What’s Your Pearl Necklace?
I was thinking about my friend Cynthia today.
She’s in her early 80s and lived an active, working life for nearly all of it. She worked full time until just a couple of years ago. Along the way, she faced heart disease, cancer… the kinds of challenges that quietly reshape a life.
And yet, for most of the years I’ve known her, you would never have guessed any of that.
Even now, as her health has begun to decline more noticeably, she still lights up when I see her. She’s ready to go—to be picked up, to head out, to visit her favorite boutiques or sit down at a familiar restaurant. She talks about the people she knows, the places she loves, the rhythm of a life she built over decades.
I could choose to feel sad when I see her now.
But that’s not what stays with me.
What stays with me is how she lived.
I remember going out with her and needing an extra ten minutes just to get to the table because she had to stop and speak to everyone along the way. Not out of obligation—but because she genuinely knew them. And they knew her.
She built a life of presence.
And she carried it with her.
One of my favorite stories about Cynthia involves a pearl necklace.
Her granddaughters used to say that when “GaGa” showed up to pick them up from school, if she was wearing the pearl necklace… you knew she meant business.
I’ve seen it myself.
There was something about that necklace. When it came out, it wasn’t just an accessory. It was a signal.
Confidence. Authority. Presence.
But more than that, I believe it was a reminder—to herself.
Of who she was.
Of everything she had lived through.
Of the wisdom she had earned along the way.
Despite age. Despite health. Despite the natural slowing that comes for all of us… she was still fully herself.
Still a force.
Still someone who mattered.
Even if, in that moment, it was only to two little girls who adored their grandmother.
That was enough.
Aging changes things. There’s no way around that.
But there’s a difference between change… and disappearance.
Cynthia never allowed herself to disappear.
She held onto something—something symbolic, something simple—that anchored her identity as everything else evolved.
Not in a loud or performative way.
Just quietly.
Consistently.
I’ve noticed something similar in my own life.
What success looks like now is very different than it once did. There are fewer big milestones. Less need for recognition. Less interest in proving anything to anyone.
But the need to remain engaged—to keep moving forward in some way—hasn’t gone away.
It’s just changed form.
Now it might look like:
- taking a walk and thinking more deeply about life
- writing something that might help someone else
- making a small decision that supports a better future
Nothing dramatic.
But not nothing either.
Which brings up a simple question.
What’s your pearl necklace?
What is the thing—symbolic or real—that represents who you are… and who you intend to remain… as life changes around you?
Not who you used to be.
Not who the world expects you to be.
But something you carry forward.
Something that says:
I’m still here.
I still matter.
I’m not done yet.
At Freedom to Thrive, we talk a lot about staying able, staying clear, and staying in control.
But underneath all of that… there has to be a reason.
A reason to take care of your body.
A reason to stay mentally engaged.
A reason to keep showing up in your own life.
Sometimes that reason isn’t complicated.
Sometimes… it’s as simple as a pearl necklace.
— Jamie Harrington
Freedom to Thrive
Curious explorer of living well in the second half of life.
Additional Reading:
Longevity Needs a Reason
Why Strength Becomes the Deciding Factor of Aging
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