Her Last Days, Their Celebration.

I’m so angry and so sad I don’t know which is louder. It breaks me to think you were partying while she was dying doing cocaine, setting off fireworks, laughing and then acting like you’d taken care of her. That betrayal stings worse than anything. I did everything I could, and it still wasn’t enough; I didn’t even have hospice’s number until after she was gone. I keep seeing her face and replaying those last days, and it rips me open that she had to suffer while you treated it like a show. I want to cut you out of my life. I want to scream at you until you feel what I feel. But mostly I feel hollow and ashamed that my pain turns inward and I hurt myself with it. I miss her so much. I don’t know how to carry this without breaking