"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

You died soon after I was born, so I never really knew you. However, I know you from Mom’s memory. I know that Mom loves you because I can feel her love for you whenever she talks about you. It makes me love you too. I love that you made Mom happy in your short life. I love that you loved your children when their dad wouldn’t. I love that you made Mom into such a good mom. I wish that cancer never took you away. I wish that Mom never had to experience your death. I wish I got to meet you. I wish I had the opportunity to actually love you instead of loving the memory of you. I wish I had more time as your granddaughter.
The burden of loving somebody is the despair you feel when they pass away, and that’s a despair that Mom has never fully recovered from. I know she tries not to let your death hold her back, and I know she tries to let your memory push her forward, but I also know that she wants more than just your memory, she wants you here, and that has caused to her never finish mourning. She never stopped loving you, but she loves you too much. I don’t want Mom to mourn for the rest of her life, and I know you don’t want her to either, so I think I can speak for the whole family when I say we wish you were still here.