Dear Amto,

It’s been three long years since I last saw you or spoke to you. This time has been the hardest because you were not here; I know you know that very well but I know it wasn’t your choice to leave this world. It was too sudden, don’t you think?

Because this is a special day, I decided to write you a letter. You are probably not expecting this, maybe you want me to visit your grave on this anniversary but that is too hard, it hurts too bad Amto, so please accept this letter and give me some time to get accustomed to the idea of your humble abode.

Do you remember our last phone call? I have to tell you I was not going to answer. I knew you dialed my number by mistake, as you used to, but maybe it was divine providence that wanted us to have a final chat that morning, and I answered. Sometimes I think of the way I would have felt if I hadn’t answered your call, and later on in the day knew you ceased to be in this physical world. That would’ve been so horrible, I would’ve never forgiven myself for it.

And then that night I was up and I got another call telling me you died.

Maybe I sound really shallow when I say this but I still expect to see you here. That night I didn’t cry, I helped mom reach dad because he was away. It was such a grave shock that I was numb and I was going about talking and doing things just like I used to, it hadn’t sunk in yet.

Someone has your fridge magnets now, but it’s someone you love so she’s taking care of them. I remember how much fun I would have teasing you by playing with them, and we all remember how much you hated it when someone touched your fridge magnets. Now they’re safe, I don’t play with them anymore.

I never really intended for this letter to be so sad but I guess that’s not something I can control. I have another bit of news for you, but I know you won’t like it. I don’t go to your home anymore. Ever since you passed away all things in that city, all the streets we used to walk, the shops we used to visit, the neighbors, and your house; they’re all too gray for me. Your house is empty now, all the tons of souvenirs you had are gone, the furniture is not there anymore, and the plants are dead. They died Amto; I think they missed you too much.

This may sound too hallmark-like to you but I remember you in everything I do. I sometimes even talk like you, and repeat your trademark words; they make me laugh. The days when I would wake up at 2 AM and find myself in tears don’t happen that often anymore, I stopped asking my family to “bring you back”, but sometimes I have the oddest most vivid dreams about you. I dream you were away in another country, and it is so real Amto I can’t tell you how real it is, and you come back and live like you used to. I never dream and know it, but the dreams involving you I never forget. It’s funny and a little scary to think I really tried calling you after you died, I really did. I guess I really wasn’t buying it; maybe this whole thing is a farce anyway, right?

But leave all those things aside. How are you? I know you are in a better place because I know you deserved heaven right here on earth, but never got it. It’s natural for me to ask how you are although you’re dead to people, you’re never dead to me. I don’t want you to think I don’t love you because I don’t visit your house. I don’t visit it because it is not your house any longer, it is not the same place you lived in and it is so void without you. I loved all your things because they were related to you, and now that you’re gone they have lost their appeal. Don’t think I need only this date to remind me of you. I have your picture next to my bed, but not in my purse because it might get stolen and then I would feel so bad. Isn’t that the most childish thing you’ve ever heard of?

There is so much I want to say to you but I will leave it for later, you can read it in my diary, all of it. I want you to know, and I know you do, that I love you more than anything and that I will try not to let you down. You’ve always wanted a daughter and considered me your own, and there hasn’t been a time that I’ve been your daughter more than I am today. It never sunk in, Amto.

Love,
Tololy