Thirteen years ago you left.
The other night I dreamed about you. It was the first time you actually appeared. You held my hand as we went shopping.
I wish I could talk to you and Dad more and more.
I'm scared, but I can't give up, because neither of you would want me to.
I miss the way things were, but I guess it's up to me to create things I can look back on years from now and say, "gee, that was fun."
Still, thank you for being there during the best times of my life.