How Does Ava Dellaira Use Letters To Explore Grief In Love Letters To The Dead?

Ultimately, it's a love story. Not a romantic one, but a deep, fraught, unconditional love story between sisters. Dellaira portrays it in all its messy glory: the adoration, the resentment, the loyalty, the guilt, and the indelible mark it leaves on a person's soul.

My copy has dates at the top of each letter. That's your guide. Start with the earliest date and proceed to the latest. It's that simple. The entire narrative is anchored to a school year, so the dates keep you oriented. Follow the calendar Laurel follows.

I admired how it handled the topic of mental illness indirectly. May’s struggles and the celebrities’ tragedies hint at depression, addiction, and the systems that fail people. Laurel’s grief is mixed with a desperate need to understand ‘why,’ which is often unanswered. Healing, in this context, involves accepting the lack of a satisfying ‘why.’ It’s about making peace with ambiguity and focusing on the ‘what now’ instead of the ‘why then.’ That’s a mature, difficult lesson the book gently leads its protagonist (and reader) toward.

I remember putting the book down and just thinking about how perfectly the format captured that teenage habit of talking to posters on your wall. It felt so authentic, not like an authorial trick. Laurel doesn't get magical advice from these ghosts; she's just using them as blank pages to project onto. The letter format allows for nonlinear storytelling—memories of her sister surface when triggered by a detail about Judy Garland or Heath Ledger. It feels messy and real, not neatly chronological. You piece together the full picture of what happened to May the same way Laurel does: in fragments, through association. It's less about the dead celebrities themselves and more about the spaces they leave behind, which Laurel fills with her own story. The ending, where the format subtly shifts, hits so much harder because of the structural groundwork laid by all those one-sided letters.

It makes her incredibly self-absorbed, which is a brutally honest portrayal. Grief shapes her journey by narrowing her world to the point where she can barely see the pain of others. A huge part of her arc is the dawning, shameful realization that she's been the star of her own tragedy while ignoring supporting actors who are also devastated. The letters are initially a monument to her own suffering. Her journey toward healing is parallel to her journey toward empathy for the other people left behind.

My favorite aspect was how it handled guilt. She uses the letters to confess small, specific sins she thinks contributed to her sister's death—a fight they had, a secret she kept. Putting them in a letter, even to a dead person, is an act of assigning weight to those actions. It's like she's building a case against herself. Watching that case slowly unravel as she learns the broader truth is the emotional core of the book. The letters are the indictment; the live-action plot is the trial.