Dear Unsealers,

When I was a little girl, my grandfather bounced me on his knee and sang “Three Little Fishes” as I giggled through the song. All he ever wanted was for me to feel joy in life. He died when I was 13. It was my first experience with overwhelming grief, and I was devastated. I coped by leaning into the idea that my grandfather was watching over me and cheering me on in all my pursuits.

He used to tell me that the rain was good luck. So, whenever it rained during big moments of my life, I believed it was my grandfather signaling to me, “Don’t worry, I am here.” It rained at my high school graduation. It rained when I scored big goals in soccer. It rained when I interviewed for my dream job as a sports anchor. It poured the day I was offered that job, which happened to be my late grandfather’s birthday. It seemed like it was always raining on the most important days of my life, which only cemented my belief that my grandfather was watching out for me.

However, on November 30, 2022, it was a clear night in Miami — not a cloud in the sky. I decided to attend a networking event for people in Miami who work in technology. There, I made eye contact with this tall, handsome man. He started talking to me, and after telling him about my company, The Unsealed, he told me that he had founded an online company when he was younger. He said his site received 20,000 organic hits daily (that’s a lot). And so, I started asking many questions — it was rapid-fire, one after the other. At some point, he stopped me and said, “Do you want to continue this conversation over tacos?” And so, we left and ate Mexican street corn and tacos on a picnic table outside a restaurant that doubles as a speakeasy.

It didn’t take me long to realize that this man was kind, intelligent, classy, funny, and thoughtful. From that day forward, we started spending a lot of time together: dinners, events, and even weekend trips. As I opened up to him about my past and my pain, he listened closely. He asked questions, and he never judged me. One time, we were watching a movie, and I had a flashback from my sexual assault. I put the pillow over my head and asked him to change the channel quickly. He turned off the TV, and as my eyes started to well up with tears, he said, “Come here, let me hold you.” When I shared my fears and insecurities about building a company, he said, “Lauren, think of the ten smartest people you’ve ever encountered, and I promise you at least nine of them couldn’t do what you’ve done.” To this day, he always follows through when he makes a promise to me, whether it be a trip to a foreign place or to my favorite restaurant. From the beginning, he has known when I am happy, anxious, frustrated, or hungry — just by the look on my face — and has responded accordingly. He is so in tune with who I am and how I feel that it seems as though my peace is his priority.

Even so, early in our relationship, I was afraid to trust the authenticity of his love. I had been disappointed so many times in love and relationships, and I was on edge, just waiting for the shoe to drop — just waiting for something to go wrong. I couldn’t live in the moment as I was too afraid it would soon end. One night, he was on his computer while I was resting on his couch, and I randomly asked him what his name meant in his culture. He was in the middle of working and responded, “I don’t know — something with water.” So I googled it. His name translates as “the God of rain.”

In disbelief, that was the moment I began to let myself love and be loved. That was the moment I started to trust my partner and the universe. It was the reassurance I needed to know I was safe. About a year later, he proposed to me on the boardwalk at Disney World. We are getting married in a few months, and I am so excited. Falling in love has enriched my life and made the present moment so special, so much so that it has made me believe that magic exists in all of our lives.
For years, the rain was a way for me to stay connected to the joy my grandfather brought me, but now, it’s what allowed me to embrace the joy right before me.

With immense hope and gratitude,

Last night, I didn’t sleep well, as I had several nightmares. I was haunted by the endless images I saw in the news: A young woman’s naked, lifeless, unconscious (possibly deceased) body being paraded around as a trophy after Hamas attacked young people at a music festival in Israel, a 25-year-old woman begging for her life as she was taken as a hostage and babies whose faces were covered in dust and blood from the bombs thrown near their homes.

When I awoke this morning, I immediately read the news to see the latest. And while the horror continues on the other side of the world, I was also disheartened to learn that hate was just outside my doorstep.

People at rallies down the street from where I slept last night are wearing, holding, and celebrating images of swastikas and promoting anti-semitic rhetoric. For the first time in my life, I was and am scared to be Jewish.

While I have been doing my best to educate myself through the news, friends, and online resources, I am not going to sit here and pretend I fully understand the conflict between Palestine and Israel – because I don’t. And I know that it’s natural and easy to see the world through the lens of my own experiences and identity.

However, we all, myself included, should see and feel our humanity reflected in every person on this planet. And act accordingly.

As I try to process these last few days, the violence happening in the Middle East is not just about me, or any one group of people or politics. This cruel attack on innocent people is about all of us. It is a threat to all of humanity.

No child, no person, whether they share my background or not, whether Palestinian or Israeli (or any other culture, race, or religion), deserves to live or die in such an inhumane way.

There are a lot of issues we can’t and won’t agree on in this world. But we universally should believe in and tirelessly advocate for love, compassion, and peace for all people.

And sadly, right now, that’s not the case.

I am scared and heartbroken as I pray for the victims of violence, our world, and humanity.