"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 miss you a lot. I think about you often. You’ve been gone for about six years now, and while it’s certainly easier to deal with the grief of losing you now than when you died, I get struck by these waves of missing you. I think about you sometimes when I fix my hair, and how you would hate that I cut it short because you always liked braiding it. I remember when you were going through chemo and you started crying because you were so sorry that you couldn’t do that for me anymore. I think about you when I talk with dad, when I realize I’m going to know more about him and his life than I’ll ever know about you because you’re not here to tell stories about your life anymore, that it seems like you’re only here as other people’s stories. I guess that’s all you can be now, huh? I think about you when I do the things I think I know you enjoyed doing, but it feels so long since I’ve seen you. Will I ever really get to know you? I’m an adult now and it hurts knowing you won’t know who I am, of who I grow to be. It sort of aches, growing up and realizing you were a person before being my mom and all I’ll ever get to know is what other people who aren’t you know. Hopefully I get to live longer than you ever got to be, so it will be a while before I see you again and can ask you. Until then, I’m going to live my life so I have something to tell you too.

I love you and I miss you. I always will.