“Why did you have to die?”

“Why couldn’t you live long enough for you to see me?”

“Why couldn’t god give you a longer lifespan to see me as I am now.”

“Your daughter.”

“The daughter you never had. The daughter you dreamed of.”

“When I talk to daddy, he always tells me that you would love me for who I am.”

“I don’t know if it’s true. I mean, I’ll never truly know.”

“I just know I wish you stayed alive long enough to see me.”

“Not the little boy who you used to see running around the house. Playing with his toys.”

“Not the little boy who stayed up in his room away from the world. Too scared of it to come out.”

“Not the little boy you used to hear screaming and yelling at the TV screen. Taking his uncontrolled fury on it.”

“Not the little boy who used to lay in his room crying at night. Praying to god to make him a girl.”

“I wish you could see me.”

“Your daughter.”

“Your daughter that smiles brightly and tells everyone to have a nice day.”

“Your daughter that never gets angry or hate anyone.”

“Your daughter that’s standing here looking at your picture with tears in her eyes. Hoping, praying, that you would’ve accepted me for me.”

“Your daughter that fantasies going back in time to before puberty and telling you about me.”

“Your daughter.”

“The daughter you never met.”

"I miss you, mommy."