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.

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51. Day seventy-nine

I think it’s going to be a daily routine, visiting your grave. I promise to bring a rose every day, just so I can at least compare somewhat to all of these beautiful flowers surrounding you. There are daisies and lilies, you always loved lilies.
I sat and sang to you today; I hope you heard it wherever you are. I know how much you love that song. It brings the memories flooding back to me, and I remember that day at the judge’s house when you sang your heart out just to impress them. I’ll never forget your voice in that song, or your voice in any song for that matter.
But I sang it for another reason, Harry.
I’m torn. I really am. I don’t know what to do… and I just want you to send me something, anything at all. I need a sign telling me if I’m making the right decision or not.

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