365 Letters To Heaven

Chapter One It was a quiet evening in the little town where Ayo lived. The sun had dipped low, casting a soft orange glow over the empty streets, and the air smelled faintly of rain. But inside his small room, the world felt heavier—like a shadow pressing on his chest. His father had been gone for three months now. Three months since that day—the accident, the sirens, the hospital waiting rooms filled with hope that slowly slipped away. Ayo still remembered the hollow ache, the silence after the storm of tears and shouting. Tonight, something was different. The loneliness felt sharper, the emptiness louder. Ayo pulled out a battered notebook from under his bed. Its pages were blank, waiting for something — or someone. He picked up his pen, heart pounding. “Dear Dad,” he wrote, the words shaky, unsure. *I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you even want to. But I need to say this—because every day without you feels like I’m losing a part of myself.* He paused, staring at the page, the weight of the words settling. *I miss you. I miss your laugh, your voice, the way you always knew what to say when I was scared.* --- The pen trembled slightly in Ayo’s hand as he tried to push the tears back. Writing was harder than he thought. How do you tell someone you love them when they’re not there to hear it? *Since you left, everything feels different. Mom tries to be strong, but I see the cracks in her smile. My little sister keeps asking when you’ll come home. I don’t have answers for her. I don’t have answers for me.* Ayo’s eyes flicked to the window. Outside, the night had deepened. The world continued, oblivious to his pain. *Sometimes, I pretend you’re still here. Like you’re sitting beside me, telling me everything will be okay. But then I remember, and it hurts all over again.* He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. *Dad, I don’t know how to be without you. But I promise I’ll try. I’ll try to be brave like you wanted me to be. I’ll try to keep our family together.* Ayo wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. *I wish you could see me now. I wish I could hear your advice one more time.* He paused, then wrote the last words slowly, carefully. *I love you, Dad. Always.* He closed the notebook gently and looked up at the dark ceiling, feeling both broken and a little lighter. Maybe, just maybe, this was the first step to healing. ---