Dear Grandma,

She believed she could, so she did.

I remember the palm-sized wall art of this quote you gifted me and its journey. Lost years ago, as we were cleaning out your house, it lives now only in my mind. My thoughts can easily travel back to when you gave it to me.

Back in time, a knock sounded at my door as I decorated my desk with crystals and a photograph of my boyfriend and me.

“Someone’s here to see you,” the office manager told me.

As I turned toward the door, I saw you in a bright blue pantsuit that matched your vibrant personality.

“Grandma!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

I recall your embrace and wish I could return to that hug.

You stepped back, examining me. “I heard you started working here and saw this little sign. It reminded me of you, and I thought it could inspire you on your desk.”

Reading the sign aloud, “She believed she could, so she did,” I couldn’t help but reflect on my career aspirations. I always had different plans for my life than answering phones at a plumbing company. It’s essential work but not the path I’d always wanted to take.

On this day, your kind eyes had a hint of sadness beneath them. You’d just lost the love of your life: your husband and my Papa. After his passing, all of our smiles contained a tinge of sadness. The love among us all was magic, but the magic had lost some spark.

When you love big, you lose big.

As this memory fades, I transport myself to the next part of the sign’s journey. I wish I had asked you to stay for a moment longer.

I was walking into your hospital room, which had become your new home after brain surgery.

Hoping you would remember me that day, I reached for your hands as I sat before you.

“Hi, Grandma,” I said in a gentle tone. “I brought you something.” Pulling the sign out from my back, I displayed it for you.

She believed she could, so she did.

I placed the art on the ledge below your window. “Do you remember when you gave me this sign when I started a new job? I think you need it more now. Maybe if you see it by your window every day, it will help.”

I’ll never know if the sign helped you, but the dreamer in me hopes it brought you peace.

I hope it reminded you of the enduring love you and Papa created. You both made a legacy that will continue past your deaths. You brought love and unbreakable bonds into the world, which is magic in a time of such division.

They say we take nothing when we pass, but I don’t think the sentiment is always true.
Sometimes, we take a little piece of the hearts of those we left behind.

As we celebrate holidays without you now, I know our hearts are emptier than before. We attempted to fill the void when we chose our favorite belongings from your house to put in our homes. Books to sit on our shelves, decorations to live on our mantles, and Christmas ribbon to decorate our trees. These shared memories and belongings connect us, even in your absence.

We all think of you as we decorate our trees with your Christmas ornaments. The endless love you gave us stamped our hearts like a tattoo, and your signature phrases have become our own.

We’ll teach our kids what you taught all of us.

“Stick together.”

“Love each other through anything – through everything.”

We’ll all fill our children’s and grandchildren’s hearts like you filled ours.

It’s our job now to continue the magic you created and reignite the spark.

We’ll do it because we believe we can, and we believe we should.

I like to think you were greeted by Papa and your dad when you fell asleep for the last time.

When I take my last breath, I hope you greet me.

I’ll smile and tell you: “Grandma, I believed I could, so I did.”

Love,
Rachael

Dear World,

It’s hard to choose my most impactful life lesson, as I’ve had plenty thus far. Sometimes, I feel as if my lessons up until this point could fit into an entire lifetime for someone else. I know they’ve all been necessary for my evolution because I believe a significant reason our souls are here is to learn, grow, and evolve into a wiser version of ourselves.

Adversity in life can diminish us to ashes, but we can choose to rise into a more empowered state. Multiple moments in my life have felt like the death of my old self and the rebirth of a new version of me.

I’ve learned the importance of compassion, kindness, respect, consent, and the necessity for authenticity, even if people around you disapprove. To be true to yourself is to respect yourself.

Anxiety, rumination, and incessant negative words to myself have taught me to give myself compassion, even when it’s challenging. I must habitually interrupt negative thoughts and redirect my mind toward the door of kindness. Being my own best friend has been vital.

Learning to hold space for my pain has been pertinent as I’ve navigated people telling me that my pain is unimportant and minuscule, even though it isn’t. Mine isn’t, and yours isn’t. Our pain matters, and we must create a safe emotional space. I must honor my pain even if the world doesn’t care. You also must honor yours.

I’ve learned it’s okay to feel uncomfortable and state if I don’t consent. Whether or not it matters to anyone else, it matters to me.

I’ve learned that it’s okay to feel how I feel, even if others wish I felt differently. It’s alright to be sensitive; the world needs more sensitivity because compassion comes with it.

I’ve learned the importance of self-forgiveness. I have made mistakes throughout my life, and I imagine I’ll continue to. Giving ourselves grace and recognizing the lessons that come with our errors is essential. Most importantly, we must wake up the next day and try again.

I’ve learned that if people disrespect me, I must counteract that disrespect with kindness toward another while keeping a boundary with the person who disrespected me.

All of these have been vital lessons for me thus far, and I imagine I’ll learn many more, but one lesson has reared its beautiful head amongst all the rest:

SPEAK

In a world that wants me to be quiet, I must speak.
In a world that wants me to follow the status quo, I must speak.
In a world that wants me to keep its secrets, I must speak.
In a world that wants me to hide myself to keep someone else content, I must speak.

Maybe this isn’t your most significant life lesson, but it’s mine, and I ask you to consider it. The world wants us to pretend we’re fine while crumbling inside. In my experience, the world wants us to remain quiet while people disrespect us. People expect us to allow this disrespect because God forbid we tell someone we don’t like their behavior. They’d have to look at themselves if we spoke up.

Too bad, I say. It’s time to look.

I learned to accept and use my voice by allowing people to disrespect me, tell me my feelings don’t matter, tell me I’m not allowed to feel them, and tell me I should be quiet.

I learned this as I lost sleep at night, wondering why the world wanted me to hide my feelings and myself.

I learned it when I said yes to things I wanted to say no to and when I said nothing when I wished to object.

I learned it when I was looked in the eye and told my feelings and pain don’t matter.

I learned it when I finally asked myself who was holding me back: the world or my own fears.

I will no longer cater to the world, protect people from what they don’t want to hear, or play politics in a world that desperately needs humility and authenticity.

I will learn from my mistakes, as I have in the past.

As I do so, I will speak.

Will you speak?

I want to hear you,
Rachael

Dear Reader,

While making his first day of school sign for 2nd grade, my son shared what he wants to be when he grows up. I didn’t hear him, and when I asked him to repeat what he had said, I could see embarrassment rise from his abdomen until it flushed his face red.

“Please, tell me,” I told him. Slightly above a whisper, he responded, “I want to be a basketball player.” He felt nervous about saying it out loud. It reminded me of my own stated aspiration close to his age. Growing up near the University of Notre Dame, I stated my desire to attend college there when I was nine. Receiving an acceptance letter from Notre Dame requires significant determination, but my parents taught me to trust my abilities. When you whole-heartedly believe in yourself, you hold power. Empowering yourself, practicing, and working hard become the bricks that lay the foundation of your future achieved goals.

I persevered, and despite people doubting me, I had confidence I could succeed. Self-doubt crept in, as it does for everyone, but I was kind to myself in these moments. “It’s okay, just keep giving your best. Keep trusting you have what it takes,” I told myself. I watched the commercials of young adults opening Notre Dame acceptance letters and imagined myself opening my letter. I cried while visualizing myself holding the mail I’d one day open that would say, “Welcome home.”

It may sound cliché to tell you to work hard and have faith in your potential, but how many times has the world doubted you? How often have you been embarrassed to say your goals out loud out of fear of funny looks or the worry that you’d say it and it wouldn’t happen? What would people think? Would they laugh?

After being accepted to Notre Dame, I wrote my story and shared how I accomplished my goal. My acceptance led to another fulfilled dream: for my writing to be recognized. My writing was featured in “The Secret to Teen Power,” a book that teaches teenagers how to use mindset to achieve the dreams and goals they have set for themselves. The author told me he thought my story could inspire others. I saw one person, years later, say my story inspired her to apply to her dream college. One person means the world. One person means everything to me. Inspiring one more person is my next goal, which I hope this letter will do.

So, I’ll lead by example and share my next dream: to be a published author. I’m saying it now with a mix of anxiety and deep knowing. The fear will arise, saying, “What if it doesn’t pan out?” It does scare me. I imagine your goals scare you, too. But I’ll say it proudly with a shaking voice. Will you state your goal with me? When your self-doubt creeps in, remember to say, “It’s okay, just keep giving your best. Keep trusting you have what it takes.”

I looked into my son’s worried face and said, “Then you’ll be a basketball player, baby. It’ll take effort, and you’ll need to practice daily, but I’ll train with you.”

“Can we practice now?” he asked.

Are you practicing and dedicating effort?

Do you have confidence you can achieve your goal?

I believe you can, and I can’t wait to see what you’ll do.

You’ve got this,
Rachael