Dear Anna.

I miss you.

You don’t seem gone, but I know you are. I know you’re gone because there are still cookies on your nightstand. I know you’re gone because your favorite red coat is still hanging on a hook in the mudroom, and I know that you would never leave it here. I know you’re gone because the trampoline hasn’t been used in a while, and I know you’re gone because there’s a dull ache in my chest that won’t go away.

I’ve never really known a world without you, so everything seems a little out of focus. The normal sharp edges are hazy, and I’m not completely sure who I am. There’s a different person inside of me, and she seems very shy, because she doesn’t speak at all. I know I’m still Aubrey, because my body knows what to do. I know where to sleep, and I know where to sit, and I know that it’s you in the photo by my bed.

Pop keeps taking me to a grief counselor, but I’m not grieving. Because I’m not Aubrey. It’s Aubrey and Anna. It always has been.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not Aubrey anymore. Because you’re a part of her, I thought you should know that. I don’t know who this quiet person is, but I know that the old me loved you.

So goodbye. I miss you. I hope you have fun up there, wherever you are. I’ll write you later, when I know who I am.

See you,

Aubrey