Dear Ashley,

I never told you this, but I appreciate your endurance. I wanted to write this letter to thank you for showing me that heartache and pain doesn’t last forever. Back then, he took away our innocence and caused us to be in a dark place. He left us unprotected, alone and afraid. For years we looked over our shoulders and hid from our nightmares, afraid that the boogeyman would come back for us. Somehow, one day, the nightmares faded until they disappeared. Each day since then, you showed me how the pieces of our life should fit again. I remember the fear and terror in our eyes, but it has been replaced with the glimmer of hope shining through.
Thank you for teaching me how to fly. When the heat is rising, all we have to do is spread our wings and fly above the fire. I won’t burn because of you and my scars have healed because you learned how to overcome it. The song that’s written in my heart can flow freely.
Thank you for liberating my mind so I am no longer a slave to the prison of my imaginations. I can exist in a space of wholeness and peace. There is hope here, and fear cannot abide.
I’ll wrap this up by saying thank you for giving life a chance, when the opportunity came to give up and end it all, you pressed through and gave us another chance. Thank you for enduring until our last breath.

Sincerely,
Me

I am writing this letter to remind you that you are an unstoppable warrior, that you are the living image of perseverance, resilience, and humility. I thank you because you have navigated turbulent currents and have never stopped rowing. You are so important to your family and friends that you sometimes forget the meaning of your existence. Thank you for that big and kind heart that God gave you, and above all, thank you for putting into practice those gifts that God placed in your being.
Dear me, always learn to value each of your achievements, because they all deserve to be recognized and applauded. Thank you for your daily struggle and for contributing to forming a better world. I thank you and congratulate you for your tireless spirit. You are truly admirable.
You have gone through dark and gloomy times when there was no light at the end of the tunnel, and thanks to your faith and strength, you overcame every adversity. Thank you for finding that light at the end of the tunnel, where your inner self told you that it was the right thing to do at that time.
Thank you for that humanism that characterizes you. You have a heart of gold, always willing to help without receiving anything in return. Thank you for that divine spark that you reflect in the lives of those around you.
Beloved, you are unique. Thank you for every act of love that you have performed for others. Thank you for not letting anyone extinguish that inner light that you carry within your being.
Thanks for being a genuine inspiration to others. You inspire people to do better, to make a better effort, to appreciate the little things that truly bring permanent joy. Thank you, my dear, for being the most humble, compassionate, and authentic person in the world. Thank you for being the smile to others suffering in pain.
Thank you for being the wonderful mother, the perfect daughter, the exceptional wife that some people found in me. Thank you for anticipating every need. Thank you for forgetting your needs and putting aside your desires to make the time and effort to prioritize others first. Thank you for being an accountable person. Your value is infinite, and your presence is invaluable.
Thank you, my dear, for being a kind, spiritual, and generous soul. Your magnetic presence attracts amazing people into your life. Thank you for your help to those in need. Your perseverance is unmatched.
Thank you, my dear me, for sharing those wonderful dishes with the people you love the most. You delight them with your exquisite culinary skills. Thank you for making them enjoy every gift of yours.
Thank myself for feeding the poor, the unwanted, the hungry, the forgotten people that nobody cares about. Thank you for taking the time, effort, love, and initiative to think about others in need. Thank you for finding those people and having the opportunity to make a difference for them. Thank you for acting in their favor. Thanks for thinking of them. They appreciate your presence, food, and help.
Thank you, my dear self, for being patient in moments of despair and uncertainty. Your patience has allowed God to work in your favor and give you victory. Thank you for being that wrestling woman who breaks down limitations and shows the world that willpower is power, even if you find yourself in the worst circumstances.
Thank you to life for letting me guide, listen to, and comfort sad souls. Thank you for letting me be in the right place at the right time. Thank you for finding those kind words to express to others in sadness, and thank you for being their peace and faith in moments of frustration. I’m pretty sure the Lord helped me. Thank you, God, for that.
Dear, lastly, I want to thank you for doing your best in everything you undertake. You are a clear human example that the limits are only in the head. Thank you for overcoming cultural and language barriers to show that you are a special and intelligent being with an amazing mind. Thank you for those spectacular ideas that have resulted in incredible outcomes. I simply want to say:
Thank you for existing.

I wanna say thank you to me, my forever love and best friend.
You are a rarity none the less. Though we are a complex species to the beings of this world,
In our dimension we mirror gaze inside the double phantom crystal ball that expands inward as if we are some sort of device like a kaleidoc terrarium .
“Knowing that she who smiles back carries more inner beauty , than a quiet walk through a never ending gallery at mid night”.
with halls of ART that stretch in a curvature of explosive colors that are mystique,
In so many words ,.. I wanna thank me for being unique with a blush tone of mysterious Chic.
Like the luminescent gleam that smolders in the shadows of the nebula that stands stuck in the middle of the universes black hole.
I am – bleeding love at the center point.
Meaning I appreciate my shadows that create rainbows like paint to my depth.
A tidal wave of intellect like an ancient farer at sea who aimlessly pondering over the bow of her boat. And over in the waters, lies her mind scrying in the ocean as if its a vast canvas reflecting a light show.
the sparkles from the night, help connect the stars from down below that reflect from her , like a cosmo of fires from up high as i rearrange the light glow with a seashell, like tic tack toe.
Damn,… I wanna say Thank you for your wild thought of an imagination. A safety net from the cumbersome world that we run from , to disconnect and save face as we escape.
I love that we shelter each other from the noise outside as we create movies on the inside with vivid projectors as we roam the portals of divinity to our sacred sensuality , that only you and I are invited too … “ I wanna say Thank you for being my rescue.”
Like timeless music, Your are the lovers rock i cling to in a storm , you sing to me like Sade when she hums and says these words in that one song, “ I will be your friend Til the end of time, I will be your friend, Im here to make you smile … In the mirror face to face as we Sing with a smile as we lock eyes”.
The words in those songs seem to be more like scriptures of the future from you to me at this present as we tango the timeline of this paradigm.
“ I wanna say thank you my love, for always being by my side”
The God in you speaks to me that keeps me going and living with hopes of seeing your eyes every sunrise.
My Partner for life
“Thank you for teaching me how to love, and how to speak up and protect the self. You showed me my worth when my faith in others were failed”

Yours truly with deep love and admiration ,
Always and forever

~ Your Mirror

Dear (Younger) Jody,
It is often said that youth is wasted on the young. I also say that wisdom can sometimes be wasted on the old. So thank you, Old Jody, for wising up, even at this late date.

I say that because I’m no longer trying to deny the scuff marks left by passing years. I can also say that because the epiphanies that seem to hit me at 3:00 in the morning often involve people who have been dead for many years. And my sudden bursts of insight frequently reveal that if I had not been so reluctant to avoid seeming impolite or confrontational, my life could have been spared some very unpleasant side trips.

Why didn’t I tell the seafood restaurant owner in the little New England town that requiring me to wipe his sweaty back with a paper table cover before he’d give me my final paycheck – the one that would get me home again – I would tell the hostess, who was his daughter? And I was very sure that because she was Greek, her mother also would be very interested in how he was treating the youngest of his summer employees. As it was, I got my final check and I made it home, but I have also had the “icks” for the past 55 years whenever I think of him. I’m sure he’s dead now. If he isn’t, he deserves to be.

And when I got a “real” job — why did I just accept that I was paid considerably less than my male counterparts – even ones I was training to do the same job I had? I do remember asking the HR director why, and he said that women weren’t the breadwinners and men had to support their families. Besides, it was state law. I was still very young, although I was beginning to get the first glow of a white-hot anger.

Why did I go ahead with a marriage I was quietly afraid was going to be unhappy because I didn’t want to disappoint all the people who had invested emotionally and financially in pushing me down the aisle with a man who didn’t love me, even though he pretended that he did? Why didn’t I just refuse to go ahead with anything, pack a bag, and leave town? I eventually had to disappear anyway, but only after I’d lost what was left of my self-worth and belief in true love. And after he’d tried to kill me. There was that, too.

And years later after I married a good man, why did I let the leaders of our local school’s PTA pile work on me, yet not invite me to their bunco games and their holiday cookie exchanges? Why didn’t I tell the ladies in their expensive Christmas sweaters to take their fundraisers and their mini-vans and go straight to where no jingle bells had ever jingled? Why did I care if I offended these women? They did little else but offend me.

And now that I am old, why do I remain silent when somebody runs up the backs of my heels with their shopping cart at the store when I pause to try to reach something? I have quit apologizing, which I suppose is progress. But there was a time when I would have said to somebody driving into my flesh, “Oh, excuse me.”

Why? Why? Why?

So here is what is going to make the rest of my life so much better, even if I don’t make it to Super Bowl 2025. I’m going to remain civilized, dignified, and courteous because those are characteristics I value in myself, and others.

However, I will NOT be so damned polite to the ones who have no respect for my worth, or the worth of any of my aging companions on this final winding road of life. I will raise what is left of my voice, and my fist if my shoulder will let me, and say, “No!”

You deserve better, and always have. Thank you for finally coming to that realization.

Old Jody

Dear Lillian,
Thank you for being a warrior.
Thank you for your resilience, willingness, patience, bravery and determination.
Thank you for continuing to fight for yourself through the times you didn’t know if you could pull through.
Thank you for learning to love yourself, or learning to be gentle with yourself when you still don’t know how to entirely.
Thank you for learning how to give yourself grace, release shame, and open up space within your heart for honesty and vulnerability.
Thank you for turning around when all you wanted to do was run away.
Thank you for facing your most terrifying battles, not fearlessly but with strength pushing you through the pain.
You were so scared of the dark, yet you chose to walk through it because of your faith that the light was just hiding.
I am so proud of you for that.
Sometimes you forget how hard you’ve fought to get here.
You’ve blossomed in ways you would have never imagined.
Thank you for being a warrior.

Strength is recognized in the moments that our muscles are forced to exert themselves.
When no one is around to help you move that boulder, you must find it within yourself, or you remain stagnant.
In those moments dread coils in your stomach and your eyes wander to your surroundings
You peer down at your frail arms, wondering what strength could possibly lie beneath your skin.
If luck does not evade you, then those moments are few and seemingly life-changing.
It seems, though, that those moments are never-ending for me.
I haven’t had a moment to be weak; I survived not by chance, but by will.
From a young age, trauma has held my hand, grinding my bones beneath its grip and forcing me to writhe in pain.
The little memory that has not hidden itself in the crevasses of my mind plays beneath my eyes, reminding me all that I have survived.
The only word that comes to mind in the presence of such memories is gratitude.
Oh how much I have endured but so inspiringly survived.
Who I am today was forged by every moment of my past.
I am kind and willing to give my last to anyone who needs. Thanks to the depravity of simple nourishments throughout my childhood, how could I turn a blind eye now to those who want as desperately as I did?
I am patient and always available to listen, no matter how seemingly trivial it may seem. Thanks to no one listening while I screamed, how could I now plug my ears as I watch someone strain their throat, begging for anyone to pay attention, just as I did?
I am not defined by what I have endured, but it is the derivative of my strength. I am thankful for all that broke me; I do not look upon my past with disgust but instead with wonder. I am strength, I am resilience. I am grateful for having endured hell and remaining gentle despite it.

Dear Richard Smith,
This may sound strange to hear this coming from myself but, dude… I’m so proud of you. I never relish in our successes but, for once I’m telling you, “You did good kid and I am proud of you.”
Patience, resilience, and strength are the traits you embody. As a child, you were diagnosed with type 1 diabetes which led to a kidney disease diagnosis in 2019. Because of this, your battle with sobriety ended and you’ve refused to go back since. Then, as the world shut down in 2020 so did your kidneys and dialysis became your purgatory.
Breaking down in every way led to a seizure and 4 days on life support. With a knee injury during the seizure, you were now using wheelchairs.
Dialysis appointments 3 times a week for 4 hours draining your life and weakening your bones combined with constant knee biopsies was your routine. Your routine left you without a knee and you still carried on.
Now with rods for a knee and fear of leaving this party you call life early you pursued a kidney transplant. The many dreams of the life you wanted kept you fighting. Constantly being added and removed from the transplant list caused mental torture. Being diabetic made healing impossible.
When this began we knew life wouldn’t be the same but never did you expect your worst nightmares to manifest. December 2022, something very wrong was occurring. You couldn’t remember the last thing you said, unable to think, express, and exist; the rods were destroying your foot and you were going into sepsis. All of your life you’d say, “If I were to my leg I’d kill myself.” In that doctor’s office, you were told, “ Keep your leg and die or amputate and live.” Not accomplishing your dreams, unspoken thoughts, words, and actions flooded your mind. That day you chose life.
Waking up from the worst pain imaginable, a new Richard Smith sprouted. Now full of life, laughter, motivation, and gratitude, this new chapter became your opportunity to turn this loss into a win. A lifelong dream of being able to trek Japan was your fuel to walk again. Through your amputation you learned how to adapt, and think differently; every obstacle was a challenge, every failure was a lesson learned, and every setback was a bump in the road. Health-wise you stabilized.
In June 2023 you started learning to walk again. The next mission? Conquer kidney disease. Back on the transplant list, a few more challenges arose. Through losing vision in your right eye in October and breaking your ribs from prosthetic training you were dropped from the list again. Feeling defeated and half blind the future looked dark. Giving into the fear in February 2024 you went to tell the dialysis center to end your life-saving treatments.
Something in your core wouldn’t allow it. Giving the transplant list one last shot they required you to be able to walk. Within a month you surpassed the test. In May 2024, listed once again your sister tested to donate her kidney to you. To your amazement, she was a perfect match! Things accelerated and a surgery date was set: September 4th, 2024.
Since the transplant our health has been the best it’s ever been, we walk all the time! No wheelchairs!! We live life with the biggest smile, pure happiness in our heart, and absolute gratitude to exist in this moment. After 5 years of dialysis, many near-death experiences, emergency room visits, amputations, and going half blind I know I can overcome whatever challenges I face. Although we have half of our vision and one leg we see the beauty and light in life and continue moving forward one step at a time.
Through our resilience, positivity, and determination I’m able to say, “You did good kid and I am proud of you!”

It’s not a secret that healing is not linear.
It is, actually, a bunch of scattered dots.
Upon connecting them, I should see meaning.
But the picture is still not clear at all.

All I see are reasons proving I was never enough.
The things I learned to forsake because I always got a “no”.
Pleads that now seem simple—not a big ask anymore.
Maybe the problem was I didn’t deserve love.

At least, that is what I was brought to believe,
Through the silence of my unanswered questions.
It’ll take a while to unpack the weight of all these years—
The jokes at my expense, and the hurtful comparisons.

At times, I felt fine in my heart; then, I’d feel devastated.
I would smile, then end up crying at a corner café.
Complaining to my friends became a commonplace.
I learned to disassociate as a means for self-defense.

My ego was fragile and I was reminded to tread lightly,
Since, from war, I did not emerge victorious.
Even in the clearest skies, rain is still likely.
Those words were a mantra for this humble warrior.

Underestimating the passage of time would be unfair.
Some scars are still visible, but at least they no longer bleed.
I was always ill-prepared for life’s deadly game—
In the aftermath of choosing me I felt too weak.

Today, I am no longer overburdened by intrusive thoughts.
I am thankful to the old me for making me who I am now—
So brave inside, yet so soft still to the outside world.
I have grown a little cynical, but perhaps this, too, is healing somehow.

Dear Loleita,
It has taken me a long time to write this letter, but I would be remised if I didn’t do it now. I know that you are shy when it comes to displays of affections or gratitude, and that you are not particularly fond of self-praise or boasting about your achievements. But I want to personally thank you for not letting the words/phrase “You can’t do it” stop you from becoming the person who you are.
I remember one of the first times you were told “You can’t do it” was when you wanted to go down a slide at a park that you and your sisters passed every day on the way home from elementary school. The slide had a plank missing from the platform and to get to the slide, one had to jump over the missing plank. Your sisters told you, “You can’t do it, you’re too small”; but did you listen? No. You climbed the ladder, stepped on the first plank on the platform, took a deep breath, and jumped over the missing plank. You made it over the missing plank and over the slide. You fell to the ground, falling and landing on your right arm, which was later found to be broken. Not only could you do it, you over excelled. The cast on your arm was proof that you could do it. The cast and broken bone would be the first of many “awards or trophy symbolisms” that would document, acknowledge, and recognize your accomplishments that you, in fact, could do it – whatever it was.
Another “award or trophy symbolism” that signaled that you could do it, that you added to your collection, was stitches. They were “awarded” when you, your sisters, and your cousins were playing baseball in the house because it was raining outside. Even though athleticism wasn’t one of your strong attributes, you didn’t let that deter you from participating in the game. When it was your turn at bat, you confidently took the bat and stood determinately on the makeshift mound regardless of all the booing and heckling and cries of “You can’t do it”. The ball was thrown, you took a deep breath and swung. To your, and everyone else’s amazement, you hit the ball. You rounded the pillow bases while the other team scrambled to get the ball. You made it to first, second, and third base. But on the way to home plate, you had to slide to make it. You made it, but in doing so, you slid into an end table causing a gash under your right eye that required 11 stitches.

The broken bones and stitches “award or trophy symbolisms” soon turned to plastic as you grew older. When signing up for a musical instrument in junior high school, all the supposedly “girly” instruments were suggested to you, such as the flute or the clarinet. One of your best guy friends, who played the drums, told you, “You can’t play the drums, the drums are only for guys.” Right then and there, you took a deep breath, and you signed up to play the drums. You had to start at the bottom and work your way up. You played the bass drum, which was bigger than you were, joined the marching band, and carried and played the heavy bass drum for miles through the streets of your hometown. This proved that you, a girl, could in fact “do it” and play the drums. This led to being promoted to playing the snare drum – the holy grail of drums. You were also “awarded” your nickname, “Ladybug”. Ladybugs are believed to represent adaptability, positive change, resilience and metamorphosis. Ladybug signed up for band competitions and made it to the State Championships where she finished and received a second-place plastic trophy.
Eventually, the plastic trophies turned into paper: diplomas, certifications, awards, and notifications; from graduating from high school and university, to earning certifications and awards specializing in your career field, and to getting notified that you had beat cancer.
Now, I have come to the realization that the “award or trophy symbolisms” that documented, acknowledged, and recognized your accomplishments aren’t the tangible things such as the actual physical plastic trophies, paper awards, or even the visible scars from wounds, surgeries, or stitches. Instead, it is the self-assurance that you had deep with inside yourself that propelled you to accomplish sometimes the impossible or sometimes what was needed. You did not hold your breath waiting for someone else to do things for you. Instead, you breathed in the world and ignited the match that lit the determination “can do” fire from within.
As I take a deep breath, I say, “You CAN do it and thank you.”

Thankfully,
Ladybug