02/25/2017, 3AM

Mrs Wilkins,

    I’m watching a show called Bates Motel right now, and it’s super good but this girl just lost her dad and so her and the main character keep talking about death and it’s really tripping me up. I really don’t want to go to your funeral tomorrow. Or today, whatever. I’m gonna cry like hell. Mom brought sunglasses for us though, so no one has to know.

    Troy’s gonna be in a whale tie, and anchor socks I think, and I’ll match him with a blue necklace and earrings (if I can create new earring holes). Don’t worry, even though it’s like 80 degrees out I’m wearing a long sleeve dress so your family won’t know I have tattoos.

    I met your dad for the first time, and your brother (I want to say Matt; I tend to mix him and Mark up. The brother who married the girl from Honduras). Both super sweet. I don’t mean to call them by their first names, of course, but they’re both Mr. Galloway so it’s hard to differentiate. I don’t really know how to act around anyone. I can’t image that’ll be remedied by tomorrow.

    Everything is planned for your funeral, of course, and my mom and Mrs Jarboe helped Mr Wilkins, of course, but I kind of want to keep some stuff a surprise for you. Not that I think you’ll be there, but I don’t know, we tried to be unconventional without spooking your traditional family. After the funeral, which I guess you didn’t want us to call a funeral but I don’t remember the word you wanted us to use, we’re going to march like they do in New Orleans to the hotel you had your fiftieth birthday. A band is going to follow us and everything. We’ll have some champagne and pomegranate juice there too; it’ll be sad, but it’ll be festive. I still don’t want to go.