Twenty two days ago, I got the phone call that I had been fearing for years. Your addiction finally beat you. You died in a beat up trailer, all alone, the victim of Fentanyl. Your best friend called me screaming, screaming that you were dead and I yelled back at her that she was wrong, because my baby couldn't be dead. But it was true. Your dad, your brothers and I, we drove out to that old trailer that I begged you not to move into, and the medical examiner was already there. The cops met us as soon as we got out of the car, and walked immediately over to me; likely because we look so much alike that it was easy to identify that I was your mother.
"I regret to inform you that the person identified as Madeline Lee XXXXX has been found deceased." He was so formal, but he was kind, as I'm sure he's done this so many times. Your dad sobbed. Your brother's eyes turned red and he paced the yard of your rental, vaping furiously and refusing to talk to anyone. Your youngest brother stayed close to his dad, these emotions too much to bear but not sure what to say. I stood by Tony. Tony, the man I know you loved but you rejected because he was too wise to your ways. I held hands with the man who I wanted you to marry. You two would have been good together. I cried. He held me.
Finally, the medical examiner allowed us to see you. The four of us (God it kills me to say the four of us, because it's always been the five of us!) held hands and walked into this dirty old trailer. You were in a body bag, zipped up to your neck. Your gorgeous hair was smoothed back, and you were so beautiful in death. Your dad started gasping for air. He couldn't bear to see his only baby girl laying in a body bag. His knees buckled and he choked out sobs. Your brothers held his hands. Only I walked over to you. After all, I was the first person to ever hold you, and I was the first person to ever kiss you as you left my body. I cradled your head. I played with your hair, you were so vain about it but honestly you had the most gorgeous head of hair. It was thick, wavy, brunette with a few premature gray strands. Even in my despair, I kind of laughed when I realized that of course, your brows were done. Of course they were. There was blood coming from one of your nostrils, I'm guessing from where you snorted the drug. I kissed your forehead and said to the medical examiner, "Isn't she beautiful? This is my daughter." I touched your face, willing myself to remember the curves of your face, even though it's so much like my own. I didn't open your eyes. They were thankfully closed, and you truly looked like a beautiful sleeping beauty. I kissed your forehead for a second time, whispered to you how much I loved you, and let the medical examiner take you.
It's been twenty two days. Twenty two days since I've gotten a message from you on Facebook, telling me about your crazy day at Burger King. Or asking me for Uber money, or to come home for a day or two. My phone feels mysteriously silent. I talked to you every day, my sweet girl, and I miss you so much already.
Your friend Heather had a baby today. You were there when her first two babies were born but you missed this handsome guy. He looks just like his brothers. I grieve the fact that you will never have babies. I wanted so much to share that with you, watching your joy in becoming a mama but drugs stole that from both of us. It stole everything you should have been. I'm angry. I'm angry at you for continuing to do drugs, but at the same time I'm so relieved that your awful struggle is over.
I'm going to try to write to you on a regular basis. It's ok for you to visit me in my dreams. Please go visit your dad in his soon, as his grief is huge. He would love to see you in a dream and let him know how Paradise is.
I love you, Madeline Lee. Death may have separated us for now but my love for you is eternal.
