Dearest Cousin,
I write you today knowing your birthday is soon, and this is the first year you will not be here to celebrate with us. Yes, we are still celebrating, even without you or Bilbo here. It makes me feel a bit sad, Frodo. We all miss you and think of you often. Things seem merely half-hearted without you around, as though something – no, someone – is missing that would keep things more interesting.
I guess it is as they say about not realizing how important someone is to you until they're gone. We all begin to think it is going to continue forever the way it was when we were young, but it just does not always work out that way. That grueling, horrid Quest robbed you from us.
I remember your last birthday here in the Shire. I could already see certain changes in you because of your possession of the Ring, but I denied my instincts. I noticed how reclusive you were, but I convinced myself it was because of nightmares, not because you were drifting from us.
Then, Gandalf told us that you were going to leave later on, and my heart was crushed. My cousin was so hurt from the Quest and the dreadful Ring that he needed to seek healing from the elves. That made me hurt to know the pain you were hiding from us. We would willingly have lent a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. But I know that now your heart is consoled, that you are whole again. I would have it no other way. I understand that this was the only way for you to find healing, and I could never deny you that. I love you, Frodo, and I want only what is best for you, and that was to go West.
I will always remember you and think of you, all the wonderful times we had growing up and afterward.
Yours with much love,
Meriadoc Brandybuck