I'd send a postcard to you, dear
'Cause I wish you were here

Dear Ethan,

I miss you.

I'm beginning to forget what life was like when you were around. I like to think that everything you did meant something. . . that you actually loved me.

Some of your things are still laying around the house. Your games, your clothes, your gifts from fans. Just looking at the stuff makes me miss you so much more.

I don't know why I haven't gotten rid of your stuff by now. It should be easy to just give your clothes to GoodWill or to sell your games. But every time I try to force myself to do it, I freeze up and start crying.

I didn't mean to be so depressing. I don't want you to think that I'm not living my life without you. I am. I promise.

I went to see Mark the other day. He tried to make me feel better and it worked to an extent. Nothing can fill the hole that you left in my heart.

Now I'll get to the point of my letter, the thing that made me want to write in the first place.

I took a walk today. At the park where we used to hang out. I walked passed the playground where we would sit on the swings. Then to the one tree that was perfect for climbing and I would always have trouble getting down.

Then there's that cemetery near the park.

The one time we walked passed I remember you saying "wowie, that's a lot of graves."

It was funny at the time, but now it seems so sad.

I walked through the cemetery this time instead of just staying at the edge. I looked at each headstone as I passed and thought about how those people must have families and friends that miss them a lot.

Just like how I miss you.

That's exactly what I said when I came to your grave.

I miss you.

signed with love

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I'm sad

~Kat