That one last high….
That one last high destroyed everything good.
That one last high sounded like a good idea at the time…
That one last time turned into forever.
That one last high lead to two detectives ringing my doorbell at 2:37am. Telling me my baby girl is no longer with us. My precious little girl, my first true love.
That one last high forced me to explain to her baby boy, just 2 years old, that Mommy will never be coming home.
I was forced to tell her brother, her dad, and her grandma that they will never be able to hug her again.
Never able to rock her baby to sleep.
Never able to laugh with her.
Never able to watch her get married.
That one last high led me to a funeral home only 16 hours after being told the life altering news. Staring at my sweet girl’s face, her body half covered by a sheet, hospital gown draped over her to hide the autopsy incisions.
That one last high led me to holding her face, draping myself over her cold, lifeless body, and crying out uncontrollably for hours.
Cursing out God for taking my baby.
That one last high led me to a room, brain in a fog, staring at caskets trying to decide which one my little girl should be buried in.
That one last high led to planning a funeral and writing an obituary that will never be perfect enough for my little girl.
That one last high left me going through her closet. Picking out a dress for her to be buried in. Then laying in her bed, hugging her pillow, hoping her scent never leaves.
That one last high led me to going through countless photos from her first breath til’ her last. Making memory boards and slideshows… trying to fit 20 sweet years into 10 minutes.
That one last high dropped me to my knees in front of her casket as we said our last goodbyes. Pleading with God to take me instead. Demanding him to rewind time. Yelling if he is so almighty why can’t he take it back.
That one last high led us to the cemetery where I held her 2-year-old son as he said goodbye to his mommy for the very last time.
That one last high left me staring at her casket for an hour after everyone had left the burial. Scared to leave my baby girl alone.
That one last high resulted in months of laying on the floor crying, clinging on to anything that reminded me of her. Regretting not wrapping her in a blanket because I know she hates the cold.
That one last high has left empty days and dreaded nights. Mornings that turn into evenings with no memory of the day.
That one last high left me with an empty soul.
I am a broken mother because of one last high.
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