unknown.

"You're gonna miss me when I'm gone."

Every time you said that, I kinda rolled my eyes. I don't know if it's because of how strained our relationship was before you passed, or if it's because I thought I had more time with you before you passed.

Thankfully, things were a little better between us at the end. However, I still wasn't prepared for that 3 AM phone call. I mean, can you ever really be prepared for something like that? Just remembering getting that call makes me feel like I'm living it again. You should still be here. You were so young and you had so much of your life ahead of you.

I don't know what to do, Mom. Sometimes I think about calling you and then remember that I can't because you're gone. It's not fair. There are so many horrible people in this world that it could've happened to, but it happened to you.

Your 45th birthday was never meant to be your death date. Looking at pictures from when you were a kid sort of made it worse, because your life was never supposed to be the way it was. And it certainly was never supposed to end the way it did.

I get it, you wanted to have fun on your birthday, so you called someone you knew would have something. I wish, with everything in me, you had called someone –ANYONE– else. But, you didn't. And now we're left to try to figure out how to deal with all of this.

There's so many things you are missing and are going to miss out on. Your granddaughter's first birthday, her first steps. Both of your grandchildren graduating high school.

I regret not spending more time with you the last time I saw you, or at least seeing you after that. Obviously, if I had known it would be the last time I'd see you, I would've stayed and let someone else handle the situation. But, I had no way of knowing.

I think you would've loved your funeral, as much as you can love such a sad thing. We didn't play your typical funeral music, and we didn't put you in some fancy dress with a ton of makeup. I did your makeup myself, because I wanted you to look like you. And you did. We put you in a pale yellow dress with red roses on it, because they were your favorite. Your casket was crimson red and you would've loved it. I straightened your hair and we painted your nails red with red glitter. We put pictures in there with you, and both your son and daughter were pallbearers. We all wore Alabama shirts, just for you. Frog even found an Alabama sticker that he put on the lid of your casket. And, of course, we played "Home Sweet Home" by Mötley Crüe at your funeral, because it only made sense. I still have your funeral playlist on Spotify, and I honestly doubt I'll ever delete it.

We did it all in a way we thought you'd like, to the best of our ability. We even stopped by one day after and poured out a couple shots of Red Stag for you. We meant to put one in with you, but we figured pouring them out would be okay.

I miss you, Mom. I'm so sorry for the way things were between us and for not just letting it go. There's so many things I wish I could say now, but it's too late. It was never that we didn't love you, we just wanted you to work on yourself and see how different things could be.

We loved you, and we still do.