My mother did not pass as peaceful as possible like I told everyone.

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It was a horrible, traumatic ending to her life and I cannot sleep at night because all I do is relive the last three hours of her life. She fought so damn hard for every last breath, literally sitting upright in her bed, gasping and gasping even though oxygen was being pushed into her lung. (She only had one lung, and the pneumonia had taken over. They did a chest x-ray and said the entire lung was white.)

She suffocated to death in my arms. Her eyes were wide open. That image also haunts me.

She was in and out of consciousness which was the toughest part. If she had been "out of it" I could've handled it better, but she knew what was happening. I felt so HELPLESS. I couldn't help her breathe.

I couldn't save her.

I couldn't save my father or my brothers either. They all died and I couldn't do anything to save them. Survivor's guilt maybe?

Suffocation is a big trigger for me. After witnessing my loved ones overdosing on heroin as a young kid, I am very hypervigilant about people breathing. Sometimes I lie awake at night listening to make sure my husband is breathing. If I don't hear him, I give him a push.

There is a certain sound that people make when they overdose. It's not the same sound my mother was making, but it was close. When you wake up in the middle of the night and hear it coming from your teenage brother(s)blue lips and watch his (their) chests HEAVING as their body fights to get air, it kinda sticks with you. If I had been an adult I might've handled it better?

I'm sorry. I think part of why I didn't share the truth was because I wanted to give my mother some dignity in her last hours. But it wasn't pretty and I can't shake it. After everything my mother went through in her life with her husband dying and my two brothers, battling breast and lung cancer, it just didn't seem fair that she couldn't die peacefully.

If you read this, please don't feel obligated to answer it. I just needed to let someone know the truth.