If I could visit my younger self I would go back to the day when I first learned how to laugh

Before my joy became bogged down by the weight of the past

I’d go back to when I felt a lions heart beating inside of me

Back when my weapon was my bravery

I’d go back to when there were no forks in the road

Back when I carried a lighter load

I’d go back to when I’d gaze up at skies so blue

And immediately my mind would think of You

When I thought peace could be achieved by hundreds of people linking arms in a chain

And I thought a hug could ease every type of pain

I’d go back to when I was baptized with holy water

And relive the moment I became a beloved daughter

I’d go to my childhood where I’d try to capture butterflies in my memere’s yard
And when I observed that a caterpillar’s journey is hard

When days were perfect with not a cloud in sight

And I would squeal with a child’s delight

Those moments of wonder were such a gem

That if I could I’d relive them again

But the clock keeps ticking as time marches on.

But that sense of wonder isn’t gone.

Indeed it still remains

When I think about how Love allowed Himself to be blood-stained

When I think about how Jesus called us to be like children.

That’s when awe & wonder start to pour in.

Dear Erin,

I remember the beginning of freshman year of college being worried about if I would be able to make friends as good as the ones I had at home. My naturally shy self wanted a place to fit in and longed for friendships that would be lifelong. Though my floor and I bonded well, I didn’t always feel like I fit in or that my friendships were as deep as I wanted them to be. That is until I met you. We bonded well. Our friendship continued through sophomore year. At the end of my sophomore year I knew I wanted to room with someone different, but didn’t know exactly who. One of my “friends” suggested that we room together. That was probably the nicest thing he ever said and did for me. I asked you if you wanted to room with me and was delighted when you said yes. Little did I know that rooming with you would lead to a lifelong friendship, lots of laughter, and a feeling of family.

We are so different. You are outgoing and extroverted. You start up a conversation with waitresses/waiters, cashiers, and random strangers on the street. You always have the cashier ring up your groceries so you can interact with them, while I rely mostly on self-checkout. I love to joke that you are my emotional support extrovert, as I am shy and like to keep to myself. You are a night owl and I am a morning person. You are from the city and I live in the middle of nowhere. We complement each other very well. What I admire most about you is your confidence, your strength and your ability to overcome adversity. Though you’ve been put through the ringer many times with school and health issues but you always bounce back. People may misunderstand your beautiful heart but it hasn’t seemed to dim the love you have for yourself (and I mean this in the best of ways). We’ve spent many a night laughing together, crying together, had epic photo shoots together and stayed up late talking about the men we like, and the boys we can’t stand. Ours is more than a friendship. It’s a sisterhood. I know that no matter what you’ve always got my back, and I hope you know I’ve always got yours.

You have a zeal for life that is unmatched. You make even the most mundane things fun. You don’t hold back or hide. In a world where people try to be anyone but themselves, you stand out for being authentically yourself. You radiate with joy and uniqueness and it is beautiful to see. You encourage, inspire, and provide a place for me to be my authentic self and I can’t thank you enough for that. I love you girlie and I can’t wait to see what memories we create this summer.

You are one of my best friends and I have no doubt that you will one day be my bridesmaid.

With love & admiration,

Dear Walt Disney,

Like you, I am both a creative and an entrepreneur. Your legacy inspires me beyond measure.

See, this weekend, I visited Walt Disney World, a collection of theme parks named in your honor and developed based on many of your ideas and creations. It’s the second time I have been there just this year and the sixth time in my life. Each time I go to Disney World, I leave amazed. The parks are enormous, and yet they are so detail-oriented. On average, 58 million people visit Disney World and its parks yearly. Each day, the average revenue for Disney World is $82 million. The parks at Disney World are unlike any other amusement park in the world. And the amount of joy you have brought to people’s lives through these parks and your films is never ending and not quantifiable.

When I look up at the castle at Magic Kingdom or the ball at EPCOT, I can’t help but think about how this entire empire started with just a vision and a simple cartoon, and that cartoon is now an American icon known as Mickey Mouse.

While I don’t know how to draw and have no ambition to go into the theme park business, my visions are bigger than anyone else can see. And my starting point is simple. It’s not a mouse like Mickey, but rather a letter – written from one human to another.

Through letters, I want to inspire people, unite different cultures, and catalyze productive conversations on critical social issues that impact our society. My business is still small – in its infancy. But my vision is clear and so big.

Mr. Disney, you give me so much hope and fire to keep marching forward.

For me, Disney World is not just a place for rides, shows, and good food. And your legacy is so much more than the drawings you created. Both are reminders of what is possible with a simple concept, a big vision, and a determined spirit.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

I remember when I first learned of misogyny, racism and pure hate
I had thought long ago it all reached its expiration date

Clearly, I was wrong
As many are still dancing to an old song

As a young girl, they told me playing sports is a microcosm of adult life
But in the real world, the refs try to prevent me from winning at any
role except mother and wife

They do so by attempting to lower my ceiling
While reducing my existence to what I do when I am lying or kneeling

When it comes to civil rights, I may have never seen a noose
But the concept of racial equality is definitely still a ruse

I know I am not black and I can’t understand racism through what I
hear on the news or read in a book
But I am human and I know a young innocent boy should not be shot
because of the way he looks

In love, we still can’t all marry the person who makes our hearts feel
cared for or protected
Instead we must worry and live in fear that our connection won’t be
accepted

In careers, many of us don’t receive opportunity based on ability
Instead, we are held back because of our complexion, sexuality or
femininity

The solution is in our own evolution

We are fighting old battles in a modern form
A new movement where we all stand for each other needs to be born

Men must stand up against rape and be leaders in its elimination
Women need to speak up when different races or sexual orientations
receive any kind of discrimination

Our voices would have so much more power if we sang as a choir
Going against the establishment as separate acts just lead us to tire

Whether you’re black, white, female or LGBT
People need to stand for people if we are all going to be set free

Our past should not still be our reality
It’s time for injustice to be the latest fatality

Our children deserve a world where hate doesn’t consistently rise
above
Instead, I want them to experience the best of life, by living in a place
where they can feel hope and universal love

Dear Dad,

I can’t remember the exact day or even the precise year that this memory took place. At the time, I was working for MSG Varsity, a high school sports network in the New York metropolitan area. I was probably about two years out of college and maybe 23 or 24 years old. That job was a breakthrough. It was my first steady on-air job. Before getting an offer to work for MSG, I must have been rejected by 100 stations. I was pursuing what many thought to be an impossible career as a TV sports reporter. So many naysayers told me I was wasting my time and my education. But not you, Dad. You told me never to give up on a dream. You told me you believed in me and tried to provide any resources possible to help me succeed.

That’s why this moment, which I am about to share, meant so much to me.

See on this day, I walked into work and everybody was buzzing about Emmy nominations. I was a young reporter in the number one market in the country, so my expectations were low. Then, just as I was about to start writing a script, one of my coworkers told me to check the Emmy nominations. They said they were almost sure they saw my name listed. I don’t remember if I read a hard copy or if I looked at the nominations on my computer or someone else’s computer, but I got a hold of the list, and sure enough, my name was printed twice. In my first year as a reporter, I received two Emmy nominations in the number one market in the country. Before saying anything to anyone, I went into the stairwell and started to cry as I called you to tell you the news.

That’s the moment that is etched in my memory forever. That’s the moment I will never forget. I remember how I felt overwhelmed with emotion and how I could barely even get the words out to tell you. I remember how happy you were to hear the news and how you told me to stop crying.

It wasn’t so much the recognition from the industry or that I got to go to the ceremony and wear a pretty dress that made that moment so special. Don’t get me wrong. All that was great too. But at that moment, I felt I had proved that your unwavering support and belief in me were worthwhile. That you didn’t waste your time or money investing in my dreams.

A decade and change later, I have yet to win an Emmy, even though I was nominated five more times after that. But that moment in the stairwell means more to me than any trophy. That five-minute phone call celebrating with you and hearing the pride in your voice were and are the only prizes that ever mattered to me.

I love you, Daddy. Thank you for always believing in me.

Dear Memere G,

Our time with you was always filled with special moments, moments filled with adventures that fostered in me a sense of awe and wonder. Though the days could get busy you always made sure we had a few moments impregnated with silence and rest. You spoiled us to no end with the quality time and the many extravagant gifts you gave us. We had the best dress up closet me and my sisters could’ve ever asked for. But most importantly you always made sure that we knew we were loved.

Even when you had Alzhiemer’s and you couldn’t remember exactly who I was you always found ways to assure me of your love. I remember the day two of your friends came to visit you at the nursing home that you were living at. I was chaperoning this visit to make sure they wouldn’t make you agitated. They didn’t understand the nature of your illness and kept asking you if you remembered specific moments from the past. I wanted to tell them off because I know you were having a hard time, but I didn’t know how. Finally they were going to leave. They wanted and tried but with no avail to have you say “I love you” to them. I knew you were searching for the words but couldn’t find them. After a few minutes of trying to get you to say it they left. I stayed a little longer with you enjoying our time together even if you couldn’t find the words to say. Then about 10 minutes after your two friends left you said “I love you,” clearly, coherently, and confidently. I was so shocked and moved by this special gift that you bestowed upon me. These would be the last coherent words you would say to me.

This meant more to me than anything else. I knew how hard you had to work to find and form those words. I know how your brain was working against you. These words weren’t just words, they were treasures. As a person who has been bullied most of my life I haven’t always been so sure that I was loved. My anxiety and depression convinced me that people didn’t like, nor care about me. Faculty seemed to ignore me or not care when I told them about the bullying. That’s why your words meant so much. I have to think that that’s why you chose to say those words to me, so I always knew that there was someone who loved me. Through a sea of static you showed waves of your love.

I want you to know Memere, that even though you aren’t with us anymore I still love you and I always will.

Until we are reunited again,

Dear Mom,

Growing up, I didn’t always appreciate you as I do now. I didn’t fully understand you as a child because our dreams were so different. At ten years old, I was outspoken and already very career driven. You always liked working and wanted to do well, but you never had a burning desire for a promotion or more responsibilities. For a long time, I thought you were less ambitious than me, but as the years passed, I learned that that’s not exactly correct.

Mom, you are the backbone of our family. When a crisis hits, you are the one we all turn to for comfort, support, and wisdom. You have this incredible ability to calm us all down while providing logical advice. When I got rejected by my crush in elementary school, you were the one who sat in my bed and told me I was beautiful. When I decided to go to private school 40 minutes from our house and then play for a travel soccer team 40 minutes away in the opposite direction, you (and dad) spent hours in the car, driving me back and forth. When I was worried about getting into college, you were the one who told me you were proud of me regardless of which school accepted me. When I opened up about my assault, you were the one who told me my response was normal and OK. When my ex-boyfriend passed away, you were the one who held my hand at the funeral. And when I started my business, you spent days on end sending out emails for me.

Mom, I have come to realize that you were and are very ambitious. You wanted, more than anything, to foster a loving family and you did whatever it took to make that happen. As a family, we have endured difficult situations together, and you have handled each with strength, grace, selflessness, and love. Every day, you have made our family a priority. To this day, you help us persevere through the most challenging moments of our lives, while also supporting us as we chase our wildest dreams.

Mom, you may not have wanted to be a boss in a boardroom, but you were/are one heck of a CEO in our household.

I am proud to be your daughter, as I admire and love you more than you’ll ever know.

With love,

Posted on the first anniversary of my Pepere’s passing.

I absolutely adored my Pepere* Hebert. He was a man larger than life and a heart of gold. When I was younger as a joke he would take the Doritos that I would have with my lunch, which would send me into a fit of crying because those were my favorite chips. As I grew older I saw both a silly and sensitive side to my Pepere. One day he would be giving his bride, his wife of over 50 (maybe 60) years a hotdog as a Christmas present, the next he’d be comforting me over the phone and reminding me that he loved me as I cried about lost friendships. I adored this man that would do anything for his family, that would do anything to see me smile. He was my hero saving the day countless times whether it was pulling a pin my sister had gotten stuck in her foot out of her foot (because I was too scared and squeamish to do it myself) or whether it was driving two hours to pick up my prom date whose car had broken down so that I didn’t have to go to prom alone. Every weekend he would take a leisurely ride past those of the children and grandchildren who lived in the area. My mom tells me he did this to make sure we were all ok. I grew up visiting him and my Memere almost every Friday night. If we ever skipped a Friday he was sure to call on Saturday asking when we were coming over. And when we were about to leave he would also exclaim “sabre** come again.” Anyone who visited was sure to feel welcome by the warmth of my Memere and Pepere’s home and the love that they exuded. Both of them were so generous with their time, treasure, and talent.

Perhaps the greatest lesson that my Pepere taught me was to never give up. Though he had several health issues he was never one to sit on the sidelines and wait for death. He found different ways of doing his hobbies. Around Thanksgiving of 2022 both my grandparent’s health declined and they were both in the hospital. My Pepere pressed on and started doing better. My Memere’s health unfortunately declined and she passed away on December 23rd (I’ll write a letter about how much I loved her later on). The funeral for her came and went. The months in between my sweet Pepere couldn’t catch a break. His health was declining. My mom and her sister would visit every day to take care of him and help him with things. In February my parents came downstate (I live 7 hours away from them but still in the same state) to attend another loved one’s funeral. After the funeral we got the news that my Pepere’s health was declining and the end was near. I packed my bag and made the choice to head up North to see him one last time. Little did I know that I would be the one that he would choose to be beside him holding his hand when he was actively dying. I noticed his eyes were sort of open, but they were a different color than the deep brown they had always been and they were glazed over. I called for my mom and she told me it wouldn’t be long. She was right. He passed away within minutes.

I took bereavement time off from work to attend the funeral and to process all that had happened. Trying to move forward and to create some sense of normalcy I decided to go to a little café/gift shop for breakfast that day. I ordered and ate my breakfast. Then I lingered to look at what was in the gift shop. Amanda Gorman’s book “Call Us What We Carry” caught my eye. I debated whether or not to buy it in my head. As if reading my thoughts this little old man seated at a table not far away asks if I know who that is to which I respond yes. He then asks if I am going to buy the book and I answer that I am not sure. Without skipping a beat this man pulls out $20 and places it in my hand and tells me to buy the book. He tells me he does a nice thing for someone every day and today I was the recipient of his kindness. I could’ve cried right then and there. This man didn’t know me, he didn’t know that I had just lost my Pepere, he didn’t know I was grieving, he didn’t know that I had come to this café to find some normalcy when my world had been crumbling down. The only thing this man knew was that his kindness mattered. That moment didn’t cure the grief that I was and that I still feel about the passing of my Pepere, but it sure did bring a smile to my face. I believe that my Pepere put this man in my path to show me that he was watching over me.

That day the little old man was a testament to the quote “everyone is fighting a battle we know nothing about. Be kind.” I issue that same challenge to you today. Be kind to everyone you meet. It doesn’t have to mean buying something for someone, it could be as simple as smiling at someone or opening the door for them or entering into conversation with a stranger. You’ll never know how your kindness will impact another person. Let us choose to carry kindness with us wherever we go.

*Pepere is the French word for grandfather. It is pronounced pep/ehh. Memere is the French word for grandmother. It is pronounced mem-ehh.

**Sabre cannot be directly translated but is a French expression that indicates happiness, joy, contentment. And it was always said with that disposition too.

To Those Who Doubt Themselves,

Most people never discover how far their talents can take them.

Instead, it is so easy to let doubt hold you back. It’s so easy to ponder if you are smart enough, good enough, or have the stamina to climb the mountain you see ahead. And, of course, it doesn’t make it any less daunting when you have naysayers – people who say you can’t do it. But what I want you to know and what my journey thus far has taught me is that you’re in control of your destiny.

There are so many instances in life where I was scared to pursue a challenge. When I got accepted to an Ivy League school, I didn’t think I was smart enough to attend. When I decided to start a business, I didn’t know if I had the experience or resources to pull it off effectively. And when recently, I decided to start learning how to code websites, I honestly didn’t know if my brain could absorb a computer language.

As I questioned my abilities in those circumstances, other people also doubted me. Here are just a few comments I heard from people:

“You’re not as smart as the other kids who go to Columbia. You won’t do well there.”

“Do you know how many people fail at starting a business? You’re wasting your time.”

“How are you going to learn to code on your own? There are so many levels to it. You’ll never be able to be proficient in it.”

Despite my doubts, and the doubts of others, I pursued each challenge anyway.

I repeatedly told myself, almost like a religious mantra, “If someone else can do this, I can do it too. If someone else can do this, I can do it too.”

I made the dean’s list every semester during my last two years at Columbia(I think). My very first post, when I started my business, went viral. And with computer code, I found a cheap course online, and I am enjoying learning to code. It’s actually coming to me pretty easily so far.

So, don’t listen to any of your doubters. They are projecting their fears onto you. Always have confidence in yourself because right now, you have no idea what you can accomplish in your life. But I promise you, if you take a chance, if you have a little faith in yourself, and never give up, you just might be one of the lucky ones to find out.

With Love,

Dear Sports,

Sometimes love comes into our lives early and easily. That’s the case with you. I remember meeting you around age four or five, but it could have been even younger. I lived on a cul-de-sac, and all the kids on our street would regularly play kickball in the circle. We’d play for hours, sometimes mixing in tag or hide and seek. Without much effort, I could always keep up with the older kids. And every time I tried a new sport, it took me no time to figure it out. But it wasn’t until my parents signed me up for organized soccer with kids my age that I realized I was athletic. I was faster than everyone else. And scoring goals was easy. Immediately, I was hooked. I loved competition. And quite frankly, I loved winning.

While I played many sports throughout my childhood, soccer became my primary sport. I played on club, school, and select teams. Soccer allowed me to see the world, as I was chosen to play on a team that competed as far as Italy when I was 15 years old. Besides competition, sports introduced me to my best friends – many of whom I am still close with now.

I am forever grateful that you, sports, came into my life.

As an adult, I no longer play on competitive sports teams. And I probably don’t work out as much as I should. But you are still an essential part of my life. You shaped me into the person I am today. You, sports, taught me how to push through adversity. You showed me the power of a good and consistent work ethic. Through you, I developed tremendous confidence and mental toughness, which serves me well every single day of my life. And when I have a long week or am frustrated or scared, I can still turn to you for peace. I’ll rollerblade along the water for miles or lift at the gym.

While many loves in our life come and go, there are some rare ones that not only come early and easily but also last a lifetime.

I love you always.

Your old friend,

I’ve been where you are. I’ve always been a bit of a perfectionist myself. I don’t think that’s all bad as we are called to excellence. However, it can make life kind of stressful. Your need for perfection can then spiral into overthinking every little move you make, criticizing yourself for things outside of your control, and shame that is totally unnecessary. You look in the mirror to find that your own worst enemy is staring back at you. You worry that if you make one mistake that people will see you as incapable and incompetent. You’ll show them you can do it all. Until you can’t. Suddenly you feel yourself teetering on the tightrope about to plummet to the ground. This was me before the pandemic started. I believed the lie that this rat race world feeds us that we must stay busy, we must produce results. So I took on added responsibility thinking I could juggle it all and also what was going on in my personal life. But really I was on the edge of burnout. My mental health was not good. My work was suffering. I was exhausted. To make matters worse my boss talked to me about my performance without asking what was going on in my personal life that was making it that way. She seemed to see my poor performance as a character flaw rather than the fact that a check engine light was on, and I desperately needed help. Deeply distressed and beating myself up for my mistakes I ended up with a fender bender. Luckily no one was hurt, but inside I was really hurting.

In 2020 the pandemic forced everything to a screeching halt. I went to my parents, house with no idea of how long I was going to be there. My parents and I were all working at home under one roof. The extra family time was a much needed blessing. My schedule usually filled to the brim with things to do was completely open for the first time in a long time. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I ended up doing a lot of thinking and realized that I don’t need to do everything. I am human, I make mistakes and I’m going to continue to. When I do make a mistake I can choose how I respond. I can choose to respond with grace and self-compassion. I don’t have to spiral, I don’t have to walk the tight rope. A mistake doesn’t automatically mean falling. I started to prioritize more and suddenly I was worrying less and less about what others thought about my mistakes and taking the opportunity to let my mistakes teach me a lesson.

Sweetheart I know you want to move mountains and you will. But spiraling won’t get you there. Beating yourself up won’t make you stronger, instead it will tear you down more. You need to learn to rest. You need to learn that your mistakes don’t define you. Learn to embrace your humanity. Learn to love yourself the way that you would love a friend. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of self-forgiveness. You are worthy to live a life that includes mistakes because if you haven’t noticed everyone else is too. When you learn these things you’ll be freer, happier, healthier, and holier. If you don’t hear anything else in this letter hear this; unlike St. Paul, you can’t be everything to everybody, but instead of being your own biggest enemy, you can learn to look in the mirror and embrace yourself in grace and self-compassion.

With love,

To someone who is too hard on themselves,

You must be so anxious and stressed. You never seem to be where you want to be in life. I know how you feel because I have felt this way, too. My older sibling was always smarter than me. As a child, he did better in school than me, and as an adult, he certainly makes more money than me. It is as though I have had this bar way above my head my whole life. And no matter how hard I work or how many times I try, I never seem to jump high enough to graze that bar with my fingertips. And yet, I never stop trying.

Throughout my adult life, I have worked weekends and nights. I have lost sleep as thoughts of work ruminate in my head, and I have pulled all-nighters just because I have felt like I needed to get more done. All too often, I find myself exhausted, stressed, and frustrated. And I have come to realize that those emotions are not helpful. I started my company, The Unsealed, 3.5 years ago, and until this past weekend, I hadn’t taken one vacation.

An opportunity to go to Disney World arose. And seriously, who can say no to Disney World? I attended shows, tried out new rides, and ate at new restaurants for three days. It was so much fun. I gave my mind a break – a moment to live in the present and enjoy the people in my life and the blessings surrounding me. I drove home on Sunday. Now, it’s Monday, and I feel refreshed and motivated. The weekend made me realize how important it is to come up for air sometimes.

For so long, I put pressure on myself and never took my foot off the gas. But that’s not healthy or productive. So, if you’re like me and push yourself very hard, I hope you learn to be kind to yourself, take breaks, and live in the moment. When you take days off, don’t think about work or whatever you are pushing yourself to do. Give your mind and your soul time to refresh, recharge and recalibrate.

Your ambition probably won’t ever go away. But what I have come to realize is that if you want to do your best in life, it’s vital that you feel your best.

Don’t measure your success with someone else’s bar. Prioritize your health and your happiness. And always appreciate where you are, where you’ve been, and where you’re going.

Dear Kris,

Last year, I stumbled upon a CNN article entitled, “I have got terminal cancer. Here is why I am prioritizing travel.” The article shared how you were diagnosed at 48 years old with late stage four colon cancer. Despite the diagnosis, you remained committed to the activities that bring you joy in life, which include spending time with your family and traveling around the globe. I immediately knew I wanted to share your story with our community. I knew you would represent what The Unsealed is about: resilience, kindness, and strength. However, there was one result of meeting you I didn’t see coming..

While The Unsealed is not nearly as well-known or as prominent as CNN, you immediately responded to me and happily agreed to share your story with me. You sat on zoom with me for more than an hour and shared with me the shock of discovering you had terminal cancer. You had this proud grin on your face as you told me how you captured your wife’s heart. And you told me about the abundance of joy you experience daily by being the father to your sweet, intelligent, curious young son, Braden. But more than just your story, how you approach life’s challenges clearly came across in our interview. And that is with boundless positivity and a pure heart. When you receive a cocktail of intense chemo, you do so with a cheerful disposition and kind words to share with the nurses and doctors who treat you. You don’t approach work or everyday life with a “Why me?” attitude, but instead, you see each day as a gift to enjoy with the people you love most. You are aware of the reality of your situation, but you do not let it take away from the people and places that make you smile, as you continue to travel the world and take walks on the beach with your wife and son.

After interviewing you, we posted your story on The Unsealed in a letter to your wife and son. Then, you spoke to our community on one of our weekly zoom calls. Your zest for life and your pursuit of positivity are contagious. In the following months, I noticed I became more disciplined about staying optimistic about the challenges in my life. While starting a business is not nearly as difficult as battling cancer, it’s the obstacle I currently face. And because of you, instead of dwelling on what is going wrong, I started to look at what is going right and figure out how to lean into those tactics more. When a strategy I implement doesn’t go as planned, instead of feeling frustrated, I look for the lesson and adapt accordingly. When I interact with people, no matter how my day is unfolding, I always try to lead with kindness. The mindset you have helped shape within me has impacted my productivity, patience, and happiness. And as my company has grown, the process has become less stressful and more joyful.

Kris, when I first came across your story, I knew you would inspire so many people, but what I didn’t know was how much you would influence me.

Thank you.

Keep fighting! Keep smiling! Keep being you!

With love,

From the moment I was born you were mine. My parents had chosen you to be my godmother, a duty which you took very seriously. When I look back you were always there for every one of my milestones; my Baptism, my first few words, my first steps, my first haircut, my Confirmation and First Communion, my high school graduation. You were even there when I got my acceptance letter to St. Joseph’s College. When I moved into St. Joe’s you took me under your wing and made sure I always knew that I had a safe place to go when I wanted to get off campus. You enjoyed spending time with me and even invited me on outings like going blueberry picking with you, your daughter, and your granddaughter. You became my second mom when my mom was 7 hours away.

And then unexpectedly you passed. There was no warning. There was no chance to say goodbye. You were gone. I remember where I was when I got the call. My entire floor had just gone to a trampoline park and we were hungry so we went to get ice cream. I saw my mom had texted me but thought nothing of it when she said “call me.” My sister texted me and told me to call mom. I texted back “why? Is it an emergency?” She responded “yes.” I excused myself from the group and ran to my RA’s car and called my mom. I could hear on the other end she was crying. She told me that you had passed and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I crumbled in a ball. I remember my mom asking “Hannah are you ok?” I don’t remember what I said. I remember my RA, a guy I didn’t know very well, and the girls on my floor coming back to the car and finding me weeping. My RA asked what was wrong and all I could get out between sobs were “SHE. IS. GONE.” It didn’t take long for denial and then shock and then loneliness to set in. I remember after the funeral we walked the middle aisle to the back of the church as a family. I remember everyone grabbing onto each other’s hand, but I had one hand free. The hand that you would have held if you were still alive. I didn’t know how I was going to live one day without you, let alone 8 years.

Grief still steals the air right out of my lungs sometimes, but I like to think that since you have gone I have been managing my grief and learning to breathe again. In the 8 years since you have been gone I have been working to build and live a life that you would be proud of. There are so many life milestones that I wish you could’ve been here for. Still I have to believe that you’ve seen them or at least know about them. Let’s start from the beginning. I graduated from St. Joseph’s with a bachelor’s degree in theology with minors in secondary education and psychology. From there I moved to Southern Maine and started my first job working for the Diocese. 4 years later I am still working there and I love what I get to do and who I get to meet through this job. Shortly after I graduated undergrad I decided to apply for grad school and was accepted to Felician University’s Master of Arts in Religious Education program. In the middle of this the pandemic happened. I began counseling in order to heal wounds from the past. And oh what a year 2022 was. I graduated with my Master’s and our family had a party to celebrate. I know you would’ve been there if you could’ve been. Family was your number one priority. I also went on a service trip to Kentucky to work with the Christian Appalachian Project in honor of you and all my loved ones who have passed away because you all were people who served others with love. We were doing home repair. And oh my gosh that trip was probably the best thing I did this past summer. I learned and experienced so much. I know if you were here today we would’ve gotten together to discuss it over coffee and donuts. I am so grateful to God for giving me that opportunity. I have no idea what 2023 holds (maybe you do….I don’t know how that works), but I hope that each day I do something that makes you proud.

This letter is getting long, so I’ll conclude with some things that I always want you to know.

I celebrate because you lived.
I still grieve because you died.
I am still impacted by your love and kindness.
I will always remember you.
I wish you were here.
I love you still.

Love,

Dear George,

You were meant to be a part of our family. After losing the dog that we had since I was in Kindergarten my mom claimed we weren’t getting another dog. But my dad convinced her to open her heart up again, and this time all roads lead to you….literally. You traveled from Georgia to Maine as a puppy. At the shelter, my parents observed how you interacted with a young girl, how you played with her, yet you were so gentle too. That’s the moment they fell in love with you and knew that they wanted to take you home. I can’t help but believe that our old dog, Lucky, had pulled some strings and guided us to you.

At first when we took you home you were timid, but slowly your sweet, sensitive, silly personality began to show through. You quickly became my companion. Every errand, every ride, everywhere I went you were by my side. Your little wet nose on my face was the first thing I felt at 6am on Saturday morning as you demanded that I get up so that you could get your cuddles in and then go back to bed, and your solid body against my leg was the last thing I felt at night before I fell asleep.

Life with you is filled with more laughter, love, and epic cuddle sessions. You give me a reason to get out of the bed in the morning. While you can’t talk, your actions communicate so much to me. Your cuddles communicate your unconditional love, your paw resting delicately on my lap and your solid body against my leg at night make me feel safe and secure. You greeting me at the door makes me feel welcome. You showing me your belly for the thousandth belly rub of the day helps me to know that you trust me. You putting your nose under my armpit or on my shoulder as if giving me a hug. You have me (and each member of our family) wrapped around your paw. We love you so much and are so grateful to have you as a part of our family.

Love,

Dear Vernon,

The odds of us crossing paths were slim, but the domino effect of connecting with you was life-changing.

When I tell people I know you, their first question is often, “How?” You played in the NFL while I was still in elementary school. You live in Texas. I have only visited the Lone Star state a few times. Our friendship came out of nowhere. It was 2017, and I was in bed randomly looking at LinkedIn when I saw a post about someone writing a letter to their younger self. I am unsure what made me read the story, but I clicked. The letter was so well-written and powerful. It was about your life story. You were the product of gang rape, and you shared your complicated relationship with your later mother. You mentioned something in that letter that you didn’t understand your mother’s reaction to her attack, but I could relate to her because I am also a survivor. So, I reached out to you to explain how my mind took time to process what had happened to me. I hoped that sharing my story would give you some clarity and peace.

You responded to me almost immediately, and I think we chatted on the phone the same night. Then, the Super Bowl was in Houston that year, and I was headed down. We met in person, and you told me you were friends with Sheryl Sandberg, the then-COO of Facebook. She had recently written a book about people who persevere and mentioned you in the book. You introduced me to Sheryl, who asked me to share my story on her website publicly. I couldn’t say no to Sheryl, which led me to write an open letter to sexual assault survivors independently. My letter changed my life. Besides freeing me from years of shame and angst, it inspired me to move to Florida and start my company, The Unsealed. The Unsealed is a platform where people can write and share open letters about overcoming adversity.

Through the years, we’ve remained friends, and you have shared your story on The Unsealed’s website and several of our weekly conversations with our community. You encourage me. You inspire me, and you believe in me.

While I know we’ll always be friends, I still think it’s crazy we even met in the first place. I rarely read articles I see on LinkedIn, if ever. And it is even less often that I reach out to its author. I genuinely believe whether it was fate, or maybe your mom up there pulling strings, or one of my late loved ones, that night that I was lying in bed skimming LinkedIn, there was a larger power play – using your story and our newfound friendship – to lead me to my purpose.

Forever grateful that the stars aligned,

Dear Wylie,

In 2012, I moved to Buffalo after receiving an offer to work as a sportscaster at a local station there. While I was excited about the opportunity, I was a little nervous about moving to a new city that I had never been to before my interview and where didn’t know a single soul. While I made friends quickly, within a couple of months of living there, I felt like there was a missing piece to my life in Buffalo. And that missing piece was you.

I had this strong urge to get a puppy. Besides college and a year or two before moving to Buffalo, I have always lived with at least one dog. While I searched far and wide for the perfect puppy, I ended up getting you from the same place my parents purchased your older sister, Cayley.

As soon as we met, we were inseparable. When you were a puppy, you never wanted to leave my side – so much so that you would cry when I was in the bath, and you would often try and hop in the shower with me. You never wanted to sleep alone, and somehow you managed to win the hearts of all my neighbors, so you were rarely ever home alone.

We’ve been together for ten years, and you have been by my side through many ups and downs. You’ve growled at the boys who broke my heart, and you cuddled with me every day during 2020 – a year mostly spent with just you and me because of a global pandemic. While you like to pee everywhere, marking your territory, and you try to make babies with my parents’ Maltese, Mia, I still love you so much.

You have brought so much love, warmth, and companionship to my life. You have been a part of my journey in ways I am sure I don’t even recognize. And while we have moved to three different cities and dealt with so many unexpected challenges, one constant throughout our last ten years is the love we show and have for each other.

Thanks for always having my back and giving me kisses on command.

I love you, WyWy

With lots of hugs and kisses,