I'd Live For You, If Only I Could (Completed)

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Dear Mitch Grassi,

If you were still here, I would want to tell you this. Your fear didn't come true. The place where you died in my arms did not scar me or push me away. It grounded me, and it is my safe place. It is full of you. It has been years since you passed prematurely, and I can't say that I have come to terms with it without lying to myself or you, which I would never do. I do still love you, that will never change. To find closure, I started a foundation that donates to research and testing of possible cures for cancer. I live with Kirstie. She talks about you all the time, very fondly. She misses you, just like I do. Well, not exactly. She never knew what it was like to kiss you or hold you the way I did. She loves you, too, but in a different way than I do. I miss you every day, and some days when I wake up, alone in a bed made for two, it hurts just as bad as it did when I lost you.

I want to thank you, my dearest love, for holding on as long as you did. I know it was hard for you, living like that, with that thing inside you, always trying to pull you away. It was kind of like a tug-of-war. You were the rope, and cancer and I were fighting for you. I guess I wasn't strong enough in the end. I also want you to know that the night you died, I went back to Macy's and put and angel on the tree to thank Monica for what she wrote. I hope you two are together, wherever you are. I hope you're friends and you have everyone you love there. I hope you're happy. I hope you can see your dad again. I think it's best that you never knew what happened to him, why he never came back. It would've hurt you, and no one wanted that. We all loved you so much. We wanted to protect you. I wanted to protect you.

Kirstie says it's bad for me to keep writing letters to you, but I can't stop. I have an album full of them, paper clipped to your obituary from the newspaper. Can you believe it? You finally made the news. You're practically famous now. I look at your picture every day, on my bedside table. Sometimes I sleep with it on the pillow beside me and pretend it's you, that I am holding you again. I know I'm not, I haven't lost my mind, even if I do talk to you every once in a while.

Kirstie just got home, and I can't let her find this one. I've never been able to say what I wanted to say before, and I can't let her have this. I'm going to go now. I love you, Mitchie. I'll see you when I get there.

Love always,
Scott Hoying