A Letter from the Girl Who Died

on her would-be 24th birthday

Illustration by Author

Dear Mom,

It was nice seeing you in your dream today. I’m sorry if I disturbed your nap, but I can tell when you’re open to a visit. It’s rare lately, so I dropped in, gave you that hug, and we laughed together.

I promise I was really there.

You choose how old I appear. Did you know that? That’s why I was a young child in your dream, all smiles, just like in the photos you’ve been looking at.

I’m sorry I’m not 24 today. I know this makes you sad. The thing about birthdays is that I had two of them — the one where you got to meet me and the one where you said goodbye.

There’s love on both days. It followed me into your world and it came with me when I crossed over into this place where my soul landed. Some people call it heaven. I call it home.

You count my absence in years because time is how you make sense of the world, but time is a trinket for living bodies. I haven’t abandoned you. I’ve been nearby this whole time. I help you notice the sky, show you essays and books and podcasts, put stories in your path to guide you to the words you need to write.

Stop being so stubborn. You put up a wall whenever I try to reach you. You turn away. You don’t believe the…