Mom, Dad,

I know I keep saying I’m fine. I know I made it sound like I wanted you to leave me alone, and maybe for a while I did. Or I wanted to be the kind of person who could handle being left alone. I don’t think those are the same thing.

I know staying here hurts. Sometimes I think that is why you went away, and sometimes I think it was because looking at me made you remember that she was gone.

I tried to make it easy for you. I said I had school. I said I had work. I said I had friends. I made jokes so you wouldn’t hear how scared I was. I kept thinking that if I sounded normal enough, then maybe you could be gone without it meaning anything.

I am scared a lot more than I tell anyone. Things keep happening, and I keep making them worse because I don’t know how to ask for help until it is already an emergency. I have people here who care about me, but that doesn’t make me stop wanting my parents. It doesn’t make this stop being our house.

You can be angry. You can ask me questions. You can tell me I’ve been reckless, because I have. You can tell me you don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do either. Just please don’t make me keep being the only Wilson here.

Come back for a week. Come back for one night. Sit in the kitchen. Mow the lawn. Complain about the dishes. Make me tell you where I’ve been. Do something ordinary enough that I can remember we used to have ordinary problems.

And if you really can’t come home, then please call me and tell me why. Don’t have someone else explain it. Don’t send a card. Don’t wait until you think I’m ready, because I don’t think I’m ever going to be ready to hear that you chose not to come back.

I found out more about Madison. I don’t know how to put it in an email.

I love you. I’m sorry I made it so hard to tell.

Love,
Jess