Dear Maya,
It’s Daisy. I have something to tell you.
“She slept on your bed and took up all the room.”
Remember that? I do. That was one of my favorite things.
I died. That means my body stopped working, and it can’t start again. It doesn’t hurt anymore.
It was nobody’s fault. Not yours. Not anything you said, or did, or forgot to do.
You can be sad. You can be mad. You can also play and laugh, even on the same day. I always liked it when you laughed.
When you miss me, you can draw me, or tell someone a story about me. You can say my name as much as you want.
You took such good care of me. I was so lucky it was you.
Love, always,
Daisy