Things we lost in the fire

Letter to Harper Burke.

Dear Harper.
I don't know you as a person at all. I don't know if you're kind, funny or sad. But that doesn't matter to me. You see, I really need to talk to someone. I can't talk with my dad, or my sisters. That is why I chose to send this letter all over the Atlantic ocean to you. Because I am in desperate need of a friend. Even if you don't answer me, that's okay. At least I know that someone has read it. That somebody thinks of me. I don't want you to be sorry for me, I want you to know that we are more people that is going through just what you are.
So here's my story:
I love my mom. And I love my dad. Though they're so different, and its easier to talk about important stuff with my mom. She's always been there for me. To pick me up after school, dry my tears that fell over a stupid boy called Jamie, do my hair, teach me how to tie my shoelaces, and many more things. But don't get me wrong, my dad has always been there also, though in another way. He was more the kind that watched me learn how to tie my shoelaces and then he would say some good comment on how to improve my tying or tell me how nice I looked after mom and I had shopped new clothes for me.
I miss my mom.
She died exactly one year ago. She was heading home from work to pick me up for my dancing-lesson. I stood there for a long time, waiting for her at the sidewalk to our house. I remember everything very clear before I found out. I stood and waited for exactly 40 minutes, and I got so worried when my lesson already had started and my mom hadn't arrived yet. I tried to call her work, but they said she'd already left. Then I called her cell, I only got to her answering message every time, - Hi! this is Maria, I can't answer the phone right now so please leave a message after the tone... I left three messages.
When my dad came home and saw me standing at the sidewalk he had this strange look on his face. He didn't look sad. He looked worried. He didn't know anything yet. Then he drove me to practice and I was 20 minutes late. Nobody was mad at me, thank god!
When it was my dad that came and picked me up I got more worried. His expression had changed from worried to really sad. His eyes were all red and puffy. When he told me what had happened to mom I just sank into some kind of coma. I couldn't move a finger. My dad hugged me and we sat like that for a long time. Just hugging each other in the car. After that everything's a blur. I know we went home to tell my sisters, then we all sat quietly and cried in the livingroom. I don't think anyone actually could understand that she was dead. I also remember that we went to the hospital, from there I don't remember much. Though I know I saw her. She was pale with a lot of blood on her clothes and her legs were in a strange angle. It didn't look lilke my mom. I think that is why I really didn't understand that she was gone, that I would never talk to her again...
They told us she had died quite instantly, no actual pain. I didn't know if itwas good to die instantly or not. I was too tired to think. And I still am.
Today I feel like a ghost. I sit in school and am trying to concentrate on the algebra that the teacher is talking about. But I don't comprehend anything at all. I don't think about my mother, actually, I don't think at all. My mind is all fuzzy and my glance is blank. My friends keep telling me that I am sort of 'not there' sometimes. I don't know what to do about it.

My dad has this friend. Emily. She's around our house all the time! Daddy just says she's a friend that helpes him with dealing through the sorrow. Though, I know she doesn't just want to be his friend. She's already trying to act like a mom. Though, she's nothing like my mom. She's pedantic and she always cook this really healthy (and disgusting) food. I probably should say that my dad isn't really good at cooking, and the past few months he wasn't good at anything. So I can admit that he did need someone to look after him, but not someone to be inlove with. He's still not over my mom and he doesn't think of Emily that way. I can see that, so I know. It really bothers me that Emily keeps calling me ”sweetie” and ”honey”. My mom used to call me honey, and I DON'T WANT EMILY TO ACT LIKE MY MOTHER!

Today something really grasped me. Dad was cleaning in his and mom's room, and he was cleaning out mom's stuff. This has happened before, so that's not what got me started thinking. Though this time he did it really thoroughly, I suppose Emily got him doing it this time. I started thinking about my mom being dead when he came into my room with three of my mom's favourite shirts. He asked me if I wanted to have them, or else he would throw them out. That somehow released a lock för me. I could feel the tears filling up in my eyes. I took the shirts and hurried my dad out of the room.
Then I started crying, a lot. It had somehow released a lock for me. I laid down on my bed and cried. And suddenly I felt this huge hole in my chest. I finally understood that mom was gone, forever. I have never, ever felt this hopeless, sad and incomplete in my whole life. This day is almost even worse than the day she died.
Before today, I couldn't understand that people can actually feel so bad that they try to kill themself. But now I do know. I love my mom so much, and I can't bare this grief. I want her to come back. And if she isn't, then I want to come to her. The only thing that stopped me from actually complete the suicide-thing was this thing that kept coming up in my head. It was something that mom said to me after a girl at school killed herself, - it's so selfish, didn't she think about her parents?. And actually, I totally agreed. So at two o'clock in the morning I came to the conclusion that I think mom would be really mad at me for killing myself if she was alive.
Now it's six o'clock and I'm still feeling really bad with myself. I don't know how to pass through tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, or next week. I don't want you to tell me what to do. I just want you to read this, and understand my feelings. And also, I'm really sorry about your dad. I know what you're going through, and by now you know that I'm not just saying this to be kind like so many other people do. I actually do know what you're going through. So maybe this letter is helping you with dealing with your father's death. But it really did help me, it feels like you're a friend that I really can tell everything to. And I think you are.
So thank you for reading this. I am not going to tell you my name because I don't want you to know exacty who I am. After this letter you already know who I am, and these things are enough. The only thing you're going to get is the sender adress, if you want to answer.
Thanks again.

With love.
A friend.