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This Is Us
A Letter From My Daughter on the 4th Anniversary of Her Death
On having faith, and giving permission to let go
“How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again.”
— Henry Scott Holland
Dear Mom,
The light is different here. If you saw how this place shines, I think you’d stop worrying about me. The light connects the landscape to every part of itself. It moves. It sparkles.
It links the souls together like pearls knotted in an endless strand. You know how pearls hold iridescence inside all those layers of shell? Well, if you look into the center of a pearl, you’ll get a taste of the light that surrounds me. Go do that now. You see?
When I died, there were people who waited like lanterns beside a path, guiding me to this place. You knew some of them. They’re waiting to guide you too.
Some nights, I try to show you where I am.
I wait until your consciousness slips close to the edge of sleep and I speak to you, but you never hear me. You don’t know I’m there because you’re looking for the wrong version of me.
I am a kaleidoscope of light, a forest of patterns, a bouquet of shifting fractals. You look past the…
