Dear Jane,

Studies show there are five definitive stages of grief; denial and isolation, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, acceptance. I was speaking with your mother earlier about whether she believed the study had any merit behind it, and she thinks it does. I'm not so sure. Can you believe that? I'm not sure. I know you'll get a kick of that.

I've been reading up about how long it takes to move past the death of someone close to you, and most of the studies say it takes a minimum of one year, but I cannot find anything that tells me when this feeling will stop. It's been two years and I am still waiting. I still am struggling to accept that you're never going to call me and ask me to come over after a long day. I'm struggling with the notion that I will never get to hear you make fun of my "fun facts" as you called them. I'm struggling, Jane.

People have stopped asking about you at work. I wondered if maybe I shouldn't tell you that, but it's the truth and you know I would never tell you anything but. For the first eight months, people had the tendency to look at me with soft eyes and everyone even appeared to speak quieter when I was in the room. More than once people asked me how I was doing without you. That doesn't happen anymore, and nothing upsets me more. You don't deserve to be forgotten.

I find myself thinking back to the afternoon that you left. I have notebooks filled with memories from that fateful day. I've tried to figure out what I missed, Jane. Maybe if I had realised you had internal bleeding earlier... What sort of doctor doesn't recognise internal bleeding? I would give anything to go back and make you go to the hospital earlier. I'm sorry I failed you.

I am drowning, Jane. It's been two years and I still haven't found the nerve to open your dresser drawer. I'm terrified that the second I open it, I'll smell you and I will be forced to approach and accept the fact that I will never smell that smell on your skin again. I'll be forced to accept that your hair is never going to tickle my face in my sleep, that you're never going to steal the blankets during the night again; That you're never going to kiss me again.

I still haven't come to see you. Your mother has asked me to go with her several times, but I guess the fact that I said no every time explains why she's stopped asking. I wish she would ask again. Every time I'm in the room with her, either of your brothers, or Casey, I pray one of them will bring you up just so I can talk about you. Everyone keeps telling me I need to stop talking about you like you've gone on vacation. The first time Casey told me I was speaking about you in the wrong tense, I slapped him. You would have been proud of me, Jane.

There is something else I want to talk to you about, Jane. Being your daughters god mother means that in the event of your death; I would take her in and raise her how I know you would have. I couldn't do it. Your mother and Casey share custody of her and I get to spend weekends with her. Even weekends are too much for me. She has your voice and your big hazel eyes. Her voice pierces through my heart and it usually takes me two days to recover after she's left. I'm sorry I failed you in that department, too. I want to love her the way you would love her, but I can't. She is a constant reminder that I don't have you anymore and I'm not ready for that.

She knows all about you though, Jane. She asks for you late at night when she wakes from a bad dream and it is heart shatteringly beautiful how much she loves you considering she never got to formally meet you.

I think I'll take this to you tonight when I can be certain no one else will be there.

I miss you, Jane Rizzoli. Please come home. I can't keep staring at the bedroom door hoping you'll come waltzing in after a long day and kiss me. I'm drowning and no one can save me but you. And that's where it gets complicated; you can't save me.

I miss you constantly. I'm trying to be the woman you would have been proud to marry.

I love you. I miss you.

Love,
Maura.

I DON'T KNOW WHY I DID THIS I HAD TO STOP AND CRY TWICE ARGH