I took my mother for granted. I thought she would always be here. Her mother lived to be 97, so why wouldn’t her mother’s daughter? My mother lived 25 years less than my grandmother and her death hit me hard. It hit us all hard. Fifteen years ago tomorrow, Mother’s Day. I lived in a grievous fog and thought depression and sadness were my new normal. Until they weren’t. Two years later I realized the veil had slowly lifted, although I didn’t recognize when. It finally felt good to remember happy times and her ridiculous “Rubyisms” without that gut-wrenching longing for her. This Mother’s Day, I am grateful for a…