"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 were the age I am now when you died. Did you think the same thoughts I do now? Did you wonder why you still don’t feel like a grown up? You had a husband and two children. You died on your youngest child’s birthday. I always wonder what your last thought was that night after you had finished blowing up the balloons ready to celebrate. I don’t know if you dying in your sleep comforts me or not. There’s so much people would have wanted to say to you if they knew it would be the last time. I don’t remember you and that saddens me. I remember only the morning you died. I sat on the stairs as I heard my own mother cry like her world had ended. She still misses you. I visit your grave sometimes and tell you stories. It’s funny how I can feel so close to someone even though I cant picture the contours of their face. Your children are parents now. Oh how you would have loved to be a grandmother. I hope you watch us. I hope you see. I hope you are there with us every step of the way.
I love you.