It's really hard to write a letter to someone who's dead.

I know, it seems like a clich é thing to do, but I need some way to tell you everything that I should have told you when you were alive. I would just whisper them to your headstone, like I did to my parents, but yours is a public memorial, and I doubt that I can get a second alone with you. After all, the thought that I might have been close to Superman doesn't cross anyone's mind. You were - and are - a public figure. I'm just a reporter. I have nothing that makes me special.

Except, of course, that I was your friend for years, but they don't know that. I could scream to the world now that Superman was Clark Kent, but I care too much for your parents to do that. There are people who want revenge, and I'm not willing to put your parents at that risk.

All right, on to the subject of the letter.

I guess I can understand why you didn't tell me your secret, and I'm sorry that I gave you so much grief about it.

That was hard to get out.

But I didn't exactly take it well when I found out. What was I supposed to do? I'd just found out that my former almost-boyfriend could fly,for goodness' sake, and you hadn't even told me. I recognized you from a shot on the television.

So, I blocked you out for years. I'm sorry for that - I know that I can be very passive-aggressive at times, but that's the only way that I know how to deal.

I guess it's for the best that nothing worked out between us. You need somebody who can love and support all of you, not just half. Whatever happened, I never would have been able to understand the flying, tights-clad man. All I ever wanted was the farmboy.

I feel awful now for trying to pretend that everything was the same when I came to Metropolis. You weren't the farmboy that I'd fallen in love with. You were the reporter, the one thing that I could never understand. For a few months, I naively tried to find the farmboy there, and I know he was, but since I refused to accept the rest of him, he always lingered just outside of my grasp.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm happy for you and Lois. I see her flying in Superman's arms after getting into trouble somehow, or the two of you goofing off at a press conference - who would have thought? Clark Kent, goofing off! - and I can see that you're enamored with each other. Good. You and I were never able to communicate like that, even when we were almost-dating.

Pete's been around a lot lately, and he's been wonderful. He never asks why I'm crying - he knows. He misses you too, and wants to cry, but never does. You inspired him to be a hero, Clark.

And he will be. It's horrible to say, but your death gave him the motivation to succeed. He's running for the U.S. Senate, and anyone who sees him knows that he'll win. He's determined.

I love him. I guess that I have for a while, but was too obsessed with what I thought you and I had - even after you married Lois - to recognize it.

The wonderful thing about Pete is that he's honest. That's what I liked about Whitney, too, when I dated him, but I was too young to realize just how precious that is. Pete, despite the career choice as a politician, tells me everything. His hopes, his dreams, his despicable colleagues.

I feel guilty about dwelling so much on me in this letter. I saw Lois once, when I was working with some people from the Daily Planet on a story. She was in Perry White's office, having what looked like a breakdown. I couldn't quite hear what he said to try and calm her, but she screamed and said that, no, he wouldnÕt be there. He was gone and never coming back.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she was talking about you, Clark. That's the test, I suppose, of how much a person loves you. How they react when you're not there. Lois... She's devastated, but she's always been a survivor. She'll honor you enough to go on.

And as for me, I'll miss you, but you haven't been a part of my life for years. I just need to tie things up. We left things hanging before. I didn't forgive you. That's what this is for. It's my final forgiveness. I'll always love you Clark, but we were never right for each other romantically. I just wish I'd been able to be your friend before now.

I visited your body. I can't imagine why they put it on display. To see Superman, the symbol of truth and justice, frozen and mutilated is the worst symbol of moral possible. Luthor declared war on the city of Metropolis when he killed you. To see our greatest fighter destroyed is a symbol of the loss of all hope. Your veins are going to be Kryptonite-green for eternity.

I can't believe Lex. I caught a glimpse of him while we were filming at your grave. I thought for a moment that maybe - just maybe - he had come to pay his respects to your friendship, no matter how twisted it had become at the end. But he smirked. Smirked!

I don't know what's going to happen now. Superman is gone, and what is possibly the evilest man in all of history - yes, even more so than his father - is at large. But I promise you this, Clark Kent: neither your life or death were in vain.

Love,

Lana