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I don’t readthe letter right away. I can’t. Not here. Not while her husband and daughter watch me. We leave after that. I’m still holding it when River’s small hand digs into my jeans pocket and takes out the rental car keys.

“I’ll drive. You relax.”

I’m thankful for that. Our drive back to the hotel is quiet, the car radio off. Just the sounds of the road under the tires—that, and the thundering of my heart.

When we get to the hotel twenty-five minutes later, I follow River into the elevator and then to the room we stopped in before, barely long enough to drop the weekend bags we packed.

I’m glad she insisted on coming with me. If I had done this alone, I don’t know if I would have had the strength to go through with it.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she says as she grabs her bag and makes her way to the bathroom. I know what she’s doing. She’s giving me space so I can read Hannah’s letter.

Dear Liam,

If you’re reading this, then I’m dead. I never imagined I would write a letter like this.

Even though death is a constant shadow over my shoulder, I’m in the business of saving lives.

But being a doctor is not the same as being God and we are limited by what our bodies allow us to do.

You may think that writing this letter to you is difficult. I thought the same when I came up with this idea, but it’s not.

It’s freeing actually knowing that my words will be read and taken to heart. That there will be nothing left unsaid from me to you.

I’m so proud of you. So, so proud of you. When we first met you were just a kid. A kid who thought he was tough, but nothing in your life could have prepared you for this place and the horrors you saw and will see. I don’t think anyone is ever prepared to deal with this. The human mind, the human soul is far too delicate for war. At least the good ones are.

And you, Liam, you have a good heart and a good soul. I know your reasons for being here, but don’t stay too long. Make sure you leave before it’s too late. Before you’re too broken to fix. Don’t allow my death to turn you into a statistic. I know you will blame yourself for not saving me. For not being able to stop whatever is it that’s going to kill me.

It is not your fault. I chose to be here, just like you did. We chose it for different reasons, but it was our free will that brought us here. And it will be God’s will that will end it.

Don’t blame God either. It’s not God’s job to prevent bad things from happening. It’s our job. Each of us have responsibility over our actions or lack of action. And we live or die by the consequences of those actions.

Please find comfort in knowing I will be happy to see my little brother again. I have missed him more than words can tell.

It will hurt me to leave Michael and Cassie behind, but I know I will see them again. I trust in this.

One day I will be a distant memory and the war will fade away. But you, you’ll go on. You go on living. Leave your mark in the world. Go back to school and finish back home what you started here. You have valuable skills but more than that. You have a heart that’s true and pure. You are meant to save lives. Don’t throw that away.

Go home, leave all this behind, find someone to love. Find someone who understands you. Find someone who cares and be happy.

You are a great friend to me and I love you.

Now go on. Live!

Love,

Hannah