Soon after my mom was diagnosed with epilepsy at age 12, people started telling her what she shouldn't or wouldn't do. She shouldn't exercise, they said, and she would never graduate from college or be able to hold down a steady job or have a family. She made it her mission to dash expectations at every opportunity.

Told she shouldn't swim, she learned to surf. Cautioned against traveling, she hiked in the jungles of south Asia. Pitied that she'd never marry or have children, she met my father and had four kids. One of my first memories as a child was watching my mom stand on a tall ladder to place a sign on the wall of our church and seeing three men rush to her, shouting, "Mary, no!" and making her get down. Upset and annoyed that they didn't believe she could do it, she was even more determined to prove them wrong.

When my father was diagnosed with cancer and died after a short but traumatic battle, my mother's friends and family thought this loss would surely swamp her. My father had been her provider, her strength. He caught her when she fell, held her when she recovered, believed in her when others would not.

Even I was worried about her, especially after she sank into a depression when we moved from Maui—where she and my dad had built a lifetime of memories—to Arizona. Against expectations, she sought help for her depression and rallied in time for my sister's wedding. Attending the wedding was a milestone that reignited her desire to show people she could survive and thrive on her own.

And then the accident happened. My mother had a massive seizure, hit her head, and sustained a subdural hematoma. When I got the call from the hospital saying she was undergoing emergency brain surgery, I was told to prepare for the worst. My siblings and I feared she wouldn't survive, but as soon as she awoke from surgery, I recognized that familiar steely determination.

Her life has certainly changed since the accident—she's far more forgetful and a lot less active—but every time I see her, she is sure to tell me how she's getting better and moving forward.

Her resolve inspires me. I recall a moment in graduate school when I was feeling particularly overwhelmed trying to find a place to live, keep up with the workload, and hold down a job. I questioned whether I was on the right path. Then I thought of all that my mom had endured and how she always pushed ahead. Even if she didn't achieve all her dreams, she basked in the trying. That was enough to keep me going. That and remembering I was voted "Most Determined" in fifth grade.

I certainly had the best role model.

Christina McKelvy lives in Phoenix with her husband and cat. She enjoys writing, photography, and exploring the world around her.