Children:
It is better to be safe than brave. Please, remember this. Your greatest strength is with each other.
I woke up with the feathered pen in my hand (not really, no one wrote like that anymore as much as he walked around in a suit of armor) and it told me that if I couldn't do (she could hide) that I could leave something.
What I leave to you is just echoes.
It mocked me (not human, couldn't bring myself to think of it like that, not if I wished it destroyed) and like always, the communication was one-way. Just a vessel, just a prop, even if part of me (me? truly?) had rejoiced in not having to keep it (us?) tight and locked up.
When it leaves you, let it go, don't keep trying to hold onto it.
I had never really wanted much more than what I have now (a small place by the sea, some books, someone to read with me) but it is selfish to be sitting when I should be standing. My children could do so much now, couldn't they (it was easy to learn to do for themselves, what with no home or memory)?
What I leave to you is a safe place, which I will guard even past the end of time.