I opened the first page, “To my beloved Fallon.” I shut the book. The ink on the pages was slightly fresh. She must have written this around the day I left, around the day she died. The tears were falling on their own will, and I couldn’t stop them. I lit the fireplace and sat by it. Waiting for my crying to stop.
Once I was able to stop crying for the moment I sat at the table once again.
“To my beloved Fallon, if you are reading this, that means I’m dead. I had a dream one night about my death, I know you didn’t mean to do it. I don’t want you to hate yourself or to hide yourself away. I don’t want you to hide behind your emotions because it’s easier that way, I want you to face your emotions. Facing your emotions is going to be the only way you can gain back that type of control. If
