Franklin woke me up early that Saturday morning, barking like the annoying little Jack Russell he is. I heard sirens outside on the street which I’m sure woke him up. Thinking nothing of it, I picked him up out of the bed and threw him out of the room. It was Saturday morning and I was taking advantage of my sleep. I couldn’t go back to sleep. His barking got violent, and the sirens got closer. I said a quick prayer for whichever of my neighbors was having medical issues and shoved a pillow over my head. I began to drift back off. A few minutes, maybe a few seconds, later my dad came into my room, in which I immediately screamed, “Get out, I’m not wearing pants!” Often on Saturday mornings, he could come into my room long before I was ready to wake up and beg me to go to Waffle House with him. That was NOT happening this morning. Franklin had already barked me awake and I was not going to let dad do the same. He ignored my comment and came over to my bed. In the most chilling voice I’ve ever heard, he said, “Mommy won’t wake up.”

Then the chaos began. And with those four words, my life would never be the same.

I threw myself out of the bed (still in no pants), grabbed my dad’s arm and screamed at him to “STOP LYING.” I gripped his wrist, and continued to scream, "Stop lying! Where's Mommy?” All he could say was “I’ll take care of you,” and he walked back downstairs.

I was left alone, in the middle of my bedroom floor, gripping the carpet between my fingers. I had to do something to wake up myself from this nightmare, so I began banging my head against the wall to wake myself up from this moment, which obviously was just a dream. I never woke up. And then I heard it. The beeping of walkie talkie downstairs, the fast paced footsteps, the engine of an ambulance sitting in my front yard, and Franklin still, no longer just barking, but frantically barking from his crate, which was right next to where my mom laid lifeless in her bed.

I was stuck in the middle of my bedroom floor. Fingers still gripped to the carpet, still trying to wake up, and yes, still pantless. I grabbed my phone and texted my best friend, Brandi, and sent her a series of messages. It was like my brain wasn’t connected to my fingers, so it turned out like this

“My mom died call me me call me my”

“Brandi she’s dead”

“Brandi”

“Long”

“My mom died”

“Brandi call me”

“Please”

“Pleas come Now”

Still sitting on the bedroom floor and pantless, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. My world was spinning. I felt everything, but at the same time, nothing. I wanted to scream, but it was if my body was drained of every ounce of energy and motion. I wanted to cry, but it’s as if my eyes were not capable of making any sort of movement. So there I sat, eyes fixed on the bedroom wall. Staring. Just staring. The footsteps made it into my room. It was a police officer, and trust me, he fit the stereotypical description of a police officer. Thick pornstache and aviator sunglasses. He joined me on the floor. (Poor guy, I was still wearing no pants.) “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating. I could barely get words out of my mouth. I finally managed to form a sentence. “Can they save her?" I asked. The lack of response was all the response I needed.

My phone rang. It was Brandi. The poor cop… I just threw the phone at him. All I could hear was her screams on the other end. They exchanged a few words and he hung up and gave the phone back to me. My best friend, bless her, was on the way at now 7:18 a.m. on a Saturday morning. The police officer silently exited my room, leaving me with no words, no plan… I had nothing. Nothing to say, nothing to feel, nothing to yell… the best word to describe what I felt in that moment was nothing.

I had to get out of the house. I could not be under that roof. I finally did it… I put pants on. I pulled myself off the floor and started walking. Now at this point, I had no shoes on. But I continued walking. I walked out of my room, down the stairs, out the front door, and kept walking down to the end of my street, in almost a zombie-like state. No one was going to make me stay anywhere near that house. And I walked, and I kept walking, until the rocks under my feet were starting to cut my toes. The birds were starting to chirp, but all I could focus on was the sound of the ambulance engine back up with road. I couldn’t walk anymore, I was going to get lost and my feet were throbbing. So I sat. I sat in the middle of the road. I stared at the cuts on my feet, I stared at the world in front of me, and still felt nothing but a cold empty chill over my body. I looked up and silently asked God why he had done this to me. And in the moment, I became who I am now. A motherless daughter.