Dear Harry

You've been gone for two weeks now. I haven't been coping well. The boys have even sent me to a therapist to help me forget. But I can't forget. You're all I ever think about. Your luscious curls, the way you smile lights up a room, your green eyes that I love so much. You're impossible to forget. I don't want to forget.

Of course the boys are worried about me. I'm even worried about me. My therapist is worried as well, and that's why she has handed me this journal, so I can write down my innermost thoughts. I have to give it to her every week to read over, but I just feel so weird giving it to her. Most of my thoughts revolve around you, so I guess that's why she wants to read it over, to make sure I'm handling everything well.

But to be honest, I'm not, and yes I'm fairly aware she will read this. But the truth has got to come out sooner or later, yeah? She never specifically told me what to write, but just that I have to write. So I'm writing to you. Starting from day one.


53. Day eighty-two

I swore I heard you singing today. In the middle of my showering, I could hear the faint hum of your voice singing along with the song blaring through the speakers. The voice was so beautiful and alluring, I found myself instantly becoming entranced within it. I knew it was your voice the second I heard it.
You sound so beautiful Harry. You truly sound like an angel now.
I visited your grave finally again today, with three roses this time, for the two days that I missed. When I sang, I could hear the echoing chorus of your own voice melodizing with my own. I sang “Moments” just for you, because I know how much you liked that song. I remember one time you teared up while performing it, and had to wipe the tears away as you continued.

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