She was 58, lived a rough life brought on by her own bad choices (including copious amounts of drugs, alcohol, and men), and she died in bizarre circumstances (as her favorite role, the victim), as the news article below details.
Despite her only being an influence in my life maybe a 1/3 of my 30 years, I am grateful for her giving me life, coloring with me as a child, reading to me, and, most of all, teaching me to crochet. These are the only good memories in the sea of bad ones I have of her; I will cling to those.
I pray God worked a miracle and saved her before she died, as I did share the Gospel with her before I had to ask her to stop writing me a few months ago. I am both sad and relieved; I don't have to worry about her anymore, wondering if she's safe or cared for, but I wish things had been different. Because, after all, she was my mother and I will always love her.
