Hey Dad.

I'm not really sure if I do it right, but I guess that's how we start a letter. It sounds a little lame but I can't come up with something else so I'll go for a "hey Dad".

I don't know what I should say. This is all kinda new to me. I'm not like Mom, I'm not really good with words. I never knew how she could write to you all the time. I can't even start a letter with something better than some lame stuff. I've always seen Mom writing to you on your desk late at night, and I've seen Ros' starting the ritual, too.

I have never known what Mom and Ros' wrote in the letters. I've never even asked. I've read every Ros' diary, but I've never read her letters. I knew where she put them. She had 2 boxes full of them in a compartment of her bed.

I guess I should talk about me, right? So that you'll know few stuff about my life. Well I'm Holden D. Scott, I'm 18 and I just graduated from Tree Hill High. That's it. See, nothing really exciting actually. Oh yeah, I'm the son of Brooke and Lucas Scott. And my dad died 14 years ago.

The story of my life. You died.

I know who you were. You were that bookworm loner brooding guy Mom fell in love with in the same High School Ros' and I went, and proposed to her on the beach on a Tuesday rainy night. I know everything about you. Your height, your first job, your favorite book, your eyes color. Mom talked about you everyday, you know. She told us everything you've done in your life, she told us what you liked, what you read, what you listened to. I know how you look, too. I've seen pictures of you everywhere at home, I've seen every video Grandma K and Mom have of you. I've read all the books you've written, all the poems you've published, all the articles you've done for Mom's paper. I've heard childhood stories about you from Aunt Hales, like how you were scared of the Teletubbies. I've heard your High School basket ball records from Uncle Nate. I've heard all kind of things about you from all kind of people.

And yet I don't really know you. I have no memories of you, whatsoever. I don't remember you playing soccer with me, I don't remember you helping me with my homework, I don't remember you carrying me piggyback all around the house, I don't remember you comforting me after breaking my arm. Sad, isn't it? Not really, actually. You died when I was 4. I'm used to it.

I only remember sensations of you. Like a scent I would think of as your perfume that would remind me of you, or like a noise your shoes would make when you came into my room to check on me late at night. I would remember feeling you next to Mom when she was writing, I would remember feeling you kissing the cut on my elbow with her. I would remember feeling you with her. That's how I remember you. With her.

I don't blame you for leaving me. At least I don't anymore. When I got old enough to understand my dad wouldn't be there for me, I started hating it. Yeah I hated you. Mom never knew, and I don't think Ros' even paid attention to it, she was too busy trying to be like Mom and worshiping you. I mean I love you and the image I have of you, and I know you love me too, but I hated you. I hated you because you weren't there for teaching me how to drive, you weren't there for jogging with me in the morning, you weren't there to do some touchdown in the backyard with me, you weren't there to set the trampoline, you weren't there to talk to me about girls - although, I've never really needed that talk since I lived with 2 already. I hated that. And as much as I was thinking that, I knew deep down, I was lying to myself.

I've never written to you before. It didn't mean I wasn't thinking about you. Mom has always said Ros' is like you. She knows how to say and what to say when it comes to what she feels. And I don't. I'm not like that. I don't know how to put words on how I feel. Emotionally, I'm just like Mom. Exposing my feelings on the line is harder for me than for Ros'. She's not scared of getting hurt on the road. I've loved her for that. Physically, I'm just like you. I got your hair, I got your hands and your shoulders. When Mom was looking into my eyes, she would say she always sees the same blue she fell in love with. She always said that she was falling in love with you all over again just by looking at Ros' and me. 14 years after you left, she still loved you, 14 years after your death, she was still married to you and to your memories.

I hated that you left her. I hated seeing a shade of sadness in her smile. Ros' and I have had a good life, we had everything we wanted. We had numerous of uncles, aunts, cousins and friends, we had a great home, great clothes, great education. Mom gave us the best she had, she loved us the best she could - unlimitedly. She gave us the force to believe in ourselves. And she gave us her strength. She loved us. I don't remember a time where she told us she was sad, where she would actually say the words. But I would have done anything to kill that pain in her eyes.

She had always been there for us. She was there at every Ros' heartache, she was there at every play I was in, she was there at our first day of junior year, she was there for every punishment we had, she was there for every boring parents meeting. She threw herself into her love for us and always made us a priority. I will always thank her for taking care of us. I know why she was the woman you shared your life with, and I love you even more for it. I'll always look up to her, she is the only mom I would have ever wanted. I want you to know how great of a mom she was with us. She loved us everyday and showed us how life can be, without having to lie to us about it. She was real about it.

I got your letter 4 months ago. Mom gave it to me before she left. I didn't know she had it for the past 14 years and never talked about it. I can't believe I never knew about the one you wrote to Ros' for her graduation either. Mom was always full of surprises. My letter is in front of me right now. Mom told me to wait until graduation to open and read it. She wanted to make sure I got it from her. A promise she made to you many long years ago and kept until the day she died. She knew it was important for you that she would be the only one I got it from. And today, after burning my gown and cap with Jewel, I read it. I wanted to thank you for it, for giving me the chance to get to know you through that letter. I wish I would have had that letter sooner, it would have spared some doubts and fears I had for a long time. But Mom was right, she wanted to wait the right time for me to have your last words to me, and today was it. I read it and I understood. I just wish she would have been here when I'd read it.

I miss and think about her all the time. It hurts everyday. People think Death is stronger than Life. I don't know if it is true or not, and I guess I will never know. But I know Love is stronger than death. I've known it and been shown it my whole life. Mom loved you even after your life, and I love her even after hers.

Ros' and I had been there for her in every step of the disease. We were there for the first dizziness, for the first vomiting, for the first treatment, for the first results, for the first breakdown. We've been there for every cry, every look and every smile. When she stopped treatment, she was as strong as she has always been. We've heard her last laugh, we've seen her last smile, and we've cried her last words.

I have known Love in my life. I met Love passionately the day your father walked into my life, I met Love unconditionally the moment I posed my eyes on you, my children. And that is why I can leave without any doubts that I have been happy. You gave me all of you, and that would last as long as my love for your dad and you. Always.