On May 12th, 2020, I found my mother on the floor of her bedroom. It wasn’t unusual for me to find her on the floor, her kidneys often made her disillusioned. But it was different today. Today, she wasn’t breathing. I screamed, ‘she’s not breathing!’, as I was on the phone with my dad. 911 called me seconds later, even though it felt like hours. I was tasked with checking for a pulse. Her body felt like ice. But her neck was warm. There must have been hope, if a small part of her is warm! It was then that paramedics came through the door and moved me away from her. I was taken to the living room and sat on the couch while they worked. I explained to someone, I honestly can’t remember who, that she had just gotten out of the hospital 24 hours prior. Her kidneys were damaged and she had had dialysis, but the nurse assured me that she’d be fine that day! I’m still not sure at what point someone picked up my kids, or when my fiancé showed up at home. But my mind still can’t handle the words ‘she’s gone’ that came from the police woman’s mouth. I remember being hugged by someone. I remember grabbing my phone and calling my dad. He was already downstairs waiting for me. I think he knew before the paramedics even arrived. I recall having to answer immediate questions. ‘Which funeral home do you want her brought to?’ is the clearest memory I have of the questions. They told me I was in shock before bringing me downstairs to be with my dad. I remember being in my dads car. I don’t recall who brought me a jacket, or who I called at what time. I’m not sure which part of the aftermath of the shock was worse, the devastation of calling my sister, or watching my grandmother pull up to the house, or being forced to ‘say goodbye’ to a body bag. Yes, I say forced, because despite how much I fought, everyone still felt like I ‘needed’ to say goodbye. That body bag was not my mother. I did not say goodbye to my mother. My mother was a person, damnit, not just another body bag. And none of them had to find her cold, and blue with her face in a pillow! They couldn’t possibly understand. Could I have saved my mother if I had found her sooner? Could I have given her a final chance if I had just heard her fall? I was supposed to take care of her, and I had failed her. It took months to discover the cause of my mother’s death. The initial report cited ‘pending investigation’. Asphyxiation was what I was first told, because technically she did. But it’s not like she just suffocated on her own. No, her heart finally took her life. She had a heart attack and couldn’t get up. It’s been months, and no amount of medication, or therapy is helping how I feel. The nightmares are terrible. My fiancé tells me that I struggle to breathe at night. I see her face constantly, but not as the beautiful, smiling woman I should see her as, but as she was that terrible morning.