*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 .

MIKAELA LAUREN TICK!

I WRITE A DAY LATE. YOUR BIRTHDAY was yesterday: LITERALLY, I AM a DAY LATE.

On July 27, 2014, you passed, PHYSICALLY; it was a rare HEART CONDITION. YOU HAVE A RARE HEART. A golden HEART. Check that, a 💜! (your FAV COLOR) and an attitude akin to an 🐘 with its tusks ⬆️. You had those up EVERYWHERE

EVERY SINGLE PERSON feels a DAY LATE, A DOLLAR SHORT occasionally and it was those moments that you INFUSED YOUR SMILE to LIFT THEIRS UP!

That SMILE FEELS PRICELESS to EVERYONE; it IS PRICELESS EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY SINGLE DAY, FLOWING WITH GENUINE and PURE LOVE no MATTER WHAT, BUT, LIFTING people’s TUSKS up is YOUR SUPERPOWER!

YOU LITERALLY took the OCCUPATION out of OCCUPATIONal therapy: VOLUNTEERING at St. Mary’s, and ALWAYS HOLDING HANDS with EVERYONE!

KALS LOVES HOLDING HANDS -especially for people with DIFFERENT ABILITIES: Camp HELPING HANDS is where it started!!

So PLEASE put YOUR “HAND IN THE JAR and give ANY AMOUNT of MONEY AND/ OR TIME

LY, ALWAYS!!

Until we meet again,

🐘 ⬆️

Jakey!

Credit: Picture from MLT’s Instagram Page

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 Father-In-Law,

I have had the pleasure of spending the last 11 years with your son as my life partner. We have had our ups and downs, that has not stopped us from enjoying our lives together. When I walked into your son’s life there wasn’t much he would talk about with me when it came to you because he was still in pain. I know it must have been hard knowing you were leaving him and your wife so soon in life.

While I know you only got to spend 9 years with him physically, I know you have been here for his whole life. I want to thank you for giving him something I never had the pleasure of experiencing, what a father is supposed to be. When he and I met I had children already and your 22 year old son took them as if they were his! He has given our children the best gift possible, the gift of having a father, something every child should have.

He has spent majority of his life going to school and building a career and he is excelling even beyond his expectations. He now has a Masters in Financial Analysis. He has become a major asset within the company he works for in FinTech. FinTech, is a major player in todays world and it is 100% where you would want him to be! Your son has the potential to run this world if he truly wants it.

He and I have been working on healing individually and together and you would be proud to know, that healing is trickling down the line. Our family has never been stronger! We are all learning to lean in and onto each other. I know the conversations you and your wife, him mama, my madrina, had in the past and I’m here to tell you she has kept every promise!

I know you moved into the spiritual world long before I came along but you have presented yourself to me before I even knew it was you. I know you walk closely to all of your grandchildren and you will never truly know how much that puts this mama bear at ease. Your grandson is named after you and he and Abualita are best friends! If you cant find one, look for the other.

Having the honor of watching him grow and be a small version of you and your son makes it me smile on the inside and out. I watch that little boy and get lost in how much I now know you because of him. Everyone tells me all of your traits they see in him; like when he walks around like El Hefe with his hands behind his back observing closely or when he puts his hand on his hips as if to show he is the man of the house. I know when your close because he will carry the same limp my husband’s siblings tell me you had.

Your money clip was given to my husbands brother when you passed because you two share a name. Well, he had your name taken off of the money clip and turned into a necklace for your grandsons second birthday. Your grandson, the opinionated boy he is, refused to wear it, so I wore it for a while. Thank you, the time I wore that necklace is the time I felt you the most. And during that time I felt like I was blessed enough to somehow get to know you the best.

It has been and continues to be an absolute honor being your sons wife and your grandchildren’s mother. I want you to rest easy knowing I’ve got them! I appreciate you continual protection and being there with them when I physically cant. Please know they are all safe and loved! Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to continue to remind them, especially your son, how proud you are of them!

You may be gone; however, you will never be forgotten. Take care of my Angel babies for me please.

With love and light,
Your Daughter-In-Law

A poetic/fictitious mixed short about greeting your melancholy with kindness and making your mind into a nice place to call home.
—–
The autumn flush bashfully comes in during this time of year. Traces of red and orange line the green just enough to give the sense that it might actually get colder than fifty, but it never does. Most of the homes in Tomales are farm-style. Less greek revival, more horse and buggy. Wrap around porches hug the treeline rooftops parallel to an unneeded chimney. Hummingbird feeders hang nectar on every doorstep like there might be a modern day Passover. I once even heard someone call their laundry closet an ‘alcove.’ The neighborhood is literally so pretentious and inviting that you can practically taste Grandma’s cookies underneath a family timeline of Stanford cap and gown photos.

Houses like that are meant to be shared. Mine is just for me.

There was a Victorian on the hill, half a mile south of the city limits. There were rumors about it. Ghost stories that were best left dismissed. With fresco painted ceilings and a view of the bay, I’d blindly bought in. The previous owner even left behind an old piano. I called it a steal.

Economically sound: the only type of echo I’d ever considered when buying the house. The first creaky floorboard fell through while I was carrying in the dishware. Termites. And if that wasn’t enough, the flip of the switch fried the chandelier’s circuit in one go. Ridiculous of me to expect the house to do more than look like the photos.

“Goddamnit.” I collapsed onto the piano bench for the first time. All of my boxes were just inside the hall. The air was stifled by thick humidity. I could feel myself getting sick in the first breath. Nobody had lived here in years. Perhaps no one was meant to.

I’d left the city to learn more about myself. My friends found it a bit extreme: “You’ll be all alone up there, away from the city.” Their voices carry through the thirty-two miles in between us. But, I’d never been alone before. Truly alone. There was always the buzz of life swarming me into a perpetual FOMO. And in some manic-state, I decided to discover the sensational melancholy that William Wordsworth wrote all of those poems about.

On the first night I’d been on the air mattress. That was when I decided that the air quality might be getting to me. Around one in the morning I woke up to the sound of my own floorboards giving in fours. The sounds of a horse. I thought myself to be crazy – exhausted from moving. But, when I peeked out the bedroom door into the hall – I saw it. A ghost-white Shire tiptoeing across the fragile wood.

The next morning, there were the slightest indentations in the floor. So faint, that suggesting a horse might be responsible was insane. Still, I called my mom to tell her the news. She suggested a hallucination remedy, a new brand of air filters, and sent over a list of psychologists – just in case.

Still, the horse visited me. New air filters and all. Nineteen hundred pounds creaking through the halls on four legs. Sometimes when we made late-night eye contact, the horse would spook and kick hind legs into the air. If it weren’t for all of the holes born in the walls – I’d pass it off as delirium. Too frightened to unpack and settle in, and more afraid to abandon the purchase: I’d tell myself one more day. I can do one more day here. And for days, the house remained as it was. Empty and unusable. Every night brought new holes in the hallway walls.

The ninth day, something changed. Call it boredom or insanity, but I went for a walk. The cookie cutter houses allured me in their simplicity. Transformation of a new perspective. With flower beds lining their white picket fences and patio furniture I felt a sense of inspiration to decorate my own lawn. Wandering down the street further, I found myself at the market.

“A single potted plant and a carrot?” The cashier chuckled briefly before a glance at the dark bags sunk under my eyes.

I set my plant up on the porch that day. The only unboxed item in two-thousand square feet. And while the house had a long way to go, it was something pleasant. Something small.

That night I set the single carrot outside my door, in hopes to soothe the fear of the Shire. And to my surprise, I slept through the night. Full of rest, my feet found the floor next to my air mattress and when I opened the bedroom door, the carrot was gone.

In a burst of unwearied energy, I unpacked the first box. Dishware. Some cups and plates chipped from the move, but the functionality remained in tact. I organized them neatly into the cupboard. At the bottom of the box was a glass vase, sized perfect for the window sill in the front hall. After placing it there, I left the house for another walk, this time hunting for the perfect flower.

There weren’t many wildflowers left, especially in such a domesticated area. But, I found one. Maybe nothing more than a weed. Yet, it looked like a daisy to me. It would do just fine.

That night I put the carrot further down from my room, closer to the front entrance and I went to bed, sleeping through another night peacefully. Many days went on like this – another box unpacked, a new plant adorning a canny corner, the horse reappearing at night to come and go. By what means – I do not know. Furniture was arriving. I was off the air mattress and into a real bed by the second week. The tent for the termites came and went – more affordable than I’d predicted. I wrote the check at my window, foliage draped over the glass in a perfect frame.

Yesterday on the phone with my mother, I accidentally called this place home.

It’s late October now. “Finally settling?” I read on the phone screen once more. I woke up early these days, in a routine to water my back porch plants. They’d become more like friends to me. And there the white Shire was, grazing through the green yard. My body paralyzed at first – remembering all of the fear caused. Besides, I’d almost finish patching the holes in the halls. Inching towards the creature, I held out my hand in a white flag.

I stroked the muzzle once. Then again.

***

You finally rested your head on my shoulder, and I named you Casper.

Our moments were never filled with fear again. We understood one another. You ruled acres of land and I had the Victorian. There were still the occasional spooks. Mangled hair and disagreements. But, I no longer lived alone.

Even if I never had to begin with.

***

A year has gone by now. It’s Halloween. And I’ve got Trick or Treaters. Football-sized ghosts and miniature princesses making the long haul up my driveway. The only monster in the house is inflatable, peering out the window next to the vase. The kids love it. So do I.

I baked for them this year, a recipe from Ms. Arnett. She lives in one of the homes off Kennedy – widowed at twenty-nine. We met through our gardens. Nicknamed ‘The Greenhouse’ my plant collection had grown into a jungle. Dutch bulbs lit up the yard in frenzied patterns. I coined myself Queen Wilhelmina, but the kids don’t quite get that one. Ms. Arnett stopped by to chat about an idea she’d had for her tulips. We forgot to finish that conversation, two pots of tea later. We’re always forgetting, it seems.

Casper’s dressed as a reindeer this year. The kids feed her carrots I picked up from the market and she takes them tamely. Gratefully even.

When the night grows late I find myself candle-lit at the piano. A new thing I’m learning. With my shadow dancing off-key to my chorus, I remind myself that I’m learning.

I really am.

This was the morning that my mother’s body finally gave out from battling multiple forms of cancer since her diagnosis. Cancer never took her smile, sense of humor or her positive attitude even while battling this disease at the same time as my 16 year old sister from 1996 until my mom’s passing in 97. Having my sister in my life made figuring out how to adapt to life without being her son a less challenging journey. I had hoped we’d have more time to figure this out together but unfortunately my sister’s cancer journey was leading her closer to being with my mom again instead of the path I was learning to navigate. God’s plan was greater than ours when my sister passed from her battle in April of 2000. What I’ve learned over the years since then is that so many of us with our families, friends, and other loved ones have had their own unique stories of how this disease has altered their lives. I’m always very deeply touched when I hear the success stories of those who are or have battled their own battles and have came out the other side as survivors! Hearing that gives me hope for the present and future. As millions of dollars continue to go into cancer research for treatments I pray for a cure for all cancers in my lifetime. What I feel is as important if not more is that I want much more effort to be done to find the actual causes to this disease especially for what is approved by the FDA for what’s in the food we eat and what we drink. I feel this would be a major step forward in minimizing the amount of causes by eliminating some of their sources to begin with. All I wish is that we’d attack the cause as much as we do the cure. If this would save even one more person It’d be worth it.

I’m thankful to choose to celebrate my mom’s life today as I have in many year’s past. I spent 23 years with her influencing my life by being here and now 25 years remembering her memories and lessons that she taught me. I’ve adjusted away from grief years ago because it’s better for your mental health to let it go if you’re ready too. Choose to be happy because that’s what time was like with them so why would they want me to be any different without them? I’d hope if you’ve read this far down that the sharing of this story can help you move past your own loss. At some point you have to be willing to put the heavy weight of grief down behind you and move forward. I think the greatest gift we can give the one’s we’ve lost is to honor them with appreciation of our own lives that we’re blessed to wake up with today. Our reason to exist today is to simply make a positive impact on each other’s lives in community. If you can do that very thing then we are truly getting value out of our purpose for living. With that being said, have fun doing it!