June 26, 2017, one day since Mitch died

My love,

It hurt more because I was the one who found you. I was the one who first saw your lifeless body.

I'm not okay, Mitchie.

I thought you were, though. I thought you were, and it's my fault you're gone.

I was supposed to help you. I was supposed to be there for you, your shoulder to cry on. But no, I just had to go to the gym yesterday morning. When I said goodbye to you and gave you a kiss, I had no idea it was going to be our last.

It didn't set in at first. No, when I first saw you lying on the floor with the empty pill bottle, I thought it had to be some kind of sick joke. There was no way you were dead. You couldn't be dead.

The tears came when I read your note.

That was when it set in. Of course, I had to bring you back. It didn't matter that you were already dead. I couldn't lose my Mitchie.

The first thing I thought of was true love's kiss. Cliché, I know. But I tried. I tried and tried, kissing your cold lips over and over and over in the hopes that I might see your beautiful brown eyes again.

And then I just held you. I collapsed by your body and scooped you up in my arms, thinking that even though I couldn't bring you back, I could at least let you know from wherever you are that I love you.

It really hurt when I couldn't feel your heart beating.

Eventually I knew I had to let you go. So, I kissed you one last time and dialed 9-1-1. They took your body away, and all I was left with was the last thing your soft hands ever made and the thing that took my love away.

I'm so tempted to join you, sweetheart. Unbelievably tempted. I want so badly to buy another bottle of the pills you took, because they clearly worked. But I know I can't. I have to help Kirstie and Avi and Kevin. They don't even know yet. I haven't worked up the courage to tell them.

I didn't sleep at all last night. Now, whenever I close my eyes, I can see your lifeless body.

This morning, when I woke up, I half-expected to see your beautiful smiling face next to me. But of course, you're gone, and I never will again.

When I remembered that, the tears came down once more.

I don't even know why I'm doing this. Can you tell me why I'm writing this pointless letter that will never be sent? It can't be sent anyway. As far as I know, Heaven doesn't have a mailbox.

I guess I feel like some part of you is still here, listening to me as I cry.

Please come back. I miss you. I love you.

Yours,

Scott xx