December 1997

Dear Cas.

I visited your grave again yesterday. Sammy came with me this time.

He's worried about me - I don't really blame him. After Bobby I got so much worse, even I can see that.

I quit my job, by the way. There's no point working there if I'm not working for him.

God, I wish you were here, Cas. But you aren't and it's my fault. Sorry, Sammy thinks I've got into a bit of a 'my fault' phase since Bobby.

He's probably right. Sammy usually is.

He says I should stop writing to you. He's probably right about that, too, but I'm not going to. I can't let go of you. I wont let go of you. I love you