Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to

Dear Aunt Sabrina,

I think you’d be confused as to why I chose to write you, but you have to know that I’ve been lucky enough not to lose anyone very close to me so far, and since you and I never met it seems fitting. This is one letter I wish I could get a reply from. I wish you could tell me what my dad was like before you died. I wonder what all of them were like. I wonder if they were any different at all, because I know problems existed far before you were gone. I wonder if you were the sunshine in the room. I wonder if you were anything like my sister and I. When I was a little girl I remember asking who you were when I saw your picture. My dad told me that you were his sister, but that you were in heaven now. No one really ever spoke of you, and they don’t even now. I know nothing about you besides how you died. I grew curious and searched for your name on the internet, and what saddened (and scared) me was that all that came up was the date of your death, and your social security number.

Even if they don’t speak of you, the lack of your presence can still be felt. I don’t know if they realize it, but every year at the time of your death they’re always unhappy. Maybe it’s an unspoken understanding between them, but I can’t help but to think that maybe they just feel safer in their denial. If you had been my sister you would have been in my thoughts every day. I can’t believe I’ve been on this earth just a few years longer than you have, now. When I think of you, you remind me of how fragile life is, and I still wonder what it would’ve been like if you were still here. I think my dad does too.

Goodnight, Sabrina.