My biggest regret in life is the night I walked past her.
Story by: Dakota Robertson
The warm summer breeze brushed against my skin as my friends and I walked the downtown sidewalk, the sound of music from the festival fading into the background. I could smell the vodka on my breath as my 19-year-old self revelled in the moment.
Our quest for late-night greasy pizza led us down Leon Avenue, infamous for its homeless and drug-addicted inhabitants. Trash, tarp tents, and shopping carts littered the sidewalks, and as we approached a woman, I slowed my pace and fell back from the group.
The woman had long, frail brown hair and was dressed in raggedy clothes, her small stature almost unnoticeable. As I took a closer look, I felt a punch in my stomach as I realized it was my mother, the woman who had raised me and instilled my values, lost to addiction.
Her face was vacant, and I could tell she was strung out, completely unaware of her surroundings, including her own son. The past three years had led up to this moment, with late-night calls and missed visits with my little sisters as my mother burned through $150,000+ to feed her addiction, eventually becoming homeless and unrecognizable.
As I walked past her, I felt helpless, like a kid again, not knowing what to say or do. I had tried for so long to get through to her, but nothing had worked, and she was too far gone to see me two feet away. I kept it a secret from my friends that night, not wanting attention, but it soon came back to haunt me.
A week later, I received a call from my grandpa, choking up and asking me to come home, telling me it had to do with my mom. The drive home was excruciating, and when I arrived, I found a police officer with my brother and grandparents. I knew what had happened without being told — my mother had died from a fentanyl-laced crack overdose.
The reality collided with my fear, and I broke down in tears, never being hugged so tightly by my brother. There were no goodbyes or happy endings, just a dead body left to rot for three days before being found. Any thought I had of a potential God died that day, leaving me numb and filled with rage for years after.
Looking back, I still don’t know what I would say or do differently, but I wish I had hugged her. Life can be unfair, tearing you down in ways you never expected, but it can also be beautiful. It’s important to live life to the fullest, pursue your goals, and have tough conversations instead of waiting for permission. Don’t put off the trip or miss out on unforgettable memories with loved ones and friends.
