I had never heard of Joannie Rochette, until my heart broke for her.          By now, the story of the Canadian figure skater and the devastating loss of her mother just two days before the women’s short program has made many headlines and turned the 24-year-old into a skating, sequined symbol of the resilience of the human heart and strength of willpower.

But, as the Olympic-enthused world learned that Therese Rochette died of a heart attack near Vancouver’s Pacific Stadium Sunday, there was much we didn’t know about the family that hoped for a place on their sport’s podium and won a world’s wonder.

Their dream began years ago, when Normand Rochette, himself a hockey coach, put his small daughter on skates and taught her how to traverse the ice. As she learned, Normand soon began working two and three jobs to finance Joannie’s growing passion to become an Olympic champion. Meanwhile, it was Therese and Joannie who drove from tournament to tournament, stitching costumes in their car along the journeys.

Joannie was an only child, and Therese was her constant fan, while Normand supported them behind the scenes.

Therese’s death was sudden. She died of an apparent heart attack Sunday, shortly after arriving in Vancouver. Normand found her unresponsive in her hotel room and later made the solitary, silent trip to tell his only daughter that her mother was gone.

In an act of supreme courage, commitment and honor, Joannie opted to stay in the Olympic competition, dedicating her performance to the mother who was also her best friend.

The Olympic arena usually divides fans sharply along cultural and geographical borders, but it seemed everyone rooted for Joannie Tuesday. She had lost her mother, but thousands of mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters she’ll never know adopted her for a while in their hearts. At home, I held my breath each time she took off and let out a sigh with each jump landed. And, I cried along with her (and Scott Hamilton, I believe), as she finally gave her emotions free rein at end of the skate.

Those of us who haven’t glided in her boots can only imagine the determination and dedication it took for Joannie to take the ice Tuesday, let alone show the world all the skill and grace that propelled her to the Olympics in the first place; but, we can all admire her performance, because we can imagine ourselves in her situation.

Most of us know the heart-shattering reality of losing someone who has shaped our realities and carved their own niche in our souls. And, we know the super-human determination that healing requires, whether it takes place under the worldwide Olympic spotlight or the glare of small-town gossip.

We’ve watched in awe as our neighbors, friends and families have been forced to say goodbye to pieces of themselves far too soon, only to turn their tragedies into a form of triumph and recognition.

Whether these awe-inspiring people with spirits of steel built a performing arts center, worked to make life better for families fighting cancer, squared off against Crohn’s disease, opened a safe haven for women and children or simply extended a helping hand during the hardest times of their lives, they all withstood crushing losses that life dealt them, weathered the numbness of grief and emerged from each personal storm vowing to make the world a better place because of everything they survived.

Their actions were worthy of the standing ovation and every bit of marvel that Joannie Rochette earned Tuesday, because they, too, kept their hopes, dreams and gifts alive through challenges that could have killed them. They are who they are because of where they’ve been.

They are the living examples of a comment attributed to both Henry David Thoreau and James Anthony Froude: You cannot dream yourself into a character; you must hammer and forge yourself one.

Life and its myriad obstacles mould each and every one of us into the people we are meant to be. The hammering and forging hurt, but humans are made to withstand them.

Behind the breakable bones and fragile egos, we’re built to survive the pains that we fear we can’t and face down the contests we think we won’t win.

Unlike Joannie Rochette, we may not ever go for the gold in an Olympic competition. But, just like her, we can all conquer our own mountains with a commitment more precious and persistent than any metal.

Tammie Toler is Princeton Times editor. Contact her at ttoler@ptonline.net.