Dear Joshua,

I love writing your name. Full swoony geek disclosure: I practiced writing it after our first date. In calligraphy. How dorky is that?

Are you doing all right, honey? I hope you’re sleeping okay. I know how you get when you’re stressed. Listen to one of those relaxation apps at bedtime. Try some CBD gummies—they helped me—or a Benadryl if you need to. I worry about you.

Me, I bet I’m sleeping great . . . not in the sleeps-with-the-fishes way, but maybe in the sleeps-with-the-dolphins way. Wouldn’t that be amazing? I could be on a raft on a gentle azure ocean where there are no sharks or bitey things. I’m dozing and rocking while baby dolphins leap over me. Maybe I am one of those dolphins. At any rate, you don’t have to worry about me. The Great Beyond is (I’m 99.999 percent sure) fantastic.

Are you getting outside enough? Taking Pebbles for a walk or run? Keep her healthy. Don’t overfeed her. Please tell her I love her, okay? Tell her I’m sorry I had to go away, and she was the best dog ever. IS the best dog ever. (She’s sitting next to me on the bed as I write this, and when I cry, she sits right on my lap, puts her paws on my shoulders and licks my tears. I want to think she’s comforting me, but I think she just wants the salty deliciousness.)

I hope the grocery shopping task went well. Tell Yolanda hi from me. Actually, that would be weird, wouldn’t it? “My dead wife sends her best!” Better skip that.

This month, honey, I want you to have some people over for dinner. I know you’ll hate that idea, but I think you need to eat with humans once in a while, not just Pebbles. Bring some life into the apartment. Maybe have a few laughs, even.

Invite my sister and Darius, Mom (or not), your mom, maybe Sarah. Cook for them. Let them hug you. Go ahead and talk about me and cry if you need to. But let them come into our home and be part of your life, honey. Don’t shut them out. They love you. Or just invite people who don’t know you that well but seem nice. Your patent attorney whose name I can’t remember right now. She was nice. One of your old professors from RISD. Creepy Charlotte from the first floor, who eye-fucks you every time she sees you. (Just kidding! Do not invite that woman to my house!)

It really doesn’t matter who. I’m so sorry that I put you in this place, Josh. I’m with you, though. I live in your heart, and there’s no better place I could be.

I hope you’re doing a little better, showering and eating and maybe working some, too. Getting some sunshine. I don’t know what time of year I died, but get sunshine even if it’s winter.

I love you so, so much. With all my heart, liver, pancreas, stomach, kidneys, and even with my crappy lungs.

Now make some calls. Don’t be a loser.

I love you.

Lauren