Glenda Lee Ackerman Shreve Fosgitt passed away six years ago today.  She died of liver cancer.  She was 56.  She was my mother.

To understand the magnitude of losing my Mom at the young age of 56, you have to understand something about the women on both sides of my family.  I have good genes.  The women in my family lived forever.  My paternal great grandmother lived to be 99.  I have maternal great aunts who are in their 90s.  My maternal grandmother is 98.  Given that record, I expected to have my Mom around for many more years.  Losing her at 56 was a shock.

There’s a tendency after someone dies to change them into some sort of saint.  Much as I’d like to do that with Mom, I can’t.  We had our share of conflicts over the years, and there was a lot we didn’t agree on.  There were times I felt that she wanted me to be anyone but who I was, and I’m sure there were times she felt the same thing about me in reverse.  Fortunately, we made our peace and got quite close before she died.  Somehow, even though it made losing that wonderful new relationship we had that much worse, it also made losing her a little easier.  When she died I knew she was proud of me and what I was becoming.  I’ll be grateful for that knowledge for the rest of my life.

Mom and I had completely different personalities and we wanted a lot of different things from life.  I can’t say I ever hoped to grow up to be just like her, but she did teach me several lessons that I value.  The biggest lesson she taught me was to value myself.  She also taught me to have compassion and to care for and about others.  Mom loved her family very much and when the chips were down I knew she would be there for me, even in the times when we didn’t like each other very much.

Today, on the sixth anniversary of her death, I think she would be proud of who and what I’ve become.  I still have a way to go before I become the person I aspire to be, but I think I’m closer now than I’ve ever been.  I wish she was here to see it, and to know that the screwed up young woman over whom she despaired has become a functioning, responsible adult.  She got to see the beginnings of that.  I wish she had gotten to see more.

Still, today, I choose to believe that she knows and is proud of me and happy for me.

I love you Mom, and I always will.