I'm sorry it has been so long. I hope you didn't get too lonely and I hope you can read my mind when I talk to you so you don't have to rely on these messages. I thought of so many things to say to you but I didn't make time to write it all down here. I'm sorry. Grandpa is getting an ablation done for his AFIB soon, which should go fine. He doesn't have any blockages. I forgot to tell you that he was in the hospital for a few weeks at the end of August into September (maybe I have the dates mixed up, it might have been early August) because he thought he was having a heart attack. He drove himself! Anyway, he got all these tests run and they said he has AFIB like his brother and dad and also likely Broken Heart Syndrome. If ever you had a doubt about his love for you, here is the ultimate proof. His heart broke over losing you. It was impossible to see him hooked up to all the machines, with IV ports, nurses, a soiled hospital bed, sitting weak in the recliner in his gown. I've never seen him like that before. I remember when I was a kid his arms were covered in scratches and burns and scabs from working with APS and they would peel off and bleed all the time and he never seemed to notice; also his infamous "I've never been to the hospital except for when I had swimmer's ear at 12." It was awful. I visited him and brought banana bread--the tables had turned for the day. He's better now. I cleaned out the upstairs room when I visited about a month ago. The bed is all made, and I bought a new white duvet insert. I got rid of most of your clothes. That was really hard. I wanted to keep everything, but I couldn't so I didn't. I kept your black slinky Chico's sleeveless top with the lace flowers on the neckline, two cardigans, your leopard print shoe organizer, and the giant stuff & things hanging organizer you had. I also took some scarved, clothes pins, safety pins, and jewelry. I have your locket and jewelry hanger. I use your scarves for my window as a little curtain and as a runner on my dresser. I have a shrine to you know. I wish I could show you, but that would probably be a little depressing--though you did talk about death and dying a lot, so maybe not. I remember after your first heart attack like...10 years ago? You were already planning your funeral--what kind of wood you wanted for a casket. By the time you actually died you decided on cremation. I feel so sad that you have to sit in that little box inside of another little box away from all of us, sweltering and freezing in there next to a bunch of other strangers' ashes.

Also, now I can tell you about mom's boyfriend--I think you would have had a hard time processing it if you were here. His name is Samir, he's Algerian-French, and 32. THIRTY-TWO!! She would be canceled if she was a male celebrity. Maybe not, though, because she isn't a predator. I don't blame her. Look at the demographic of Arizonan 45-60 year olds. Yucky. Can you even imagine that? Of course she picked something out of the ordinary for probably most women over like...45 or 50. I think he's great. He's staying with us for two months. Grandpa doesn't know because she think he'd think it's weird. She always was worried about what you two thought and was very secretive because of it. I feel bad saying that to you but it's not like this is real or you can actually here me. I'm just word vomiting because there is so much grief inside of me I don't know where else to put it or what to do with all of it. I just wish you were here.

Evan's grandma is dying now. She has Alzheimer's and her husband has MS. It's terrible. She forgets where she is at restaurants and stuff and weighs like 95 pounds. I'm glad I got to spend time with her and Evan together while she was more with it. I remember telling you about her and Don and you said something to the effect of, "Look at me, I'm complaining about my Parkinson's and they can't even walk or remember anything. I should be grateful. Why am I so miserable?" and that made me really sad. You suffered your whole life. You suffered especially so the last 5 years. Everything you felt was real. You weren't crazy or psyching yourself out; some of the stuff at the end--like the FBI wiretapping, that was borderline delusional--I think was really bad anxiety spiraling. I'm sorry your brain and body were such a bad way. I wish I could have helped you. I liked when we talked about feeling depressed or anxious, I hope it was comforting or you felt less alone.

After you died I had panic attacks daily and didn't leave the house for two months. The only thing I could do was take care of/stay with grandpa, stay at home, and see Evan. I went upstairs and laid where you died the morning of and just smelled the sheets. I thought I was going to die. I wanted to die. I felt like you and grandpa were my tether to life. I owe so much of my life to you. There isn't a single memory I have of my childhood where you aren't there. I'm so glad I wrote you that letter. If I hadn't given it to you I might have really killed myself because you wouldn't have known, like really known not just assumed because we're family or whatever, how much I love you.

I miss you everyday. I cry for you at least every other day and often multiple times a day. I can't talk about you to anyone because as soon as I say "my grandma" I start crying. I thought so much about hurrying up and graduating so I could move back down and live with you and cook for you everyday and feed you and take you out on little walks around the complex so you could get strong again. Get your color back and gain some weight.

This is off-topic, but I saw your birth certificate and it had you listed as white and your dad as white, too. I figure your mom didn't have him present when that was all declared. That was pretty funny to me. You went your whole life named Mee Fong Moy and were censuse'd as white. Your family was threated by the KKK but! on paper you're white and so is your dad--definitely not Asian...haha...

I am so glad to have your name. Even though it feels a little silly because it warrants an explanation. I have "Mee Fong" on all my documents, I got to hear it at graduation, it's on my license, and it will be on all documents I receive or fill out going forward and you'll be there, too, in my name. Our name, actually.

I hope that everything you believed in came true and that you get to see Vicky and all your other brothers and sisters and your mom and dad. I hope you see my mom's baby. That story is still nuts to me. Mom talked about it after you died. You fished a literal fetus out of the toilet. I could never stop talking about that. That's what I tell people when I talk about you because it shows who you were.

I really lived in a fantasy world with you. I really thought it was all going to get better and you just had to realize one day that you wanted to live and wanted to take care of yourself, but it wasn't going to happen and I still don't know why. This is too much right now, I'm sorry. I want to tell everyone about you all the time, your whole life story beginning to end. I love you and I miss you and I cry for you. I'm going to learn a piece on the piano for you, too. I tried learning Jambalaya on the Bayou for grandpa but I didn't finish. OK. More later. Kisses and hugs.