There is a silence in my home now that feels alive. It presses in on me. It’s the silence of the laugh I’ll never hear again… the footsteps that will never come down my hallway… the “I love you, Mom” that will never be spoken.

My daughter, Megan Gabrielle Miller, was only 26 years old. She was light in human form — 4’10”, tiny but fierce, a mother who loved her child more than anything on this earth. She had plans, hope, and a fire to start fresh.

But on March 24, 2024, someone she trusted put poison in her hands and told her it was help. She believed him. She swallowed it. And just like that — my baby’s future was stolen.

There was no race to save her. No frantic 911 call. Only a cold delay, while precious minutes slipped away and her chance to survive faded into nothing.

I live every day with the image of her alone, needing help that never came. And I promise you this — I will not let her name fade.

If you’re reading this, I’m asking — no, begging — you:

Share her story until it cannot be ignored

Every click, every follow, every share makes Megan’s voice louder and pushes us closer to the justice she deserves.

Say her name with me: Megan Gabrielle Miller.

She mattered. She still matters. And I will fight until my last breath for her.