"More than a stunning debut. It is the announcement of a bold new literary voice"
—Stephen Chbosky, author of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Friday was the 11th anniversary of your death. Me and mom bought a balloon and went to the park and released it for you. I watched it until I couldn’t see it anymore, and all I could think about was that it’s not fair that I only got eight years with you, it’s not fair that you were taken away from me by a heart attack, it’s not fair that they couldn’t save you, and it’s not fair that I didn’t get to say goodbye. I miss you so much every day, and I’m sorry that I didn’t get to tell you I loved you that morning. I’ve had a hard time since you’ve been gone. I haven’t done so well. I wish you were here to help me. I wish we could go camping together again, me and you and mom. I wish we could go see the ocean again and stand on the edge of the world together. This place doesn’t feel like home, because home was where you were and now you’re gone. You taught me to be myself, you taught me to fight for myself and for what I believe in, and I will carve out a space for myself in this world and I will keep fighting. I want to make you proud. I hope you can be proud of me. Until we meet again (because I hope with all my heart and soul that we will), you’ll be in my heart. I love you, dad.