I wasn’t sure I would ever be ready to tell my story. It was even hard for me to believe it was my story.
It’s something you rip from a headline — it actually did become a headline, sort of. An overlooked headline in a deluge of similar tragedies strewn throughout the news. Anyone who has asked me how it happened could find out in five seconds, just with my mother’s name and a quick Google search.
Nobody ever did, or at least they never told me about it. How do you tell an acquaintance, or coworker, or even someone you consider a friend, that your 58-year-old mother dropped dead after doing a line of coke with her husband, which turned out to be 100% fentanyl, given to her by one of her best friends who is now being charged with second-degree murder?