Death Letterby a young man, age 16
Dear Baby Girl,
I never got to say goodbye to you. I was in JRA. I know how you died: shot in the neck by a sniper. You died in my mom’s arms. Before you died you walked to the house and up to her and made her follow you to your bed. That’s when my mom saw the blood and she cradled you. Then you died.
He was just a crazy guy next door, my dad’s friend’s friend because you trespassed just once onto his property. I see an animal on my property, I better just shoot her. He had anger inside that he couldn’t handle, he had mental problems just like me.
I know what I did to you was wrong. What I did to you was hit you, stuck you with needles and basically abused you. I did it because I had no other way to handle my rage. I felt like I should take it out on other species. And you were one of them. I’m sorry.
I remember that every time you went off our property you wouldn’t listen to my mom but you’d listen to me.
I remember that you slept in my bed every night, every time I was sad or depressed. It really felt like you were my real sister.
I remember that you protected me whenever I was scared. I also remember that you protected me from strangers that came to our door—you would growl and bark. I would open the door and you would chase after them.
You made me feel safe and loved.
I want to say goodbye now, but not forever. Please take care of your sisters and grandpa Peter, but especially yourself. I hope you have a good time in heaven with Jesus and God. Take care of them.
Love always and forever,
Dedicated to the CSTC doctors