I came to another entry, which was a bit more recent.

May 7, 1989
Dear Mother,

Sometimes I wonder if there’s a God. I’ve found myself thinking about this a lot lately. The thing is, when I cry out in pain on my most desperate of days, there doesn’t seem to be an answer. Only the resounding echo of my grief. I don’t understand it. I just feel so alone, and when I look at the sky through my window, all I see are clouds.
Then again, if there’s no God, then there are no angels either. If that’s true, then how come I still see you in my dreams? I’ve held onto the notion that you’re an angel now, and sometimes I can almost picture you being present here. You’re all I have left of what once was.