*Disclaimer- There is reference to suicidal ideation- if you’re suffering please seek out help or call the suicide prevention hotline emergency number, 988.

Dear Angus,

I’m sorry this letter couldn’t make it to you. I know for certain that it does not find you well. If this letter could reach Heaven- I’d say “Sorry dude- I’ve never watched Euphoria.” I’d assume you’d think “fake fan.” LOL.

Your personal friends and family can attest to your attributes far better than me. So, I’ll just say this. When you took your life- it didn’t just hurt you. It hurt everyone who knew you, knew your name, and loved you. This letter is not to condemn your actions but to anyone who feels the same as you.

I don’t know the details surrounding your death (& don’t care to quite frankly) but I imagine you were quite scared, upset, and angry. The mind can play tricks on us in our low moments. Like saying that nothing even matters, what is there to live for now? For me, I try to counsel myself by saying this is all temporary. As in, “this too shall pass” (2 Corinthians 4:17).

My heart goes out to your Mom and close friends. May God rest your soul. You are gone but never forgotten! 🕊️

Sincerely,

Victoria

I wanted to write an introduction to this piece because this is not about one, it’s about a few of my family members that have passed.

To the lost and the lonely:
When I think of you I think of all of the obstacles that you’ve overcome in Your short life and the inspiration and sadness you left behind. Every one of you have inspired me whether it be suicide or a drug overdose I wonder, You checked out early. the Saddened reality of life starts to wash over your emotions, comes in slowly but fiercely Your conscience tells you no, but your mental state overpowers, give me one good reason why I had to stay here when you all took the easy way out and were able to let yourself be free finally. It’s not an honor to live anymore, You are honored in death they’ll whisper at your funeral, “how could she do that to her own children” “why didn’t anybody say anything”The blame, the grief, the sadness, the regret what could have been and what actually was.
Did it feel freeing at the bridge where you decided to take the inevitable dive? Did all your memories come flashing before your eyes like they say? Or was it just a jump into nice cold water letting go of everything you couldn’t stop?
Did you choke on all the pills that you took? were you able to feel any remorse before it took you over? did you think about your family before the inevitable? were you able to realize what you You couldn’t before? did you feel safe? were you cold?
Did you ever think that someone would be writing this about you thinking about you wondering you’re feelings maybe you thought no one wondered before I can only imagine what courage it took for you to take the final jump or injest the last pill that did you in. Do you feel the same about things now that you’ve passed do you have any regrets where do you think this was the best thing for you. Sometimes I contemplate doing the same but suicide and overdoses are made for people who are scared to face their problems maybe I am afraid Would anybody stop me? Would anybody care? Or would people just say they already knew that this was going to happen to me, because of the turmoil I grew up with Time does carry on when we don’t I guess it’s stronger than us It’s the only thing that keeps going when everything else stops.

Dear Mikaela LAUREN tick.

Today is the 10-year anniversary of which you PHYSICALLY passed.

Whenever I talk about you it’s ALWAYS in the PRESENT TENSE because I KNOW that you are ALWAYS guiding me down the hill , “looking down” on me, BUT that is the EXACT OPPOSITE. You look UP to me because of the thing that I fear people look down on me for.

As I go into the work force, I worry that no matter how sharply I dress, my Wobble will force me to immediately turn around – hey that rhymes😂

I know that you are there with me, telling me,“You are the one that needs to walk that frame of mind out the door!” I slowly have by writing about my disability.

Losing you physically will never become clear to me; it is clear as day that you are with me by this telling story.

Several months ago – maybe a year, I went out with Aunt Debbie and started telling her my struggles to feed myself the confidence I needed. On her suggest, I started following this on Instagram.

One day, while waiting for the bus to go skiing, a favorite activity of ours, I scrolled through my account and saw she was being interviewed on this platform, The Unsealed.

The platform turned out to be run by a woman named LAUREN, a former Sports Journalist, who created it to allow people such as myself, to tell their stories.

I JOINED and every since, I’ve been UNSEALING stories about my disability and life AND you bet THIS is GOING UP THEIR!

Please consider donating ANY AMOUNT of $$ to help Mikaela’s mission and the reason she IS an OT, SEEING the ABILITY in people!
The link is on my Instagram and Facebook bio!

LOVE YOU,🐘

JAKEY💜

Dear Daddy,
My earliest memory of you was getting a goodbye kiss in the morning before you would go off to work. I would have my head on the pillow and you leaned down, gave me a kiss on the cheek and say I will see you tonight. I was the oldest of 3 girls so I had some special alone time with you. For example, when I was about 8 years old you took me to work with you. It was very exciting to spend a whole day with you and have you all to myself.
I have so many beautiful memories because I was blessed to have you for 66 years. Not many people live to that age and can say they still have their Dad. Well I am older now and I have lost you and it now there is a void in my life.You were always my sweet daddy. The man I looked to with love and admiration. I am so glad I was always able to express to you these feelings. You are the reason I am, what I consider, a good person.
Well life goes on. My children are older and are very good people. They are both hard workers and have good hearts. I have a grandson now. Thank you for giving me so many opportunities in life. You worked hard for your family and your sacrifices are appreciated every day. I was given a great blessing to have you as my father. My loving daddy Calvin David Kalstein, my WW2 navy hero.
Love, Your forever adoring daughter,

Dear Grandpa,

It’s been nearly 25 years since I last saw you, and what I remember most about you is how you made me feel. Whether at dinner on the holidays, playing cards, or sitting in your living room telling stories, you lived with a joy and zest for life that was so effortless, natural, and contagious.

Growing up, you were very athletic, just like me. So when I would tell you about the plays I made or the goals I scored, you’d say, “That’s my little athlete,” knowing I got my athletic prowess from you. I was very outgoing as a child, telling a stranger my whole life story within the first five minutes of meeting them. Since you were not short of personality at any point in your life, you’d always say, with a grin, “We know where that one came from.”

When I was around you, I always felt like you loved and believed in me and were proud that I was your granddaughter. Grandpa, you always made me happy, and you always made me smile.

For many years, you had health problems: diabetes, cancer, and heart problems. During the fall of my first year of high school, you had what felt like your 10th heart attack and passed away the Friday after Thanksgiving. I was devastated. Your death was the first time I lost someone close to me. But I pressed on.

For years, you told me the rain was good luck. So, to cope, I looked for rain to stay connected to you – a way to know you were still there. Sure enough, it rained on the day I graduated from high school. On August 15th, 2012, which would have been your 85th birthday, I was offered my first full-time on-air sports anchor/reporter job. It was pouring outside. And more recently, when I met my boyfriend, who treats me so well and makes me laugh, I asked what his name meant. When he said he didn’t know, I looked it up. His name means the God of Rain.

With all my heart, Grandpa, I believe you are watching over me. You know I became a sportscaster, and you love that I started a business that advocates for kindness, courage, and equality. You are so overjoyed about the quality of my new boyfriend’s character, and you think it’s funny how my dog doesn’t let anyone within three feet of me. In fact, I think you may have something to do with that.

So more than telling you that I miss you or even that I love you, what I want you to know is how you made me feel when I was a little girl is how you make me feel now.

Thank you for still making me smile. Thank you for still making me happy.

Love your little athlete,

When I moved here, I didn’t know myself. I certainly didn’t love myself. I don’t like to think that it took losing you for those things to happen, but I know that for a long, long time, you were my only trans friend— or you and your husband were, until you both died, the same night, in one another’s arms, nine years ago. I know that when you died my own trans baby was only five and still becoming an idea of a person. I wasn’t ready to face my grief over you or any grief over the trauma of my past. I felt like motherhood was the only way I could survive being trans and alone in the world. And then, their little hand tendrilled into mine like a vine and they came out when they were seven. When I fought for resources for them, I found a way to get a little of what I needed, too. Mateo, my friend, my confidante, my comrade, my dreamer, my laughter, my spark, I feel like you would understand these dark times we are facing right now and how much I miss you. You gave me permission to find warmth in the sunshine, roots in the earth, solace in the water, and breath in the air. I took this winter to grieve you and your husband, and so many other people and moments I have lost. I am planning now on how to take the rest of my life to thrive. I feel at peace in this way, this moment before the bloom. I feel so much gratitude for how your life gave me life, always. You did not fight for any of us in vain. I still wear gold shoes and black eyeliner, for you. Always love, always the trans flag and the chin up. We do not have the luxury of shame. I believe in us.

I don’t think I believe in heaven or hell much anymore . My beliefs are iffy . Why do I have to choose one thing , I won’t .. I don’t know where you are but the place I imagine is in a beautiful place with no pain no hurt . You have a big drum set & you’re playing and smiling and happy and okay . It’s been almost 10 months since I lost my brother , the closest person in my life . I’m starting to feel it more , I hope to feel your presence one of these days , I don’t know if you’re with me . I don’t know if you’ve thought about me , I barely know what to say half of the time . I try to order a margarita everytime I go out but it hasn’t been much . I’ve been alone since you left , I am alone . I wish you would’ve tried again . The day after you killed yourself do you wake up and watch me cry , watched your mom not be able to breathe , watch the dog be confused where you went . It’s crazy how life can continue to move on without you here . I love you forever . Grief is finally sneaking up on me , I can’t even speak about you with my eyes tearing up . I could 9 months ago . I could say it all , now I can’t . I don’t know why : I hope there’s a beautiful drumline in the sky . I hope you’re in paradise D .