A Grieving Shopper

Dear B. Moss,
It was a dark day Saturday for me, shopping. Everything was going fine until I got to the mall. I had heard on the news last week that you, my favorite clothing store, was closing in another town a few hours away. The person on the news was trying to justify the closing of that store by saying that all of them were closing. I wondered if it were true. I refused to believe it. I thought I'd walk to your end, my favorite corner, of the local mall and see if there were any evidence of a going-out-of-business sale, or a warning our local store was about to close. I got there and it was dark inside. It was completely empty, except for a few shelves on the floor, leaning against the back door. There were paper hand-written signs on the doors, with the words "STORE CLOSED" on them. How could I have missed that? So sad.
The only store I ever found that had clothes that fit me well that I liked, that were very reasonably priced, had disappeared forever. My friend tried to reassure me by saying something along the lines of "there are other fish in the sea," that something else would come along for me to replace the space of the market that the clothing store filled. No, it won't. It will never be the same. So sad.
I was just there about three weeks ago and you seemed fine. I guess it was a little strange that everything in the store was 40 percent off. But there was no warning, no "going out of business sale" sign or anything. You even had a whole table full of free cookies (the frosted and soft good kind, not the cheap dry, wafers) and drinks for the shoppers. I found a few things that I thought I'd come back for later. Couldn't you have at least stayed open through the end of Christmas?
Almost everything I wear to work came from your store. All your pants were the perfect length. Everything fit perfectly. Your sizes were sized such that I could buy a size smaller than my usual size and it was comfortable that way. All my favorite necklaces came from your store. And now it's gone, all gone.
Yes, I admit, I might have neglected you recently. The last time I bought something from you was about five months ago, and now I feel just terrible that I hadn't been paying more attention to you.
Remember that one time I bought that navy blue, tailored linen dress with silky lining that came with a matching linen jacket, all for $10 -- and I liked it so much that I bought two of those, for a total of $20? I do. Remember all those shirts, dresses, pants and skirts that I bought from you that were delicately and beautifully adorned with tasteful, floral embroidery? I never failed to get compliments when I wore them. Remember that navy blue sweater set, with the sleeveless sweater and matching cardigan, with the navy and white ribbon trim? I used to wear it just about every week, and now, about five years later, it finally needs replaced because it's just starting to look a little faded and might have a small hole in it.
I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. Please come back to me. I just want to send my kids one last time to the fitting room to the children's table to color on the papers that say, "I drew while mommy shopped." I just want to buy one last thing that is 50 percent off the Red-Line Clearance price. Why did it have to end this way?
With Love,
A Grieving Shopper