Amongst the pain I have felt in the world, the one greatest of them all would have to be guilt. I am a guilty person. Every day, I go throughout my life hoping that I will not have a flashback to the most horrific time I have ever experienced. But, I am writing this at two in the morning. My roommate is asleep; everyone is asleep, but, here I am writing my thoughts so they won’t consume me. I am having one of those flashbacks, and I cannot sleep.

My guilt stems from my failed attempt to save my mom as she died. A senior in high school, awoken by shrieking, I did not know I could even do what I did. I pulled my own mom off her bed to perform CPR. I stayed on the phone with the operator as I locked my fingers with each other and began to press all my might into the center of my mom’s chest. I thought it would work. I knew it had to work.

It wasn’t until I was pulled off my mom by the paramedics did I know that she was not coming back. That moment, I knew I had failed. The paramedic attempted to reassure me by saying she’s been gone for a while. This attempt at reassurance meant nothing to me. The fact to me was that I tried, and I failed.

In every moment of my life, all the times my mom has counted on me, that was the day I failed her. I let the paramedics take her. I let them stop me from giving compressions.

I am not crazy. Do I really think that my compressions could have saved her at the time I had found her? Probably not. But, if I was given the chance, I would have never stopped compressions. Now, a year later, I would still be giving her compressions. Even though she possibly would never wake, I can be reassured that I was still trying to save her.

My guilt stems from the fact that I could not save my own mom.

I wish I could have saved her. I wish I could have made one of those mystical promises to the gods to switch my mom’s fate to that of my own. I go about life now knowing that the pleasures I have are those that my mom can no longer enjoy. If I could have been the one getting compressions that day, I would. And, I would do so gladly.

My guilt is that of a survivor. Yes, I am the guilty daughter who could not save the closest person to her, but there is more. I am also the person who did not join my mom on the other side. I stayed on earth as my mom perished. My world is so empty, and yet I am still here.

No matter how many people tell me that I could not have saved her, I will never believe them. Only I can forgive the unspeakable. I am constantly depressed from the loss of my best friend. But, I am even madder at the person who could not save her, no matter how hard she tried. I cannot ever forgive myself.