To my gorgeous granddaughter, Grey, who is probably cracking lesbian jokes at my wife, isn't she, Jaquline?

Now, Jaquie, I beg of you, do not read this letter until the last paragraph. You'll see why after I'm dead. It's only then that you can read the whole letter.

So, Maddie, I'm going to tell you a story. It starts now:

Today it is November 31, 2012.

I know that it's really December 1st, but I loathe that day to such an extent that I've put a different name to the date of the day that I walked to her house, only to never find her again.

Well, it all began when we were in college. I'd always been an insomniac, but Ma always blamed it on "all those damn books you read too much, Alexandra Willow." She'd always called me by either my full name, or by my blasted middle name. That's why as soon as I was out of that little Maryland house and out in California, I'd started going by Alec.

Anyway, I'd met her at a house party I was dragged to by my only roommate throughout college. Sam- she refused to go by any other name, God knows why. I think the nickname was similar to her middle name, I'm note sure- was a hardcore partygoer, so, it only made sense that she would drag me to the first, but not nearly the last, party of the year.

So, I was literally dragged out to a neighboring sorority by my wrist, begging Sammy to let me go home and play my guitar and pity myself. I hadn't gotten laid in weeks, and as much as I wanted to go and have awesome drunken sex with a stranger, I just didn't want it that week. I was in no mood to go out and get hit on by dumb straight guys, and bi-curious girls, and just have to deal with people in general. The only reason why I was even putting up with Sammy was because she was an enjoyable person to be around. It wasn't until about an hour after we arrived that I'd realized that I was there that night for a reason more then just making sure that Sammy didn't hook up with someone trying to use her.

It was the night that I met the first love of my life. I saw her across the mosh pit of the dormitory with a red cup in her hand and clunky, square, black glasses on her heart shaped face. Her too big white shirt was soaked, and I could see her black lace thong through the nonexistent material of the shirt. She was the first person in ages to catch my attention in any positive way, which shocked me.

So, I went over to her, trying to get her attention in any way possible. When she finally gave me her attention, in stead of being sucked in by my charm, I was sucked in by hers. She was mesmerizing, with her long, curly red hair, and bright green eyes, and gorgeous legs that I could have spent all day just-

Nevermind. Going back to where I was- she was everything that I wanted in a fuck buddy. I almost asked her if she wanted to hook up, but I didn't. Instead, she invited me to her dorm, where we talked about everything and nothing until two thirty-sex- I mean six- in the morning. Just as I went in to kiss her goodbye, she shut her door in my face with a giggle and her phone number on the back of my hand in purple pen.

I started going to every party within a four mile radius of our campus, trying to find Jamie again. That's what her name was- Jamie. Jamie Peyton. She called me two months after I met her and asked me to meet her at a party in San Francisco. Of course I agreed. What else would you have expected me to do? Say no the chance of possibly hooking up with a really hot ginger?

I met her at a gay club with a name that sounded like a dick joke. We danced, she took a few pills, and I ended up driving her back to her dorm. I was going in for a goodnight kiss, or hug, or just something, but, of course, she slammed her door in my face again before I could get some action.

If you were to meet me in high school, if this had happened then, I would have gone out and hooked up with someone and have awesome hate sex. That didn't happen then. Instead of going out, getting plastered, and ending up having to do the walk out same to my dorm the next morning, I went to my dorm, and stared up at my ceiling until the sun rose, all the while listen to Sammy snore like a bitch.

This occurrence started happening every weekend. We'd go to a party, she'd pop pills, and I'd start falling for the eccentric, boisterous girl further and further until I asked her out on a proper date. It was Junior year- I was a pansy, I know!- when I'd finally asked her out to a coffee before my first class.

She showed up hungover and bitchy, but I didn't care. She was there, and I could talk to her without having to wonder if she'd remember it in the morning. I asked her is she'd mind meeting up with me in the mornings at the diner for breakfast each morning in stead of at parties. She walked out of the coffee shop without giving me an answer.

It was halfway through Senior year before she started showing up at the diner. She'd always order two eggs and a creamer with a little bit of coffee and twelve sugars. We'd eat, and talk about philosophy, sex positions, and death. We'd never talk about our pasts, only our futures. We never talked about our families, only our friends. We'd never walk about nightmares, only dreams, which I never had, but she always did, so I ended up doing a lot of listening over the months I was with her.

It was a week before graduation that I stopped by her dorm, after two weeks of her not showing up in the mornings. I knocked on her door, but she never answered. Her neighbors came out after a while, telling me that she'd dropped out half way through Junior year, and had moved in with someone in Vegas a few weeks ago.

Exactly one week and four days later, at one forty three in the Goddamn morning, I was walking around Las Vegas with a picture of Jamie that I'd stolen from her roommate. I was asking people, "I don't mean to be a bother, but have you seen this girl?"

It took me just over a week, but eventually I found her in the obituary. She'd overdosed in the back of a strip club with some old man inside her and a hundred dollar bill in her bra.

I was wondering why it was raining every day since the day that I new she was missing from college. I'd finally discovered why.

So, I did the only thing I could think of; I went to her funeral, and went home. I won't go into details about how much I was crying, or about how I fell on the way up the hill to her grave, and how I sat in the mud and wanted to die for over an hour. What I will tell you about is how I managed to get over the first loveI'd ever had.

I met my first love of my life with having already met her. Sam was there for me when I went back to California, and she was the one who helped me out of the depression that came after Jamie.

Sam held me each night, listening to me cry, until I stopped. She'd watch me frown until I smiled, and for years, only she could make me smile.

It was four years after Jamie's death that I first asked out Sam. Two years after that, I married her. Yeah, it took me by surprise when the pastor asked me, "Will you take Jacqueline Samantha as your lawfully wedded wife?"

Now if you don't mind, I'd love to speak to my wife of fifty-two and a half years. Sweetheart, if you're reading this, then I must be in some shitty kind of vegetative state. I never wanted you to see me like that again, and I don't want our beautiful family to see me like that either. I want them to remember the good times, not the last times. I'm not telling you to pull the plug, but, please, do what I promised you I would do for you.

I love you with all of my heart. Even in death, you will be the love of my life, and I will love you until the sun implodes and takes the Earth with it. I will love you until the end of time, and even if I no longer exist, I'll still know that I love you.

Forever yours,

Alexandra Willow