I hope the world you've gone to is a happier place than this one. I hope you found all those people you loved and lost.

I miss you so much. This dead city seems so much emptier without you here. I never meant to cause you confusion or pain. You reached out to me and I turned you down. If I could take back that night and do it over again, I would have stayed with you, I would have gladly become your lover.

I would have given my life for you if I had run faster. I would have taken the bullets aimed at you so you could live. You had so much more to live for than I do.

I will miss your laugh, I will miss your friendship, I will miss seeing the way the babies reacted when you walked into view, and I will miss hearing you talk to them, and read to them. They knew, like I know, how special you were. How special the memory of you still is.

And I will miss your optimism, the way you refused to hate the world, or God, for taking away your family.

I want to believe in a better world, I want to believe that God is real and he has done the right thing and reunited you with your husband and your daughter.

I can’t believe in a God that would kill so many people and would bring so much grief and misery to the handful left alive for no reason, or for his own amusement.

What did you and Bookman and Preacher do to deserve death now?

Once, before ED Day, Preacher would have consoled the grief-stricken and told them that that those they loved had died because of God’s Plan, or God’s Will, but even Preacher in the end stopped believing this. The loss he had to deal with amongst the survivors was catastrophic. The old lines stopped working for Preacher after ED Day.

He lost his faith.

“What God could do this to something he created?” Preacher asked me once. “What has happened here is beyond evil. It brings me no pleasure at all to tell you, Paul, that if there is a God in our world then he is demented.”

The demented God.

Maybe God died, too, on ED Day.

Goodbye Kat, goodbye my friend.