Dear Amy,

Love, Jon
(Your Buddy)

"The Reason " by Hoobastank I'm not a perfect person There's many things I wish I didn't do But I continue learning I never meant to do those things to you And so I have to say before I go That I just want you to know I've found a reason for me To change who I used to be A reason to start over new and the reason is you I'm sorry that I hurt you It's something I must live with everyday And all the pain I put you through I wish that I could take it all away And be the one who catches all your tears That's why I need you to hear I've found a reason for me To change who I used to be A reason to start over new and the reason is you I'm not a perfect person I never meant to do those things to you And so I have to say before I go That I just want you to know I've found a reason for me To change who I used to be A reason to start over new and the reason is you I've found a reason to show A side of me you didn't know A reason for all that I do and the reason is you

Thursday, March 25, 2004

I've spent so much time begging God to show me his purpose in this tragedy. It is at times like this when I just want to close my eyes and let God steer, because I just don't know where to go or what to do. I've tried to keep an even keel about all this, but it seems more like a high-speed motorcycle wreck in slow motion. I got hit a while back and for a while I was just trying to keep my composure, but little-by-little, I've lost it and I just absolutely crashed on Tuesday. Fortunately, I've decided to get up and brush myself off, but it is not easy. Amy left a note telling me that this is not my fault and not to blame myself... and even to pursue my dreams, but they seem meaningless since she's died. The other thing is that she said that she'd be watching me. I don't believe she is. Do you think she can see me from where she is? I bet she's so preoccupied with everything she's experiencing right now that I'm the last thing on her mind. I just pray that she had done whatever it is that gives God the green light to let her in heaven. She sure deserves it. The only thing is that I wasn't done with her here. She still had a good 40-50 years left in her. I don't know if I'd have been there for all of them, but I sure wanted to be.

Friday, March 26, 2004

Dear Amy,

This guy I've been talking to at church says that I should write you a letter, that maybe it would be good for me. Well, I suppose it can't hurt. I know that you said in your last note to me that you would always be watching me, so I guess if that is true you know how badly I miss you and how much I cry for you and how much I wish I could tell you that I love you one more time. Maybe. I'm just scared that you aren't watching. I want you to see how much you meant to me, because I know that you felt like you didn't matter to me, and that is part of the reason why you killed yourself. If I had only known that you felt like that, I would have been sure to correct you. Also, the second-to-last time you called, when you asked if after I got through these changes I needed to make if I would want to be with you, I meant to say "probably." But even with you dead, I can't say that I could have been certain. If I can't say yes now, then I was only being true to both of us when I said, "I don't know." Ever since you've left, my life has been so sad. Your parents have no idea what our favorite songs are or how much you liked Sting. It's probably good like that. I just wish I had one more day, one more hour to tell you what has happened to me since you've gone. I wish that you were here for me to love 100% like you did with me. I didn't understand how much you loved me. I didn't understand how much what I was asking you to do scared you. I didn't know that you were pushing yourself so far just for me. I didn't know you had all these problems. I didn't know that you needed a reason to live other than life... love... Montana... Dave & Jen... your/our kids... your future. I didn't want to break up for good. You know how many married couples broke up a couple times while they were going out? That could have been us, but you didn't give us that chance. You're gone. You're out of my life. You're dead. You're dead? Why? Why did you have to do this to me? Why did you do it where I live, where I work? That oil from your car is still there on the floor. My parents want me to move out now. I want to quit working for your dad. I haven't seen your family since the funeral. You were supposed to walk down the aisle of that church wearing a wedding dress, crying your eyes out. In stead you were rolled down the aisle as we all cried our eyes out. When I looked at your body that Monday, I realized how ugly of a dead person you are. I realized that it wasn't just your body that I loved (although I did), but it was you. Whatever it is that makes you you, and not that body I tried crying and talking to. Don't you know how much I love you? Don't you know that breaking up with you was so hard, but it was the right thing? Do you understand that I was leaving to make myself the best man that I can be, and if God had it in his plan for us to be together forever I would have been twice the man that you were in love with? The best was yet to come. I promise it was. What about Katie? What about your mom? She hasn't spoken to me since the viewing, which I was kicked out of. Dave and Jen are so cool. We went to Hacienda and had dinner after your viewing and talked for more than four hours about you. All three of us lost all track of time, and I kept thinking that you were just in the bathroom and we were talking behind your back. I kept thinking that you'd walk up to our table at any time and ask what we were talking about and we'd all say, "nothing." But you never showed, and we never made any excuses. I miss you so much Amy. I love you so much. My heart is so broken, I swear it aches. I just want to stop crying and hold you in my arms again. I want you to sit on my lap again and hug me like you did on Thursday. I promise I would believe you this time if you told me I was good enough.

Saturday, March 27, 2004

Dear Amy, Mom and dad are sitting in the kitchen talking about their days. I'm sitting here thinking about you. I wish you had come over a lot more. My parents really love you a lot, and I miss you. I keep thinking about all the times that we had opportunities to be together and we didn't.

Pray God you can cope I'll stand outside This woman's work This woman's world Oh it's hard on the man Now his part is over Now starts the craft of the father I know you've got a little life in you left I know you've got a lot of strength left I know you've got a little life in you left I know you've got a lot of strength left I should be crying but I just can't let it show I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking All the things we should've said that we never said And all the things we should've done that we never did All the things we should've given, but I didn't Oh darlin, make it go Make it go away Give me these moments Give them back to me Give me your little kiss Give me your... (I know you've got a little life in you left) Give me your hand baby (I know you've got a lot of strength) Give me that pretty hand (I know you've got a little life in you left) Oh surely you understand (I know you've got a lot of strength left) My lovechild (I know you've got a little life in you left) Whatever you need (I know you've got a lot of strength left) Give me your hand (I know you've got a little life in you left) Give me your hand (I know you've got a lot of strength left) I should be crying but I just can't let it go I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking All the things we should've said that we never said And all the things we should've done that we never did All the things that you wanted from me All the things that you needed from me All the things we should've given, but I didn't Oh darlin, make it go Just make it go away. "This Woman's Work" Maxwell

Aim, if there is ever one thing in this life that I could change is that I could have just one more day with you. I would tell you how much I love you and how much I wanted to be the best man I could be for you, not simply the best you've ever had... I didn't think that was good enough. I wanted to be the best. You were so good to me, so loving, so kind, so giving. I wanted to be the man that would never think of you when I heard that song.

Tuesday, April 06, 2004

Amy, I don't know why I did it, but today I bought amykrueger.net. I don't know what I'm going to do with it... probably just write you a bunch of notes and try to put memories of you and I up there and stuff. I really don't know. I just miss you, and it seems to get worse every day. The other night when I was at my friend's house, I had a nightmare. Sometimes I can't sleep. Other times I sleep too much. Sometimes I feel like I should have gotten in that coffin with you and died right then. With all this fear for my life, I finally realized that if whoever it is got me, it wouldn't be so bad... I'd be with you. I could see you again and hold you, play with your hair, feel your breath, kiss your lips, and tell you, face-to-face, how much I miss you and how much you mean to me. I know that I can't take all the blame for this, but I do take a lot of it. I didn't mean to break your heart. I was trying to do what was best. I never had anything but the best intentions. I just wish you had given me the chance to realize how much you meant to me. Ever since you went away, I felt powerless to do anything. With the new website, I'm feeling a little bit empowered, like my voice and feelings will now be heard. I feel like I understand that your parents and brother are going through an unbelievable amount of pain right now, but I doubt they give me much credit for the pain I'm going through. Your mom gave me copies of a few notes the other day. I don't know how to respond because it seems like she doesn't know where I am at in all this. She has all the notes you gave me, and even the last note that you wrote me on that folder. I know that it shouldn't mean anything to me, but it is so important to me to know that you don't hold me responsible for pushing you over the edge. I know that I am the one who did, but I want to know, to see it with my own eyes, that you don't hate me for that. Nonetheless, I've messed up school so badly that I have to drop out. I missed so much that the catch-up work was too much, and with my sleep schedule not cooperating, I just haven't been able to do it all. I just want to talk to you so much and want to see you. I know that is impossible, but I want to. I try to. I just cry a lot. No one understands what is going on inside of me. No one knows how many pieces my heart is shattered into. I'm just standing here looking at the pieces with no will, nothing inside me wanting to pick them up and try putting them back together. Everyone keeps telling me to quit looking so sad. I smile and say okay, but I know I won't. I am sad. I just want to know how you were feeling when you did this and I want to take that hurt away. I want to take away the hurt that I caused you, and the hurt that your family caused you, and Mishke, and Brett, and Craig, and me... and me... and me. I wish I could just take away the hurt I caused you. If that were possible, I know you would still be here. People say, "If it wasn't now, it would have been some other time." Bullshit. When I broke up with you, you asked "What about the work that I am doing with your mom?" You wanted to talk to my mom about God, and I know that God would have healed you. My mom would have held you. At your funeral you should have seen her. She was hugging everyone she could get her hands on... trying to be the universal mom... and she was. She would have been your mommy. She would have held you and helped you heal. She told you her story about God and suicide and how much she changed. Her story touched you, and she would have made a big difference in your life. But instead, she made a difference at your viewing.

Thursday, April 8, 2004

Dear Amy, Only two days until your birthday and I don't know what to do. It seems like it was only yesterday when we were at your house for my birthday, eagerly awaiting the arrival of your parents for my birthday. I was so nervous having them come over to your house and watch us interact. I'd just had my hair cut and you liked it but thought it made me look too young. We had a few pictures taken... some of just a few taken of us together. That makes me sad. I wish we had a load of them so I could remember more. I guess that is why I'm trying to write so much. I don't want to forget a single thing about you. I want your memory to stay so fresh in my mind that I feel like you're still here. After your parents came over, we flew to Cleveland and had dinner on the west bank. That was fun. We laughed a lot and had a good time. But there was something else special about that night; that was the first time you told me you loved me. You wrote it in my birthday card and were so nervous as I read it. We lay, ever so cramped, on that twin mattress laying on the floor looking at each other after that. I could never have known how scared that made you. Then I told you that I loved you too. That was the simplest, most beautiful, and most wonderful birthday gift I've ever received; your heart. I wish I had the opportunity to give you a birthday gift. But I can't. I'm here alone in Cleveland without so much as the comfort of a phone call to tell you that I still love you, and that I love you more than ever. What am I going to do? What am I going to do on Saturday? What am I going to do next week? Next month? Next everything? Every day I cry, sometimes uncontrollably, especially when I try to write you like this. I don't know who to call or talk to. I feel like no one understands my hurt and how much I miss you. I think I'm going to call your mom tomorrow. I don't know why, but I think I will. Maybe I'll hand-deliver that card I wrote her. In the meantime, I'll go back to that same mattress... in the same room... and cry again for the same reason. I miss you.

Friday, April 9, 2004

Dear Amy, I have yet to go one full day without crying. My life has been so meaningless without you here. I have tried so hard to stick with school and to continue my life as I have been, but I am unable. It's amazing how hard I tried to do everything perfect, just for you. Now that you're gone, I don't care anymore. Nothing seems worthwhile. I was going to school to make our future a better, brighter place. I could have gone to the airlines anytime, but I didn't want us to have to settle for that. But all you really wanted was to start a family of your own, a family of our own. Who is to say that that would never have happened? We'll never know. Since you took all your notes from my desk when you came over, I've lost almost everything that I had of you. I have four pictures, one you gave me and three I stole from your house; one digital picture I took of us; one picture from Dave; and the only note I've got from you is the lyrics to a song off the Sarah McLachlan album I bought you. I know that was the CD that was playing in your truck when you died, and that makes this all even harder for me to handle. Aside from the precious few items I have left of our nine months, I've got this gaping hole in my soul that you left. Tomorrow is the day that I was supposed to prove to you how much I love and care about you. Perhaps it was going to be the day that... anything. Anything could have happened on this, your 30th birthday, but all that I can guarantee is that there will be much crying and intolerable sadness. I miss you baby. I want to hear you call me "buddy" again. I need those notes that you gave me. I have nothing but memories. "Push" by Sarah McLachlan Every time I look at you the world just melts away All my troubles, all my fears dissolve in your affections You've seen me at my weakest, yet you take me as I am And when I fall you offer me a softer place to land You stay the course, you hold the line, you keep it all together You're the one true thing I know I can believe in You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you complete me You're the one true thing I know I can believe in I get mad so easy, but you give me space to breathe No matter what I say or do cause you're too good to fight about it Even when I have to push just to see how far you'll go You won't stoop down to battle me, you never turn to go Love is just the antidote, nothing else can cure me There are times I cant decide, when I can't tell up from down You make me feel less crazy, otherwise I'd drown But you pick me up and brush me off and tell me I'm okay And sometimes that's just what we need to get us through the day

Saturday, April 10, 2004

My Dear Aim, Today has to be the loneliest day yet. It has been 37 days since I left you and 35 days since you left me. Amy, I just want you to know that I love you. I told you I loved you on Thursday, yet I broke up with you that night. You didn't get it. You talked to Erika and were confused that I could say that I love you and break up with you on the same day, but you didn't understand that true love isn't confined to... I'm tired of writing this to you. You're dead. You'll never see this. You'll never see what you've done to me. You'll never know what we could have been. You'll never know. I'll never know. You took control of your destiny and gave yourself no chance to continue living. There are two things that every human being has in common; birth and death. The one difference between all humans is how we are going to leave. It could be old age, car crashes, cancer, drowning, terrorism, who knows? You took the guess-work out of it and served your own departure. How am I going to die? It doesn't matter. What matters is how I live. I guess that means that it doesn't matter how you died, but how you lived. I just want to remember your life. I want to remember the nine months that I had with you, but I also want to know everything about the other 29 years. I want to remember you forever. I want to dream about you every night. I want to love you forever. But I want this hurt to go away. I miss you. Happy birthday.

Tuesday, April 13, 2004

When I Look To The Sky by Train When it rains it pours and opens doors And floods the floors we thought would always keep us safe and dry And in the midst of sailing ships we sink our lips into the ones we love That have to say goodbye And as I float along this ocean I can feel you like a notion that won’t seem to let me go Cause when I look to the sky something tells me you’re here with me And you make everything alright And when I feel like I’m lost something tells me you’re here with me And I can always find my way when you are here And every word I didn’t say that caught up in some busy day And every dance on the kitchen floor we didn’t dance before And every sunset that we’ll miss I’ll wrap them all up in a kiss And pick you up in all of this when I sail away Whether I am up or down or in or out or just plane overhead Instead it just feels like it is impossible to fly But with you I can spread my wings to see me over everything that life may send me When I am hoping it won’t pass me by And when I feel like there is no one that will ever know me there you are to show me

Dear Amy~ I found some more pictures of you and I. I am so happy that we had a few more pictures than I thought. There are just so many regrets I have about this whole thing. I keep having this nagging feeling that you didn't intend to die, that perhaps you intended to get caught by someone... particularly me. I've also been dreaming about you quite a bit, whether it is a pleasant one where I wake up thinking you're still here or a bad one where I can see you as you close the door to your car and run through the notes one more time, kiss Katie's picture, and start the engine as Sarah McLaughlin plays on the CD player, I end up sad. That Monday, when I went to see you when they were getting you ready for the viewing, this song by Train came on the radio and I started crying. I hope you are here with me. I hope you can see me. I hope I can see you someday. My life is falling apart in front of me, and I never wanted it to be like this.

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

Dear Amy, I talked to your mom tonight. I called your parent's house to apologize to your dad for putting the company in jeopardy with my medical issue, but your mom answered and I never even got around to it. We just talked a lot about you. We talked a whole lot about you. Damn that was good to talk to her. She got the flowers that I sent for your birthday. That was weird because I had forgotten sending them until she mentioned it. I have been so screwed up these past few days that I hadn't even remembered that I sent flowers for your birthday. I can see that your mom is having a hard time with all of this, and that I am simply one of the many, many places that easily holds the blame that is to be had for this. It blows my mind how quickly things changed for you that day and how it seems... so strangely... that you didn't intend to do this. I will contemplate the thought only quickly enough to mention that I fear that you intended to get caught and didn't mean to put an end to your life. I couldn't live with myself if I found that to be true, especially if you counted on me finding and stopping you. Today hasn't been a very good day. They say that there will be good days and there will be bad days... and this has been a bad day. I went to Grace College to play basketball with my buddies like I used to before school started, and right away they could tell something was wrong. I shrugged it all off until it was over, when Steve, a big and rough guy pulled me aside, asked what was wrong and told me that I looked like my best friend died. I told him, "She did." I found myself sobbing into the soaking-wet shoulder of this guy as he held me. What have you done? Why did you do this? I know that you could have had no idea how deeply you would hurt so many people. You had no idea how much we loved you, and how we would have done anything, absolutely anything, to help you through this. Your mom misses you so bad, Katie remembers you so well, and I can't wait to take my last breath so I can finally see you again.

Friday, April 16, 2004

Dear Amy, I have tried to bring myself to write something--anything--to you, a poem, a song, a thought, but they all come out so dark that I don't want to acknowledge that I wrote it. A few days ago, I realized that I was starting to remember you as still-frames, pictures, and snapshots. Movement has stopped. I have to consciously think about how you moved--a smile breaking out, the little dance you did at the kitchen sink or in front of the open fridge, the way you caressed my face when we kissed. Damn, I miss you kissing me. I miss your little hands. I miss the way you loved me. All your ticks and anomalies that made you so damn cute. The thing that made it so cute was that you were trying to be normal, but the real you shone through at all times. I feel like all that time I spent at the kitchen table doing my homework while you cooked, cleaned, watched TV, showered, took a bath, read in bed, was such a waste of time. I should have been with you, spending every waking moment I could with you. I had it right when we first met. I don't think that in the first week we knew each other that we spent more than 6 hours apart, aside from work. Two weeks ago, the weather here was really crappy, and I know that if you were still here, you would have told me to call you as soon as I got on the ground. That bothered me at the time. I didn't like you worrying about me, but at least I knew you cared... that's what you'd always say, that you couldn't help it since you cared. Today when I was opening the hangar, I looked up in the sky and, of course, thought of that song by Train, and realized that no matter where I went, you would never "bother" me again with your worrying. As I sit here and write these thoughts, the thought of you comforting me for the last time on Thursday when I was so sad and ashamed keeps running through my mind. You came over and sat on my lap and ran your fingers through my hair and pulled my head to your chest and let me cry. I need you now. Right now. I never needed you more. All this time you needed me, I tried to be too cool to need you, but I'm broken. I don't know how to fix this. I just keep crying, hoping. I try to put on a cool facade when people ask me how I'm doing, but only you would know how I really am. I'm alone in this room and no one knows how swollen my face is, how tear-soaked my cheeks are, and how I cry so hard sometimes that I have to type without seeing what I'm writing. But you. You might. I still haven't seen the damn note you left me on my folder, but Robin says that you wrote that you'd be watching me. Then you're the only one who sees me in this condition. I know a whole bunch of anonymous people are seeing your website from Flightinfo, but no one who knows you or me sees it, and this is the only thing that I know to do. You, this ideal of my girlfriend sitting next to me and reading over my shoulder, are the only therapy I have for this, the hardest, lowest, saddest, and most depressing time of my life. On one hand, I want you to be able to see me. But on the other, I am ashamed of what I, or some other people say. Perhaps you have perfect understanding of me now. Maybe Jesus gave you this gift of understanding that I have to move on... someday. I don't feel like I'll ever be able to move on, but I'm going to try... someday. Right now, it's just you and me. It'll be just you and me for quite some time. Some day, though... some day, I'll meet another girl who will be just like you... if I'm lucky. I was so fortunate to have had you for the short nine months that I did, yet I had no idea how sad and broken you were. Now I'm sad and broken. Some day, Amy, comfort me. Tell me it's okay. Sit in my lap again and hold my head to your chest and let me cry. You would have been the best damn mother ever, and if I was lucky, I would have spent the rest of my life trying to be as good of a husband as I could be to you. I don't want to go on. I want to go back. I want to be with you. I want to show you love again. I want you to cry again when you tell your relatives that you're in love with me. I want you to sit down with your parents and talk of your future plans with them again. When this all first happened, my first concern was your parents, then your brother, then Robin, and Katie. Then I was ashamed that I was such an emotional wreck. Then Dave and Jen came along... and Erika, I had to break the news to Erika. I almost puked. But I was so ashamed. I don't know why I was ashamed. I wanted to hide my tears, and make like I was okay. I told myself I was okay. I wasn't going to let this get me down. But traces of your love for me, and my love for you, run deep throughout my life, and I could not avoid this. Now I wear our love on my sleeve because I'm proud. I'm proud to have had such a wonderful, sensitive, sweet, caring, loving, beautiful woman by my side... on my side... in my life. You were a Godsend. I just wish I could have kept you here with me. I wish that I could have held you when you really, really needed it, when you needed to know that someone cared, even if just as your best friend, I could have taken that hurt and pain away. I could have helped you through your darkest hour.

Friday, April 30, 2004

Dear Amy,

These past few days have been particularly tough for me. I don't know why, but last night I stayed up most of the night crying. I mean, I know why I'm crying, I just don't know why last night. Then again, it has been tonight too. I keep wanting to call Dave and Jen, or Erika, but what do I say? Sure, they know I miss you, but how do I convey how much this is hurting to be apart from you? Tonight I have been particularly constructive, working a bit on your website, trying to distract myself. I love doing this tribute to you. It helps me remember how wonderful you are. Sometimes I just get too caught up in the sadness of it all and really need a fix, and knowing that this will help other people understand that our relationship was a good one, even though it ultimately ended so horrifically, helps me get through just one more day. That's all I can do right now, one day at a time. Sometimes I look too far into the future and get dizzy trying to focus on the possibilities without you, because it just doesn't work. I was so frustrated with myself, and with you, that I ended our relationship, but that isn't permanent. Nothing in life is permanent except death. You took away any possibility of fixing ourselves, our relationship, our lives, our problems, or our pain. Jen says that she finds comfort in the fact that you are no longer experiencing pain. I say damn that... life is all about pain, and happiness, and sadness, and joy, and pleasure, and so much more. I know that we experienced all that in our short lives together, and I wanted more. You could have handled this. You could have held on. Wasn't it worth it? Didn't you want to see if I wasn't as strong as I thought I was? Didn't you want to see me beg you to take me back? You know I would have. You're the best I've ever had. I had so much to learn, and you had so much to teach. I've heard time and time again that I can't be so naive, but I have so much to learn, and I'm learning.

Tuesday, May 4, 2004

Dear Amy,

I miss you. I don't know how much more I can handle being apart from you. Every day, I think that. I suppose every day, I just have to go one more day without you. Pretty soon it will be our anniversary, and I'll start this over. I'll live one more day, over and over, until I die. Then I won't have to do without you. I want to give everyone out there credit for their pain and heartache, but I hurt, I grieve, I cry, I ache, I miss, I long, I question, I dream, I fantasize--about and for my Amy. I am not doing well without you. I was made for you. You were made for me. Everywhere I go, everything I do--I remember us, I remember you. I remember how much you loved your dog, breakfast, desert, Sting... I remember sitting in the computer lab at IUSB doing your taxes and you writing me that e-mail, turning and watching me as I worked, kissing me on my cheek, and adoring me for helping you with that. It was such a small thing for me to do, but you appreciated it immensely. I appreciated you for appreciating me. You were so elated that you were going to get some money back... a lot of money. You paid me in love, and for that I would be your slave for 1000 years. It was a rare opportunity for me to repay you just a little of the immeasurable gifts you gave me. I just wish you didn't handle this one situation like this. We had so much to go through yet. So many years, so many kisses, so many nights, so many gray hairs and wrinkles. I love you, and I know that you knew and felt that. It is one of the few comforts I have at night when I ball up with the pillow that took your place under my arm as I shiver in that cold, lonesome bed. Sometimes I can't sleep, and I live the tormenting agony of sleepless nights. Please forgive me for messing up such a beautiful thing. Please forgive me for letting you down. Please forgive me for breaking your heart. Please forgive me for not being there for you. Please forgive me for every beat my heart makes without you. One day, it will give up this battle that I am bound to lose, and that day will be the sweetest day. Until then, I pray that you will find comfort in the arms of the man I was trying so hard to emulate, Jesus'. Until then, I'll be missing you.

P.S. I found these doodles in your notebook. I did the same thing... but you would have been the second "Amy Fussle" in the family. My cousin beat us to it.

Wednesday, May 5, 2004

Dear Amy,

I don't think I still know, deep down inside, that you're gone. Once again, I found myself trying to talk to one of my professors about you and me, and I'd forget I was talking and would wander off on strange tangents that didn't make sense. I told her that I was writing these letters to you, which she said was good. She said that one day I would have to let you go. I don't know, Aim. I don't think I'll ever let you go. I want to grieve and work through this pain, guilt, anger, frustration, sadness, and loneliness so that I don't find myself haunted one day--but I don't want to ever let you go. You can stay right here in my heart for as long as you want, or as long as I want. I'm supposed to be doing the take-home final for the one class that I was talked out of withdrawing from, Ethics. My mind is playing little reruns of when I saw you on Friday over here at my place. I was sitting here, in this exact same spot, writing you a letter, trying to explain what I was thinking and feeling, and failing miserably. I saw you pull up in your truck, walk up the walkway toward the door, and disappear from sight. Seconds later, Montana ran in, licking (always licking) and jumping up on my lap. You walked in with swollen, red, and sad eyes. We talked, but I could not look at you. You started crying and kneeled down at my feet, leaning into my lap and looking into my eyes, begging me not to quit this... us. You were so persistent about looking into my eyes. You said you weren't going to let me go, I didn't let you go when you were so far down, and now it was your turn to hold me until I felt better. You said you were going to be there, like I had been for you. I genuinely felt like it was the right thing to do. I didn't know what to say, I love you, but I felt like I had to let you go. Finally you said that you wouldn't go unless I looked you in the eyes and told you to go. I couldn't muster the courage to look you in the eyes, but I managed to tell you, "I would like it if you left." And with your eyes full of tears, you did. I didn't like it. If there is one sentence in all my life that I could take back, that would be it. I'll live the rest of my life wishing that I hadn't said those seven words. My pride wouldn't let me let you stay.

Thursday, May 6, 2004

I have been second guessing myself ever since this happened. I'm starting to realize that you were right, I have been a perfectionist, but I've been a lot more than that. I have been prideful and selfish, and although I wanted to be with you, I felt like I had so far to go before becoming the man that you deserved or that I wanted to be. There is so much that I have learned from this

When I broke up with you, I had worked myself into frustration on four points; family, religion, trust, and jealousy. I've found out that the first two were interconnected and not as horrific as I originally thought. You were more than willing to come to church with me, although eventually you wanted to find a church for us--you and me. You liked church, in fact, said it was like a rock-concert and that Denny preached about things you found relevant. You were raised in the Catholic church and I simply didn't understand what that meant. I never really got into religion and just didn't know. All I wanted was for you to believe the same things I did, and this was part of the reason I broke up with you; I hadn't behaved like I know I should and I wanted to. I just was too proud to make that change in front of you, believing it would be less embarrassing if we were apart. Nonetheless, the way we were raised, Christian or Catholic, was not that different. Dave, Jen, and I sat there at Hacienda the night of your viewing and talked about all this, and I was amazed at how comfortable I felt about it all. We even went to the chapel at Notre Dame the next day. All this to say, the "problem" of religion wasn't insurmountable.

I never understood why you didn't come to Warsaw, though. It just didn't make sense to me and it frustrated me to no extent. I thought that you were trying to pull me away from my family, on the contrary. You were trying to fit into it. Here is where the guilt comes in. I didn't do a good enough job of making you feel welcome and comfortable with them. Where I would just sit and talk to anyone who would listen, you stood or sat where I left you and waited for me to come back and get you. I was oblivious. I was off goofing around with who-knows-what while you were a ball of nerves. You put so much pressure on yourself to make a perfect impression and have everything run flawlessly with my family. It wasn't going to be like that. My parents love you, but it drove you up the wall that I didn't have a plan for the day (and when I did, you interpreted it as excluding you). Oh Amy, I was so stupid. I had no idea. It would have been so easy for me to tell you to stick by my side, that you were my girlfriend and I was proud of you. I don't think I ever said I was proud of you. I was. I am. You are such a beautiful girl. After coming a few times, you made excuse after excuse to avoid coming to Warsaw, and after a while, out of frustration, I quit inviting you. You knew you were welcome, but I was tired of being turned down. Then you started asking if you could come, you knew how important it was to me. I was excited, but I'd always "abandon" you, and that scared you or bothered you in some way (I still don't quite understand). I just remember the last weekend we had together, I asked you to come to Warsaw, and we planned on it all week. As the weekend passed, you became less and less enthusiastic (I hardly noticed), until it came to a head Sunday morning. We were getting ready to walk out the door when you stopped in the kitchen like there was something wrong. I asked what was up and you started to cry, apologizing and saying you couldn't do it, you felt sick. I thought you were, or you were just being emotional. I didn't know how much courage it took you ever week to step so far outside your comfort zone and follow me into my huge, "perfect", close, and proper family. We're just people, and because we all sit down to eat, hug a lot, and whatever else it is that makes our family different from a typical family, it doesn't mean that we're judgmental. My family, all of them, love you. They came out en masse for your viewing. Amy, everyone who ever even talked to you loved you.

The last two are more tricky. You already had plenty of reason to never trust another man, but you trusted me. The problem was when you found the note that girl gave me telling me she had a crush on me. I'll admit that I did nothing to stifle her feelings because I didn't want to be a jerk or confrontational, but she'd given me several notes like that and I never even acknowledged them, just stuffed them into my backpack. I didn't think anything of it and thought there was no action that was needed... she'd just get the picture. Now I realize that my silence wasn't fair to you, me, or even to her. It would have been better for all of us if I had said that I was flattered, but that I have a wonderful woman in my life. I didn't, and I was wrong. So you started to wonder if there was reason that I was not trustworthy. That was the biggest blow to my ego, psyche, and heart. I AM trustworthy. If I am nothing else, trustworthy is what I am, but because I didn't take this head-on, I didn't behave like that, and you started wondering. That is where we had come in our relationship, that you HAD TO trust me. I may not be very smart, but I would never do anything to break your trust. So I made it a condition and even mentioned it in the "breakup note." In the worst case, I would have had to earn your trust.

As for jealousy, I guess I was just going to have to get used to it. You offered that you knew you were a little too jealous, and that you would tone it down. You conceded everything to make it work. You lived outside your comfort zone to make it work with me. I wanted you to give me a list, if only four things, that you needed from me too. I don't know. I don't know what would have made this turn out better. All I know is that I made unreasonable demands of you and you accepted them. Now I dream of having to make concessions to win you back. I would do anything to win you back.

Saturday, May 8, 2004

Dearest Aim,

Last night was another one of those nights. I prayed. I've prayed a lot since you've died. One of the first things I wrote here was the lyrics to the song, "The Reason." In it, there is a line, "I'm not a perfect person, I never meant to do those things to you. And so I have to say before I go that I just want you to know, I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be. A reason to start over new, and the reason is you." God has a funny sense of timing because that song came out only days after you died. But my point is that the lyrics to that song contain my exact reasoning. I don't ever want to hurt anyone again like I hurt you, so I need to get things straight with God if I'm ever going to do it. I also want to be the man that I have tried so hard to become so that if I ever meet another woman who is anything like you, I'll be ready. I sure wish you were here, but I just have to look forward to seeing you again. My heart aches so badly for you, to be by your side again.

Thursday, May 14, 2004
12:55am

Amy,

The last two nights, I haven't been able to sleep. I've just sat up here in Cleveland thinking, writing, and thinking. I can't explain what has happened to me since you've gone, but people are not around. They've left. I told my mom about that and she's trying to overcompensate for the withdraw of my friends from my life.

I talked to Jen earlier. She always makes things better. I guess Dave is having a really hard time. I can't imagine what he's going through, but at least he doesn't have your death sitting in his lap. In all reality, I can't imagine how he's doing. I can't imagine how anyone's doing. We all just miss you. I miss you. My parents are eager for me to get over you. Someday.

Friday, May 15, 2004
2:20am

Dear Amy,

Three nights in a row without sleep. It's not that I can't sleep, it's that I don't. I need to talk to someone about you, about this. I keep talking a little to this person and that person, but never everything to one. i was talking to a friend who printed this page out and it came to a total of 15 pages. Imagine that. Fifteen pages of "I love you"s. Fifteen pages of "I need you"s. Fifteen pages of tears and regrets. Fifteen pages with that lump in my throat and tears all over the place.

Every Jeep Cherokee I see, I check to see if it's yours by the Boreal sticker on the back. Today, I finally had it. Your Jeep, your truck, was at the airport when I showed up for work today. It was parked right by the front door, so I couldn't miss it. I walked around it, looking in the windows for traces of you... a hair, a smudge of makeup, dirt, Montana hair, little handprints, even dust. So many memories are in that truck, and it's sitting at the front door. Thoughts of taking Montana to the park, drives to Warsaw, stolen kisses, using your little hands inside oversized gloves to dust the dashboard as we waited at a stoplight, little fingers dancing on the volume control buttons on the back side of the steering wheel while you talked, and... yes, your last thoughts, last breath, last tears, last...

Saturday, May 16, 2004
12:12am

A-Lo,

Today, I returned to my old high school to see my old principal, Mr. Frank, and guidance counselor, Ms. Angle. I knew that Mr. Frank was a good person to see because he has been such a good influence in my life and if anyone has had to deal with tragedy, he's the one. My senior year, his son died and his wife was diagnosed with cancer. We didn't talk a whole lot, he had to get going, but he brought forward an interesting point. He asked if I was as scared of dying now as I was before you died. Without hesitation, "No." The same thing happened to him when his son died. It's not that I want to die, but I'm not scared like I used to be. I can't wait to see you again.

Monday, May 24, 2004
11:28pm

Dear Amy,

I know it's been a while since I've written, but I've been distracted. The website is going great. I was thinking about what you would think about it if you were still here. I know you would hate to be the center of attention like this, but I just don't know what else to do. From the things that I've seen, heard, and felt--you left a lot of people wondering why you let things go so far. So many people wanted to be there for you. I was talking to Dave the other day about trying to deal with this emptiness you've left us with. I just miss you so bad. I still cry all the time. I spend a lot of time alone. This last weekend, I tried calling Justin, and his life is going so well, I don't blame him for not wanting to step out of his sunshine into my dark and rainy world. I try not to act like there is anything wrong, but it's just not so easy to smile or laugh anymore. I think about you all the time. I think about you all the time. I think about you always. I'm always thinking of you. I can't stop thinking about you. You get my point? You left me here, blaming myself, looking at the hands that everyone says broke your heart, and they did. In a court of law, that's second-degree manslaughter. I feel like I killed my best friend with my words, my heart. I'm cracking up here.

I took my checkride with the FAA the other day, on Wednesday, and we got to talking about things that have happened in the past six months (I take that checkride twice a year). Invariably, the conversation turned to you and I was very honest with him. I've known this guy for nearly two years now, so it wasn't like I was spilling to a complete stranger. I tried not to cry, and I succeeded for the most part, but my eyes watered up as I talked about you. I told him that I get sad like I am right now, and I feel like no one knows what I'm feeling. He just said that he knows. Maybe he does.

I've started wearing cloths that I haven't worn since last summer, and I've found two of your hairs. I don't know what to do with them, but I just hold it and run it between my fingers, trying to remember what it was like to caress your face, play with your hair, and I would give anything for it to get in the way of our kisses again. I just miss you so much and can't stop crying. I'm gonna go. Jen just sent me some pictures. I love you.

Wednesday, May 26, 2004
12:51am

To My Girlfriend,

I've spent the last few hours trying to figure out how I'm going to get on without you. I've been laying here in bed wondering how it's going to feel never having you laying next to me when I wake up, never opening my eyes to catch you--laying on my pillow and crowding me out--memorizing my face. I wonder how it's going to feel never having your little hand run through my chest hair or caressing my cheek as we kiss. I wonder how it's going to feel never having that feeling that I'm coming home from work to a note on my door, in my car, on my desk, or in your mailbox telling me how much you love me and how much I mean to you. I wonder how it's going to feel never really being able to smile again, to laugh again, to be happy again. I wonder how it's going to feel never holding you in my arms, never taking out your trash again, never having your name pop up on my caller ID, never hearing you tell me you love me, never having you sit on my lap, never telling me that you're proud of me, never telling me you'll see me later, and never telling me you're sorry you broke my heart. Sometimes I cry so loud that I think people hear me. Even if they don't, when they see me, they know I've been crying. But even if they don't, they know my heart is broken.

I can't even see to write anymore. My head is pounding and my heart is killing me. I need you. I've never been so addicted in my life, and I'm suffering from the worst case of withdraw. My eyes are burning, my head feels squeezed, my nose stuffed, and my skin is crawling. Songs, pictures, flowers, Jeeps, dogs, babies, white teeth, small hands, giggles, ice cream, fresh laundry, perfumes, showers, my whiskers, sunshine, school, all my cloths, boats, swimming pools, grills, hammocks... remind me--of you. Always of you. Everything of you. These memories will never die until I do, and for that I am cursed... and for that I am blessed.

You have left me scared like a veteran of war; unable to sleep, always crying, forever changed, sad... very sad. I will never forget you.

Friday, May 28, 2004
4:36am

Dear Aim,

I can't sleep. It's been a while since I've been able to sleep. I just think about you, remember, and cry. I miss you so much, and I just can't believe you're gone. I love you so much, and I feel like I failed you so badly by not making that so apparent to you that you would have had the opportunity to see me grovel, begging you to take me back. I've been so lonely since you left me. I've been so sad. I spend all my time thinking about you, talking about you, dreaming about you, and trying to get over you. As long as I live, I'm afraid, I will never be over you. I love you, and I can't stop. I want to. I want to be mad at you, let anger set in, but why? Because you felt abandon, alone, sad, and crazy? That was my fault. I'm mad at myself for doing this to you. I'm ashamed. I'm sorry. I miss you.

Thursday, June 3, 2004
3:19am

Baby,

I have done so well. I've kept my head down, eyes focused on my feet as I take each step, slowly and carefully, since you've died. Everything requires effort where, before, it was a joy. Days are not easy, and nights are so unkind. I've been more angry at God since you've died than I have my whole life. I hate the fact that I felt (and still feel) the need to be closer to this vague concept of what that is, and now I have nothing but silence. This is stupid.

Tuesday, June 8, 2004
8:01pm

Again, today was not an easy day. I got very little sleep last night. For some reason I decided to drive by your house at 5:00am and it was like a flashback. All the little houses, the trees, the parked cars... I expected to see your Jeep in the drive as the house came into view. I thought back to all the times I took for granted that left turn I made so many times into your life. I came and went as I pleased and took it all for granted, especially the coming-home part. I came home so many times, you on my mind, butterflies in my stomach, and love in my heart. I'm sorry I took for granted the paradise that was my life with you. I'm sorry I took for granted the love that was your gift. I'm sorry I took for granted the steps that you took for me, like coaxing a toddler from her grip on the sofa with outstretched arms only to walk away as she stumbles across the floor, expecting me to catch her fall. I will never forgive myself for hurting you. I will never forgive myself for walking away. I will never be over you.

My grandmother is a jerk with no heart. She can judge you and me both from that perch on her greased pole. If you don't get into heaven, nobody will. In fact, if people like that are the ones who do get into heaven, I don't want to go and be stuck in their company for eternity. Amy, I know you said you'd always be watching me, but I wonder if you really are. I know that for the rest of time, I will be watching you in my mind's eye, replaying frame-by-frame of the nine months I was given with you. Baby, I miss you. I miss you so damn much, I can't put it into words, and every time I get to this point in these letters, I give up. I can't picture this life without you. You deserved so much more than you got. You deserved the man that I dreamed of being. You deserved a 70th birthday party and a 40th anniversary. You deserved, if anyone deserved, true love.

I need to quit this. I've got to pull myself together before landing here. Yeah, I keep this seat next to me open... just in case you are watching me and just feel like coming along to Cleveland. I pretend you are here and can see me. I'm trying so hard to become the man that you deserve. I love you. I need you. I need to pretend you can see me. I will make you proud, and when that day comes that we'll see each other again, I hope I hope I'm one of the first, because I'm going to need a lot of time alone with you; holding you, touching you, kissing you, talking with you, and making up to you. Do what you can for me, Aim. I need it, because life here without you isn't easy. So if you ever see you-know-who up there, tell him that there's a guy down here trying to keep his shit together and not doing a very good job without you, my angel, to watch me, take care of me, and encourage me. Tell him I need him to heal this broken and dying heart of mine. It's not broken because of what you did to me, but because of what I did to you. I'm sorry. I hope you can see me, see this, and know that I love you more than I ever have. I didn't deserve you and tell him I said "thank you" for those precious moments I was given. I have to go. I love you.

Friday, June 11, 2004
11:31pm

When does this end? When will enough be enough? I could write on and on... perhaps for years, but if I don't quit this, I will never quit. Now is not the time, but it is close. I know that Amy would be ashamed and embarrassed about all the fuss that everyone's made over her.

I spent a good bit of the day over at Mr. and Mrs. Krueger's and, good as it was, it made Amy's absence all too obvious. They were having a garage sale which contained a good bit of Amy's stuff. As I walked past table after table of her things, memories came flooding back and I just cried. It has been a long time since I've felt this loneliness. I have a strange smell on my skin and a taste in my mouth that reminds me of Amy. I am grasping for words right now, but I just feel like she was just here, by my side. I miss her so much, and I can't stop saying that. She just isn't supposed to be gone. I thought for sure that after today I'd have so much to write, but I can't. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to think.

Tomorrow, once again, I don the uniform that would make Amy shine. She'd have it all pressed and laid out, probably beg me to try it on just for her once tonight and then we'd jump into our pajamas and crawl into bed... I miss her like crazy. I've got to keep my wits about me. I am bigger than this. I will overcome, and I will live to see Amy again.

Saturday, July 25, 2004
10:58pm

Gee, I hope that I haven't made anyone uncomfortable with my forwardness about what I'm going through here. This website wasn't designed to offend or belittle anyone, but to have a permanent spot, a virtual grave, for this woman that I love. I go to her grave, although I come here more often. I talk to her, I cry, and I lay flowers. That doesn't mean that no one else has the right to lay flowers, cry, or talk! But if that's the way you feel, that's fine. I will stay off the discussion board and keep to my own little corner here. Besides, I'd rather not hear the mean things that Mrs. K has to say. I'm tired of being the reason that Amy is dead. I'm so sorry, and I won't pretend that I have the slightest clue how hard this is for anyone else--I just know it is hard. The thing that hurts me the most is that some people won't give me credit for the love that Aim and I shared, yet give me all the blame for what happened. If this is my fault, then at least leave me alone when I make note of our anniversary. This is just so frustrating. Mrs. K asked when I was going to quit writing in here, so I did. This isn't for her! This is for me! This is for Aim! It's not FOR anyone. I'm not doing this for show!

I just wish this wasn't even an issue. I wish Aim was here. I wish I could apologize, make it up to her, and have her back. This is just not fair, not to any of us. Nonetheless, I started this as a note to my girlfriend, and I will continue that. I love her, and say what you will, take what you will, burn what you will... you can not take that away from me. Give me your guilt, your blame, your anger, frustration, hate, and lies--if that is my contribution to your grieving, I'll take it.

Friday, August 27, 2004
03:49am

I'm trying so hard to handle this properly, for my sake and the sake of everyone that is in, or will be in, my life. I want Aim to watch me, as she said she would, and I want her to be proud. I'm doing like she said; I'm going back to school. I think she understands me now. I hope someone explained everything to her so that she can watch me and understand why I do what I do. I hope she understands that I wish I could go back and change things. I hope she can see how much I miss her and how much I love her. I hope she forgives me for not saying yes when I should have, or no when I should have. There is one strong point of comfort thought. Although I wish that I had done it more, she always told me that she'd never been hugged and kissed so much before, nor had she been told how much she was loved. I think sometimes she had a hard time telling herself that she deserved that. Maybe that's what Mrs. K's post was about when she made that comment about wishing I'd not told her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me for nine months. I just miss her so much. I miss my best friend, I miss my lover, I miss my soul-mate; I miss my buddy. I remember the first time she called me "Buddy." I thought it was the kiss of death on the relationship I was hoping for. But in fact, it was the kiss of life to the best relationship I've ever had.

Monday, October 11, 2004
08:11pm

Girl you are rich even with nothing. You know tenderness comes from pain. It's amazing how you love, and love is kind and love can give and get no gain. It's down a rugged road you've come. Though you had every reason you didn't come undone, somehow you made it to the other side... you didn't suffer in vain. You forgive those who have trespassed against you and you know tenderness comes from pain. It's amazing how you love, and love is kind and love can give and love needs no gain. It's down a rugged road you've come, though you had every reason you didn't come undone. Somehow you made it to the other side... you didn't suffer in vain. You didn't suffer in vain. You know it's only love that gets you through. Only love that gets you through.

-Sade

Wednesday, November 03, 2004
07:31pm

Dear Amy,

It has been so long since I've written you. I don't know what it is. I miss you so much. So much. You have some of the best friends in the world. They've been so good to me. I feel like I don't deserve it sometimes. I feel like I should be shunned and exiled for letting them down... for letting you down. I don't want to cry. I don't feel like crying. I feel good, and that makes me feel bad sometimes. I feel so much love for you. I know you're gone, but I feel like I love you now more than ever. Even those things that frustrated me so badly when we were together are loveable quirks now. I love you, the woman you were, and the woman you were becoming. I'm sorry I hurt you, and most of all, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me most.

Tuesday, November 23, 2004
07:31pm

Dear Amy,

I talked to your mom today. She's come so far. She finally found the note you wrote me inside the folder and read it to me again. When I heard that, I just started crying. All this time I couldn't understand why some people said there was a note while others said there wasn't. It played games on my head so badly. She also said she'd been reading our notes and she just kept seeing you referring to all your "problems." She said it wasn't just my fault... it was all our faults. We all failed you. I think that has to be one of the nicest things she's ever said. She's right, we all failed you. We failed to see through the facade you put up and hid so well behind. I'm buying a house. You'd have loved it. From the bottom of my heart, I miss you. I often wonder where God is in all this.

Tuesday, March 07, 2005
08:24am

Dear Amy,

Looks like I made it. One full year since I realized my life would never be the same. The day after you died, dad got me up for church and told me to come upstairs after I was all dressed and ready. I knew something was wrong, so I rushed up there. Then he told me. My life turned upside down. Now I miss you every day. It took me only a moment to realize I'd finally found you, a week to fall in love with you, and a lifetime to miss you. I will never forget you. This, I promise you.

Saturday, April 23, 2005
12:54am

Her hat is hanging by the door The one she bought in Mexico It blocked the wind, it stopped the rain She'd never leave that one So she can't be really gone The shoes she bought on Christmas Eve She laughed and said they called her name It's like they're waiting in the hall For her to slip them on So she can't be really gone I don't know when she'll come back She must intend to come back And I've seen the error of my ways Don't waste the tears on me What more proof do you need Just look around the room So much of her remains Her book is lying on the bed The two of hearts to mark her page Now who could ever walk away at chapter 29 So she can't be really gone Just look around this room So much of her remains Her book is lying on the bed The two of hearts to mark her page Now who could ever walk away with so much left undone So she can't be really gone No she can't be really gone Tim McGraw She's not, is she? I mean for God's sake, she's not supposed to be gone. We weren't done with her, were we? I wasn't. She turned 31 two weeks ago and I just laid there. I couldn't write her a card, a poem... nothing. I miss her so fucking much that I... I just don't know. This sucks! It fucking sucks! I just can't accept that she's gone, because I just can't convince myself that I won't see her tomorrow... or next month... year... or a hundred years from now. For a while there, I thought I was going to be okay, but this is FUCKED UP! LOOK AT WHAT SHE LEFT BEHIND! SHE GAVE UP! WHY? BECAUSE OF ME???? Fucking pathetic. The only consolation I find is that it is impossible that a woman like Amy would have pulled of some shit like that because of a piece of shit like me. I wish Chris' buddies had done their fucking job and popped me off like they were supposed to. Losers. It's funny how they backed down after I got the bulletproof vest and gun. They could have just got me in the head. Yeah, she's really gone. I can't prove it... don't know where her body is, but I know she would have come back around by now if she weren't gone. I remember she told me she loved me on my birthday. She wrote it in a card. It's gone. I had that card in a folder, and someone stole my fucking folder with everything I have from Amy. This is all I have left. This fucking pathetic website. 100% of what I have is here, minus the bloodshot eyes, crusty cheeks, and the feeling like my heart is dead, and when it beats once a month or so, it breaks. We would have gotten back together, right? I mean, I can't say I'm sorry now, I can't say I need her now. I can't ask her to come back now, because she's fucking gone! She told me she would "never leave my side". What the fuck is that? That's a fucking lie. She said she'd be there, that she'd hold me, and she'd be there... she'd be here. She's not here. I had no idea...

Saturday, July 16, 2005
12:08pm

I'm riding the train to Chicago from South Bend, on my way to the walk which I signed up for what must be a year ago. Maybe it was a year ago August. I don't know. I scanned a bunch of pictures that Mrs. Krueger loaned to me a few weeks ago, and with nothing to do on the three-hour ride, I have just been looking at them... thinking about Aim a lot. I'll tell you, I was doing a lot better before I had time to sit down and think about this. I can't believe how much I miss her, and I just can't seem to shake the pain. She sure was great.

I'm looking forward to meeting the other two in this thing... complete strangers, but we've got Amy, and if only everyone had her... we'd all be friends for life. I'm sure I'll write more after this. Maybe not.

Saturday, March 01, 2006
12:08pm

I'm