Hey Sam,
In every mirror I see your face staring at me. Well, not your face. It is my face, but with your eyes. They just stare accusing me. They whisper of all the things I could have done, should done. Those eyes, they hate me. There is nothing I can do and they simply won't understand that. I have to let you go Sammy. That is why I am writing this letter. Dad once said that if you burn a letter the person you are writing it for will get the message. Man I hope he's right. Of course he's been wrong before.
I guess what I wanted to say is that I know now why mom stopped hunting. I know why you wanted to go to college; at least I think I know. It's the same reason why I have stored the Impala away under a tarp. The same reason I sit down at a real table every night and eat a home cooked meal. It's so we can fool ourselves. This life is like the tarp over the Impala, it covers up all the monsters and demons so that for a while you forget that their there.
This is goodbye Sammy. Maybe one day we'll see each other again. If we do, I'll buy you a beer or something. Sam, I love you.
Dean