July 24th, 2024
Happy birthday, little one! We are officially 26 years old. I still need to work on a lot and have been putting off writing this to you for a while. The remnant of our past lingers in my mind and still upsets me, so I will try not to cry while writing this (still anxious as ever). I look back at past letters and things Yia Yia and Mom have said to you so I can use them as a resource since I am not too good at opening up, but I will try my best; I promise you it will not be as good as they spoke to you, but it will still be enough. You are my muse; you showed me strength when it felt like the world was placed on our shoulders. You inspired me to do anything in life that I manifest for myself. You are brave; you spoke up when things were wrong and cared for others before yourself. Finally, you are resilient; stuff you do not speak on that you struggled with and handled from such a young age has shown who you are.

I questioned how we became such a good person if our past had shown differently. From generational trauma, you continuously try to break, but it still comes up for air. To the infinite love you have inside of you for others and not yourself, you have let depression overstay its welcome, but it has never taken away your love from the inside of your soul, which has amazed me. You would be 24 today if I did not have you screaming in my head not to do this to your family; I chose to walk downstairs instead of making a decision you know all too well about the grief it gives others. Every year, the day after today, I still have a piece of you: the 7-year-old girl who found out her dad passed away, the 15-year-old teenager who found her dad’s news article that he shot himself, and the 24-year-old who almost did the same thing, but you stopped me. I don’t believe I would have had the strength to do it, but just the thought was enough to bring you to the surface, the most robust inner child I have ever met to this day.

Writing to you has released a lot off my chest, and I thank you for listening. You have always been a great listener, and I love you for that. Today, I work as a 911 operator, saving lives for the last five years, which is not close to what you have done for me my whole life. I have written this letter repeatedly, thinking of different ways to place these words and speak to you, but I hope this helps you understand that you have always been enough. I am forever thankful it went God’s way and not ours for most things. Mom has always done her best to protect us, and there is a reason she kept the truth away from us for so long. Your dad loved you, and it was not your fault. He went through so much in life that led him to that point; he no longer suffers in this cruel world and is in a better place looking down on us. You can release the past trauma and live presently. I have learned a lot over the last few years, and it certainly opened my eyes to speak to yourself with a positive tone and never negatively, which will affect you.

Last year was the first year I brought Dad’s ashes out after 18 years to watch a sunset on our birthday. I also grabbed a cupcake for old memories to enjoy what we couldn’t the day we found out. In the years I have not allowed us to enjoy a birthday, I finally looked inside and let you out to play, not to keep you locked up. You guided me towards better things and how to handle situations. So here is to another year of life and another candle for you to blow out. Make a wish.

Do not tell me what it was, but I am thankful for you and life. I will see you at church on Sunday and wish you peace, happiness, love, and faith.

I want to share with you my favorite quotes:

“Be your light in the darkness; you are the only one who can help yourself.”

“Life isn’t about surviving the storm; it’s about learning how to dance in the rain.”

“I watch the sunset to feel the serotonin, seeing for myself the beauty and art our loved ones paint across the sky from above.”

Love you always, A. Simone