My 93-Year-Old Great Aunt’s Words Helped Me Embrace Life Without Kids

In September 2024, I ended my lease in Washington, D.C., and left for six weeks of working remotely while exploring the Mediterranean coast of Spain. It turned into a nine-month journey: Southern Spain, England, Montenegro, and back to Spain.

On paper, it looked like a dream: beaches, new cities, new experiences. But in reality, it included long stretches of loneliness and the ache of watching my peers reach traditional milestones I hadn’t.

Along the way, I chased meaning. I questioned my choices during a cold December in London, where the sun set daily at 3 p.m., and when I faced a national blackout alone in Spain, locked out of my apartment in April.

It wasn’t until I chatted with my 92-year-old great aunt Beverley that she helped me put my life into perspective — and give me the key to happiness.

A quest for belonging

I wanted to live in Spain long-term. While abroad, I began the process of applying for EU citizenship by descent, reviewing old documents of my grandparents and great-grandparents who were born in Poland.

As I researched, I worried I was reducing my ancestors to data points. I tried imagining them as real people. They had fled Europe to escape persecution as Jews, and I was trying to return. For what?

During some of my most challenging moments, I confided in my mom. She said, “I talk to Aunt Beverly, and she always says to tell you she’s so proud of you. I am too.”

My paternal grandmother, Florence, and her parents, Rose and David, were all born in Łódź, Poland. They came to the US when Florence was 13 years old. Later, her sister Beverly was born in Brooklyn.

I’d always adored my Great Aunt Beverly. She’s bubbly, funny, and speaks her mind. But after spending months researching her older sister and parents, Beverly began to feel like a celebrity to me — a living link to the family I’d been studying.

My aunt told me, ‘Do whatever you want’

I asked my mom, “Why is she proud of me? Does she even know what I’m doing?”

I couldn’t imagine a woman of her age approving of someone like me, 37, who has no partner, kids, traditional career path, or stable home.

“She thinks people should do whatever they want,” my mom said.

In July 2025, we visited Beverly at her home in Las Vegas. I asked her more about our family history. She told me her sister and mother had been quiet and reserved; they never spoke about Poland, only that they’d “never get on a boat again.”

Beverly, by contrast, radiates warmth and joy, just like she preaches.

“I am so proud of you,” she said. “Keep doing exactly what you want, as long as you’re happy doing it.”

I’m following my unconventional path with her blessing

This summer, I considered renting an apartment, adopting a dog, and settling down in the US. But something inside me wasn’t done exploring.

So, I returned to Spain, this time to the north. I’m editing my memoir and starting my first novel.

This choice may not get me closer to the traditional life path I want. I still struggle with loneliness, the desire for stability, and the question of whether my actions are meaningful.

I told Aunt Beverly, who predicted I’d keep traveling. She still approved and added, “You have to stay positive, even at my age. I always wake up with a smile on my face. Even if I’m achy, I think, ‘Oh well! That’s one of the perks of growing up!'”

I am not always happy, even when I’m doing what I want. But Beverly reminds me that while my ancestors fled with trauma, my inheritance from her is also joy.

She ended our call with one more Beverly-ism: “Stay happy, stay healthy, and keep smiling.”

At 93, she still wakes up smiling — and reminds me to try.