"More than a stunning debut. It is the announcement of a bold new literary voice"
—Stephen Chbosky, author of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I thought about writing a letter to someone famous who is now dead. But them I realized I don`t really have anything to say to any of them, and I have plenty to say to you. But now that I`m here, it`s hard to put my thought and emotion on the paper. Basically: I miss you and you shouldn`t have left me.
I remember my last words to you. You were on the hospital bed, confusing the words and the letters but you were still you, and you said ‘I love you’ just as I was going out of the door. I should`ve gone back in and hugged you and forgotten about my teenage hormones and the embarrassment of having feelings, but instead I answered, from the doorway ‘You too.’ as in ‘I love you too.’. What and stupid last thing to say. I should`ve said ‘I love you too.’, because I did and I still do.
When I heard that you were dead, I was already in another country, never in the world imagining that you were gone, that it was possible to. But I cried, because that`s what you do, because I do have feelings and I am not embarrassed to have them. But honestly, I never truly believed you were gone. How could I? The last time I’d seen you was on a hospital bed but you had been there many times over the years and I just expected you to be back home, sitting on your couch and watching the news when I returned home.
You weren`t.
It`s weird to say it but I think you were the person who loved me most in my life. And you`re gone and sometimes I don`t know how to deal with it because I feel like there is no one who will love me like you did, which means I lost that love forever.
It wasn`t your time to leave just yet. I know it`s not my place to say that, because if God decided it was the best thing for you that I should just accept it, but I can`t because I miss you and I`m still mourning your loss.
You never got to see me turn fifteen. Grandma gave me some money to buy something like it was from you. I bought a silver heart necklace, which I like, so thank you, but I`m not sure it was what you would`ve picked.
You need to know that when you left, you weren`t the only one. You took my grandma with you.
She`s not the same. She used to be alive and good and funny and my friend. Now she just walks around complaining about life and her rheumatism and wishing she was dead. I can`t take it.
The farm is destroyed. I`m not sure I should tell you because it will make you sad, but it made me sad and someone needs to know how much it hurts. There`s nothing good left of it. It`s just a bunch of dead trees and dirty houses. So it adds to the list. When you died, you took yourself, my grandma, and my childhood with you.
I`m not blaming you, of course. I can only imagine how much it hurt. I`m sorry. I`m sorry that I didn`t tell you I loved you and I`m so so sorry I wasn`t there to see you go, and I`m sorry I didn`t…
I`m so sorry for so many things. And at the same time that I love you, I hate you. I hate you. Why aren`t you here? Why aren`t you with my grandma, living in the farm so I can go visit you on the weekends and holidays and have the best days of my entire life?
You`re missing so much. You missed my sixteenth birthday. You missed my graduation. You missed my heartbreak. And you don`t even know you have a new grandson. It hurts so much to know he`ll never know you, or have memories with you and that he`ll nave to get to know the farm animals on a zoo or a school trip. I`m embarrassed and sad for him.
I can`t believe you won`t be at my wedding. I can`t believe you won`t see my dream (hopefully) come true. You`re missing a lot. You should be here. We all miss you.