I cried while writing this. I cried while proofreading this. Andy cried while beta-ing this. You have been warned.

March 12, 2061

The room was dark, the single lamp on the bedside the only source of illumination. Outside, night had long since fallen but he couldn't bring himself to turn on another light, content to remain here in the shadows. With the light came the collection of her belongings strewn across the bedroom, exactly where they'd been for the last few days. With the light came her clothes in the closet, her coffee mug on the nightstand, her toiletries in the bathroom. With the light came the feeling that she'd never left, that she'd return at any moment, joining him in bed as she had every night for as long as he could remember.

As much as he wanted to cling that fantasy, that hope, he knew it was time to let go.

She was gone. She wasn't coming back.

And with the light of day, he knew he'd be forced to face that fact.

So there, in the semi-darkness of the bedroom that had been theirs for so many years, he found himself alone with a pen in his hand, a worn out old notebook resting in his lap. The pages were wrinkled at the edges, the cover rough, bent at the corners and weathered with age. A layer of dust coated the surface, untouched for most of the last year.

He'd long since retired from writing novels, though he still wrote for fun on occasion. And he still wrote for her, the words flowing almost effortlessly, still so inspired by her after all these years.

But tonight he knew, without a doubt, that these would be the last words he'd ever write.

Dear Kate,

I don't know what to do anymore. You're not here. You're gone from this world forever. And after 49 years with you by my side, I'm just so lost. I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with you. When I couldn't lean in and kiss you. When I didn't wake up next to you every morning, your body soft and warm against mine.

It's so cold, Kate. So cold as I lie here in our bed, alone, without you. The air in the house is empty, desolate, and it's seeping into my bones, clenching my chest, shrouding my heart.

And it hurts. I feel like someone sliced my chest open and left me here to bleed. I can't decide what's worse anymore; the stabbing pain in my heart or the dull numbness everywhere else. It's too much and too little all at the same time and I don't think I can go on like this. I know you'd want me to. I know you'd want me to live out the final years of my life to the fullest. You'd want me to be there for Alexis, for Lily and the boys and our grandkids. You'd want me to smile and laugh and find the joy in life – the joy you said I brought to you every day.

I want that too. I want to live for you. I want to make you proud.

But I don't know how. I don't know how to be that man anymore. My heart shattered the moment yours stopped beating and I don't know how to put it back together again. I don't know if I'll ever be able to.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I'm letting you down. I'm sorry I can't carry on the way I know you'd have wanted me to. You know I always did believe that of the two of us, you were the strongest.

Maybe someday I'll be able to find even the smallest semblance of that strength. Maybe I'll be able to find something to hold onto. For you, Kate, I promise to try.

I don't know where you are now or what happens next, but if you can see me, if you can read these words, please know that I treasure every single moment I ever spent with you. I'm the luckiest guy in the world for being able to call myself your husband. For having the chance to love you and be loved by you in return.

And no matter what happens, no matter where I end up, know that I will always carry you with me. In my words, in my memories, and in my heart.

I love you, Kate.

Always.

Rick

He stared at the page for a long time, eyes swimming over the black ink, the words blurring together through the tears that he no longer tried to hold back. His handwriting was much shakier than it used to be, his pen strokes less precise, but the words themselves were still there. He thought back to the millions of words he'd written over the years, not just as novels, but here in their collection of journals.

It was heartbreaking to know it was over, that this particular story had come to a close. He hoped someday in the future their children and grandchildren could draw comfort and hope and love from their story in the same way that his words had always been a source of comfort for Kate.

Kate.

He missed her. He would always miss her.

But here, within the pages of this notebook and the many others they'd filled through the years, she'd live on forever.

He pressed his fingers to his lips, felt a single tear slip from the corner of his eye as he brushed his fingertips softly against the page, released his final words to her into the never-ending silence of the room.

"I love you."

Thoughts?