The last day I saw my momma alive was also the first day I saw her deceased.
The memories from that day have never left my mind.
When I walked out of our cabin that morning, I remember my momma's big smile and how she blew me a kiss.
I remember the clothes blowing on the line as I ran through them.
It's a good memory, and absolutely nothing in that memory depicts someone about to take their own life.
My momma loved me, and I believe she loved life and God.
It saddens me to think that my family members agreed to and allowed her to be buried with this untruthful account of her death.