She wanted me to share her words.
She trusted me to tell her story.
I was honored when my friend Erica sent me entries from her personal diary, asking that I share them with the world so that people would know what she was thinking — what she was feeling — in her final days.
Last month, Erica passed away peacefully in her sleep, on the morning after I published her words. All those things that she had wanted to express before she said goodbye. It feels bittersweet. I’m grateful that I was able to publish her words. She was so proud to see the final draft. But I’m angry. Angry that I can’t show her all the beautiful messages that people are writing to her now. Angry that I can’t call her or hear her voice or tell her that I love her one last time.
