Dear Daisy,
I got a call from mom twenty minutes ago, she said you died this morning. And I denied what she said because we were together. And she said you passed, just ten minutes after I left the house. Then she said she’s sorry and that she loves me and that I should be home soon.
But I’m not home. I was just out of the house 30 minutes ago. 10 minutes after I left, you died. And 20 minutes after, mom called me. So now I forgot where I was going and instead, I’m sitting under a tree, in the park, writing this to you. I don’t know why I’m writing this, but I just felt like it. Somehow, I don’t believe what I was told. It’s hard for me to understand. I was just sitting with you on your bed, waking you up and laughing and telling you I love you and ten minutes later you died. It is so hard for me. So hard.
Maybe I’m writing this because I think it’s true, mom can’t be lying to me. But a part of me is wishing, hoping, and almost beliving this is some sort of joke. Surprise. Anything. Anything that proves you’re still alive. But I don’t know. And I can’t know until I get home. I guess I’ll go now, maybe I’ll find you laughing at my face or jumping on me or something. Maybe.
Love,
Jasmine.
