I don’t really know what to put here, but I’ll try.
I don’t know you, and I never will. The only memories I will ever have will be the ones told to me by other people, and not a single one will be my own.
I’ve struggled with faith for a long time, wondering if there truly is a God. How could this have happened? Every time I hear someone say that it’s all part of God’s plan, it makes my blood boil. Because how could a child losing their father be a part of God’s plan? I cannot think of one single good or logical reason.
Was it to make me stronger? Because all I feel is weak.
Every time someone asks about my parents, I have to tell them that my dad is dead, and that results in them apologising. It’s not like it’s their fault. But then again, that’s all I think about: whose fault is it? The person driving? The person who didn’t pick up the phone? Or was it my dad’s fault for getting himself into such a situation?
There’s no right answer, and that’s what angers me. I want someone to blame for the pain that I feel. I want to hate them, and for them to feel my hate.
It makes me mad that I’m only just now starting to grieve, while it feels like everyone else has moved on with their lives. When will I be able to?
Honestly, if somehow the universe let me have five minutes with him, I don’t even know what I would say. I mean, what do you even say to your dad, who doesn’t know you and who you don’t know?
It sits with me at night, and I know I will never have an answer. But someday, I hope I can find peace with that.
Amelia Baye Harrison Cooper
09/08/2026
