Club allowed him to be the first Jewish member.

He was a published author, and passionate about our right to privacy. He established the American Privacy Foundation to expand his efforts.

He taught me how to play chess and cribbage, and we were both fiercely competitive. He was always by my side as a student, as he pushed me to be a better writer. A foreshadow, I suppose, of the things to come years later, as an author myself.

While he always favored my older brother, the picture of me in his lap reminds me that he loved me, and that he truly understood my brilliance —I was the high achiever and he could see my potential.

Dad showered one night, went to bed, and died in his sleep. I'm grateful that he passed in this way—one of ease and grace.

After he passed away, I read through many of his unpublished and published works, and to my surprise, his insights about bugging in the government were true. His passion about privacy wasn't as crazy as we all thought.

I have followed in my dad’s footsteps as an author—something I never imagined for myself. Yet with each stroke of the keyboard, I’m reminded of his passion for writing and his deep desire to make a meaningful impact on humanity.

My dad and I were more alike than I ever would have expected…

I love you dad, and I am proud to be your daughter following in your footsteps.

Lisa's Blog #2

Lisa Bromfield

Transformational Life Guide

Speaker

Author

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January 28, 2026

Theo the Wonder Cat

Theo loves being outdoors, in his camp chair or hammock. He even loves helping me write!

Our pets enter our lives quietly, but nothing about their presence is small.

They don’t just keep us company—they shift the energy of our homes. They ground us, soothe us, and meet us exactly where we are, without expectation or condition. They don’t need us to explain ourselves, perform, or be anything other than who we are in the moment.

Animals live in presence. Fully. Instinctively. They remind us—without words—how to slow down, how to listen, how to feel. Their nervous systems attune to ours. When we’re anxious, they settle beside us. When we’re sad, they stay close. When we’re calm, they soften even more.

There is a quiet magic in this exchange.

Our pets hold space in a way humans often forget how to do. They witness our lives from the inside—our routines, our rituals, our grief, our joy. And they offer something deeply healing: unconditional companionship that doesn’t ask us to be different.

For those of us who are sensitive, intuitive, or energetically aware, the bond can feel even deeper. We sense them working with us—sharing energy, absorbing stress, amplifying peace. They become anchors. Guardians. Teachers.

Which brings me to Theo.

Theo is my wonder cat.

Every morning, without fail, he meditates with me. He settles into the space as if it’s a sacred appointment—calm, present, aware. When I self-treat with Reiki, he is right there, by my side, energetically engaged. Not curious. Not distracting. Participating.

There is an intelligence to him that goes beyond behavior. He understands the work. He understands the stillness. He understands the energy.

Theo doesn’t just keep me company—he co-regulates the space. He holds it steady. He amplifies peace. He reminds me, every single day, what it means to live in alignment, presence, and trust.

He is magic—not because he does anything extraordinary, but because he embodies what so many of us are searching for: grounded presence, quiet knowing, and unconditional connection.

And in that way, he isn’t so different from all the animals who walk beside us.

They come into our lives not by accident—but by resonance. And if we let them, they bring us home.