Dear Mom, Dad, Brother & Sisters 
I cherish every good time we had (And still have) together. But when December came around during my childhood, it was always an exciting time. I’ll never forget helping you all put up the Christmas trees. We always had a big tree in that trailer! It was a lot of fun looking at those beautiful Christmas lights in the living room at night with y’all.

Singing Christmas songs with each other was also a joy. My favorite song we would sing together was Twelve Days Of Christmas. It was funny trying to remember each of the things that match each number. But when we sang that song, we SANG the song! 

The closer Christmas Eve & Day got, the more our excitement rose. School added to the excitement by having us students watch Christmas movies, making gingerbread houses (Those were so good!), and eating Christmas candies. 

I’ll never forget dad when you told me the tale about Santa Claus and what happens if he catches you awake at night. You said he’ll put salt & pepper in our eyes if Santa catches us peeking. I remember hearing who I think was Santa one time during Christmas in the early morning. That story made me stay in bed until Santa left our trailer and went to another place. 

Santa never put salt & pepper in our eyes, so I’m grateful for that. Whew! 

Christmas Days were the best. I was always the first to go into the living room and see what Santa got for all of us. The happiness, joy, and wonder I felt each time at looking under the Christmas tree was everything. Seeing you all also happy and opening presents was great to see also. 

I remember my brother and me playing with our new toys while mom and dad were cooking Christmas dinner. My sisters would be in the living room with us for a while before heading to their room and playing in their own world until Christmas dinner was ready. Haha!

I miss those times when we would have Christmas together, before my siblings and I started having our own lives. I’m forever grateful for those times though and hope we can all get together again soon. And mom, I’ll save you a plate so you can eat yourself silly.
Gerald

Dear Grandma Urdang and Grandpa Urdang,
Growing up Mom and Dad took me almost every weekend to visit you in Greenich Village. We either drove into the city or in later years came down the palisade parkway to visit you on the very cool west 4 th street in the west village. You lived in a 100 year old nyc city historic landmark apartment building on the 3rd floor without an elevator. Your apartment was far from fancy or nicely decorated. It was dark and a bit dreary but I had the absolutely best time coming to see you and Grandpa. When I was very little you both would kiss my hands and face and call me shana maidela (which is Yiddish for pretty girl). You made me feel so beautiful.
Homemade chicken soup was always the meal we shared. Yum. delicious. When I was 14 my parents told me I could take the bus from Rockland County to the 42nd street bus terminal by myself to come visit you. I loved those times I had you all to myself. Unfortunately, in later years it was just you grandma. I think at that point you were starting to face your mortality so you decided to give me money every time I came to visit. Now I want you to know that kind gesture that you insisted on giving me touched me but that was nothing compared to the affection and love I received from you. I felt like I was your favorite grandchild. Maybe all your grandchildren felt that way. It did not matter. I so cherished the loving bond we had. I hope I gave you as much joy as you gave me and I hope I always made you proud. I know the life I have lived and the love I am able to give my family is a direct result of the sweetness you surrounded me with throughout my childhood. I so miss you both.
Your shana maidela,
Shelala

Dear Mom and Dad,

When I was a child, we went on trips to Disney World, Aruba, California, and Vermont. We went to zoos and parks and all sorts of places. I played soccer worldwide, as we traveled as far as Italy to compete. While each of those memories is special, one of my favorite memories growing up is a bit simpler.

Every day from first grade until my senior year, one of you drove me to school – sometimes a half hour away. I played soccer for teams all over the state, and you drove me to practice and games several times a week. In addition, you also took me to girl scouts, Hebrew school, tennis lessons, dance, acting classes, and who knows what else. With all these activities, it was often just one of you in the car and me. If it were dad and me, we’d often talk about soccer or school. Dad, you’d pump me up and build my confidence. It was in those car rides you told me I could do anything I wanted in life.

Mom, if I were in the car with you, we’d blast music like NSYNC and the Backstreet Boys and talk about life. On one of those car rides, while cruising down the New York State Thruway, we decided the song “This is My Promise to You” by NSYNC would be OUR song.

Those car rides are some of my most cherished memories from my childhood. It was moments I had your full attention – while me and the road, of course. I could talk to you about anything, and we weren’t distracted by other people or the noise of the rest of the world. It was just us. The attention made me feel loved and important. In those car rides, I found a safe space to share my fears and doubts and tell you about whatever was on my mind. Dad told me stories that included life lessons, while mom always was positive and reassuring.

It was in those car rides I learned to believe in myself.

While sometimes, we as human beings try to create great memories – planning big trips or throwing huge parties – for me, the best memories have always been the ones we didn’t even realize we were creating.

I Love you both.

P.S. I owe you some gas money

Good Morning Beautiful Soul,

We are connected like sisters, I feel. Not blood, barely relatives, but still sisters. You and I met by chance but our paths were absolutely meant to cross. I met you while we were both in our darkest hour, different paths, similar darkness. You are someone who has poured into me from the moment you met me, as a big sister would. I’ve yearned for a sister like you and I am blessed to have you. I had the honor of watch from a distance as you fought tooth and nail to piece your life back together. You have and continue to build this beautiful life from the ashes like the phoenix you are.

I watch in complete aww as you build a company, buy a house, support your baby girl in the ways every little girl should be supported. You are literally the walking example of the woman I aspire to be. You spend your mornings and afternoons working and your evenings building others up. You ensure everybody around you is cared for and loved while holding your boundaries and staying true to what you absolutely deserve.

You pour into me like I’ve poured into tons of unworthy people, hoping and praying I would receive the worthiness soon enough. You remind me of my worth and empower my boundaries. You help build me to the limitless woman I am becoming. What you don’t know is even when we go weeks where life sweeps us up I still hear you in my head; my voice of reason, of worth. “Don’t let nobody tell you, you aren’t worthy.” “Love yourself baby!” You literally fill my entire being with a yearn to level up.

I will never be able to repay you for what you have gifted me, without even knowing it. However, I will absolutely try to be the best me in return. And I will forever be in your corner, no matter how near or far we are. Aspiration to others, building boundaries, knowing my limits, and evolving always. I’ve always watched and admired from afar, like a fan does to a celebrity. I say this not to put pressure, but to show you how you being you has helped me be me. Most importantly, to show you how loved and worthy of nothing less than exceptional you are.

Thank you for being the sister I never knew I needed. Thank you for fighting, for being you! Because honestly, without you turning your ashes into diamonds I wouldn’t have known that was an option for me. You are my role model.

I love you ALWAYS!

Katie,
Many years ago, I knew I wanted to be a sports reporter. I grew up idolizing the stalwarts like Keith Jackson, James Brown, Jon Miller, et al. But I knew that just naming names wouldn’t even be close to enough.
When you and I became close friends, you were among the first people to see fire and potential in me. You said it yourself with four brief, yet powerful words: “I believe in you.” This was all I needed to know I had someone in my corner.
You saw potential in me before a couple of my professors did, and I thank you a million times over for that. Even when I was down on myself, you told me not to worry, as it would eventually turn around. When I was hired as an MMA writer at my first job, you celebrated with me. When I was close to hitting milestone numbers as far as my article count, you were rooting me on.
When I just wanted to talk about whatever it was that was on my mind, you were among the first people I would email, and it’s for this reason that I look forward to our conversations every single week, even when it seems that I have nothing to talk about.
As I graduated from Youngstown State and prepared to enter the working world, I asked you to be a reference for my resume. Happily, you said yes, and when I needed a letter of recommendation, I asked you. Happily, you said yes.
It took me a few years to realize how big of a role you played in my career, but I sat down in my room one night and thought it over.
Like a right hook from Edgar Berlanga in the Top Rank Boxing ring, it hit me: You, Katie, are my mentor. I’ve always rooted you on, just as you’ve supported me. We’ll always stick up for one another, through the best of times and the worst of times.
I wouldn’t trade my friendship with you for anything else in the world. It’s invaluable to me. There is no denying that you are the best person I know. You are a talented sports reporter and a true friend.
Thanks for always being in my corner.

Dear Ms. Child,

When I came to your class, I was a timid kid who didn’t know what to expect from your English class. I thought it would be another class I needed to survive through to get to the next stage in my class journey. I’m so glad I was way off with my assumptions about you & your class.
You were the starting point in making me teachers in a different light.

I don’t remember the lessons I learned in your class. I remember watching you teach in a way I’ve never seen before. You taught like you were really passionate about English, which was amazing to watch. The real turning point for me was when one day, we had a really nasty thunderstorm. I tried my hardest to hide my fear of thunderstorms, but, the lightning & thunder got too strong for me to not panic anymore.

You saw my fear, my panic & anguish while you were teaching the class. You called me to sit with you on your stool. While I felt embarrassed at my fear of being seen in the classroom & being laughed at by other classmates, I also felt comfortable sitting with you while the storm was passing through Leland, North Carolina. That experience has never left my memory.

It’s 2022 and the impact you had on me is still strong. You taught me that teachers can have compassion, care & love for their students and the subject that they teach. I believe my strong love for English started with taking your class. You also showed me that teachers do want to see their students succeed in life. Thank you, Ms. Child, for being a positive example to me. I hope all is well with you & your family.
Gerald

Dear Professor Abzug,

When I walked into your Women and Leadership class at Columbia University in the fall of 2006, I expected to learn about women’s history, engage in interesting conversations, and write about famous leaders. But as it turns out, you and your class left me with so much more than I could have ever anticipated.

Before your class, my world was very small. I was a 20-year-old college student, consumed with school, my family, a new boyfriend, and the latest party. I didn’t spend much time thinking about the world beyond my bubble. It’s not that I didn’t care about the issues that plagued our society, but I didn’t see an avenue for me to make a significant difference.

While I don’t remember the books we read, the topics we discussed, or even the themes of any of the papers I wrote, I do remember how you highlighted the inequality in society. You prepared us for the discrimination we’d likely face in our respective careers. However, you never told us what to think or how to respond. Instead, you asked us questions that challenged me to see beyond my little bubble. You showed us women like your mother, former congresswoman Bella Abzug, who broke glass ceilings, stood up for themselves, and single-handedly paved the way for others. As a result, you created this desire within me to discover my power. Every time class finished, it felt as though you lit a match in my belly, as I felt this fire – an energy and excitement that came with believing I could tackle inequality and win one battle at a time. It was you who made me think my voice matters in larger conversations.

It’s been 16 years since your class, and that fire has transformed into a guiding light. It has influenced my choices and my path in life. While pursuing my childhood dream to become a sportscaster, I faced many of the struggles you told us we might experience in our careers. But instead of backing down, becoming a victim, or accepting our culture for what it is, I spoke up and forced change.

Ultimately, I followed my heart and started a company called The Unsealed, which aims to empower voices and inspire people. My goal is to challenge our readers to realize their influence as we showcase diverse perspectives. I believe my purpose in life is to try and be the match that lights the fire in other people’s bellies.

Professor Abzug, I signed up for your class to learn more about women leaders, but I had no idea you’d teach me to become one. It was in your class that I developed an unshakeable confidence, a relentless spirit, and a fearless attitude.

The change I make for others all started with the change you influenced within me.

Thank you!

I know there are times in our lives and in our world where it appears that people are out to get us, even though we think we’ve done nothing wrong. We do everything right, or so it would appear, and yet we still get reamed for it– even though we don’t even so much as deserve to be criticized for it.

I also know that there are times when we are faced with scary moments, but it’s within those scary moments that we can learn something from ourselves.

16 years ago, I was in the eighth grade, just a few short weeks away from moving onto high school. It was on that day where I felt comfortable enough to disclose that I was autistic to my classmates for the first time in my life.

Although I had the full support of my teacher that day and although the students who knew me knew I was mainstreamed, it still scared the hell out of me to tell the story.

I started to explain the fact that I had autism and some of the kids didn’t understand what the hell it was that I had been talking about. There were puzzled looks on some students’ faces, and the teacher quickly said “He has autism.”

Even though the students who I had been mainstreamed with knew I had special needs, they didn’t really know that it was autism… and it was because I kept it in for longer than I should have… but happily, each time I tell someone that I have autism, it gets progressively easier and thus, less scary to tell.

Although the fear of telling someone that I have autism doesn’t completely go away (hopefully it keeps going away with time,) that spring afternoon in 2006 served as a moment of clarity for me.

The moments where we, as people, are fearful the most, can also serve as moments where we can learn valuable lessons, and it’s those teaching moments that help us grow as people.

Thus, the big takeaway from this letter is simple:

You are stronger than you may think. All it takes is a little bit of smarts, a fair amount of guts, and a great deal of support.

If you have all three of those qualities, you’ll be going places.

What scares the hell out of us can also make for our most valuable lessons.

What are you waiting for? Get out there and inspire somebody! Good luck!

Dear Unsealers,
Recently I had surgery and it was a bit scary. It’s behind me now. I could not have gone thru this process without the support of my dear family. Thank you to my amazing children, Andrew and Lauren, for immediately stepping up and helping Dad and I make the right decision as to which way to proceed. Your research and involvement was so very crucial and so deeply touching. You both analyzed the situation, listened in on all consultations with the surgeons, asked the doctors important and very pivotal questions and helped me manage all my test results. You are my pillars of strength and my guiding light. Thank you to my husband, Alan, who always insisted on accompanying me to every test from cat scan to MRI to covid test you were right by my side and of course every consultation and then in the hospital thru surgery. You are my strength as well as being my post-op coach. You challenge me to get out of bed and walk, which the doctors have told us is important for a faster recovery. Thank you also to all my love ones who supported me and comforted Alan,Andrew and Lauren thru. this process. Thank you to my my sweet daughter -in-law, my caring sisters, my cousins, my extended family and my friends for being so supportive and concerned. You all are so important to me. It really does take a village and you are my village.
From the bottom of my heart with much love and appreciation,
Shelley

Dear Sean,

Our friendship began the night we met. It was August 12, 2018 in downtown Cleveland. My friends and I ended up at a table at FWD nightclub with you and your friends. Thanks to your charm, and that handsome face, we immediately clicked.

In a short time, I realized there was so much more to you than your good looks and your sweet personality.

Over the next year, I got to know you pretty well. I opened up to you about my past. You were supportive and understanding. I shared with you the challenges I faced at the time, and you gave me strength, encouragement, and confidence. You also took me for sushi, became my pen pal (exchanging a billion texts a day), and helped me set the foundation for my business. Sometimes, I’d even get you to stop by my apartment just to give me a hug.

As our friendship evolved, you’d often share your wisdom and perspective with me.

Vividly, I remember you once telling me a lesson you learned while serving in the military. You told me you were pushed so much physically in the military that you realized that the moment you feel like giving up – the moment you feel like you have nothing left in the tank – you always have a bit more fight left. You can always go more.

I left Cleveland in June of 2019. You came over and said goodbye to me. You told me we’d see each other again in Miami or when I returned to Cleveland. Little did I know that would be the last time I’d ever see you.

About two months later, you texted me, “I have a miracle.”

You proceeded to tell me, in text, about how a week earlier you had a seizure while home with your daughters. Your daughters called for help and got you to the hospital, where they found a tumor in your brain. You sent me videos and an actual picture of the tumor inside your brain. It was too much for me to absorb over text, and I asked you to call me, which you did.

At that point, you still didn’t know if it was cancer, but you told me, “Don’t worry. Whatever it is, I will be OK.”

When you officially told me it was cancer, I don’t think my mind could fully process the reality of the situation. In fact, I still don’t think I have fully processed it. As time passed, I checked in on you here and there, and we chatted about life and other things.

When I first launched The Unsealed, you read nearly every letter, and signed up as one of my very first members.

After I thanked you for signing up, you said, “Your stories are helping people, Lauren. Your strength/story is touching.”

You made me believe that this lofty dream I was pursuing was not only possible but worthwhile.

While we didn’t talk much about your cancer diagnosis, and you certainly never told me your prognosis, you did tell me your circumstance taught you that no matter what, you always have to look at life from a positive perspective. When I told you I felt like I hit a wall with my business, you told me to be thankful I am here to hit that wall, reminding me that each day is both a blessing and an opportunity.

I used to tease you that you were a feminist, but you truly were, believing that women, including me, could be or do anything they so choose. I remember you even spent time on a weekend, helping teach young girls how to code.

Your daughters were your world, and you never wanted to miss a volleyball game or dinner time. If I called you while you were watching a movie with one of your daughters, you wouldn’t answer. Your time with your children was precious to you – and that was true from the moment I met you.

During your battle with cancer, you began to ride your bike – a lot. You decided to join the Great Cycle Challenge, aiming to ride your bike 200 miles in a month to raise money, not for yourself but for children battling cancer. You were among the top fundraisers in the country.

In the most challenging moment in your life, you devoted your time and energy to helping others that were suffering.

Sean, that is who you were. That is who all your friends and family know, love, and cherish.

A little less than a year ago, I asked you how you were, and you told me you were OK and that you were going to try some experimental treatments. Without going into detail, I knew what that meant. I didn’t hear from you much after that, and I feel sad that I didn’t reach out as I should have. I think, subconsciously, a part of me didn’t want to face the reality of losing yet another young person close to me. I am sorry I wasn’t there for you as much as I should have been these last few months. I promise, it wasn’t because I didn’t care.

A few weeks ago, I had a funny story I wanted to tell you – a mystery that I finally solved. When I texted you on your phone and Instagram and didn’t get a response, I knew it wasn’t good. Ultimately, your best friend and your mom filled me in. I am thankful I texted when I did, as I was able to send you cards and tell you how much you meant to me. Your mom even said that when you saw the card was from me, you had a huge smile across your face.

I am absolutely heartbroken right now. You were one of the good guys and didn’t deserve a battle with brain cancer. With that said, I want you to know that the man beyond the charm and the handsome face has left an indelible mark on my heart.

Because of you, I will keep fighting when I feel there is nothing left in the tank. I will keep pushing to build The Unsealed, motivated by the fact that I know it meant something to you and can and will help many other people. And I will always wake up every day with gratitude and a positive attitude.

While I am mourning the loss of your life, I will continue to celebrate you through how I live mine.

I miss you already. Thank you for genuinely caring about me. You will forever inspire me.

With love and lots of hugs,
Lauren

P.S. I heart you.

support brain cancer research disease by donating to:
https://virtualtrials.org/strother.cfm or http://www.childrenscancer.org/seanstrother

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@delanomassey @shelleybrill @kayjahlorde @mehraslam @amazz94 @abbiegwrites @bigstudbundy @lostone89 @willardogan @wilparker1 @andbrill @zaysmith1 @gabriellebeth @ashley_topham @asyk @hue-jackson @dsenlightenededits @jerricaconley @jsimon @johncarubbagmail-com @qcurtis @redskinsjjv84 @okiwa002 @vbrooks884 @oneturbobenz @writingsfromthegarden @jcbcle77 @yourbabydaddy @zuckerman @corriefergusonbooks

Dear Ashley @ashley_topham,

I read your story about the rainbow and your father. It is such a beautiful memory. Sometimes, I think the universe implants these memories in us so when are loved ones leave us, they have ways they can send us little reminders that they are still with us.

My grandfather always said that rain was good luck. Since I was little girl, I was very athletic and I wanted to be a sportscaster. My grandfather was the only other athletic one in our family, so we both knew I had his genes, which gave us this special connection. I used to wear his the number 15 in sports because his birth was August 15th.

Unfortunately, he died when I was 13. When I was 25, I was up for my dream job, a sportscaster in Buffalo, NY. When I went up for my interview, the new director gave me a lot of constructive criticism. I didn’t think I got the job. After two weeks of waiting to hear back, I got on call on August 15th – my grandfather’s birthday. It was from the News Director in Buffalo. I was at the dentist, but I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to get rejected on my grandfather’s birthday. That day was sacred to me. But the news director left a message and said it was important that I call back ASAP. So, I didn’t want to be unprofessional.

I called and he said, “Sorry it took so long for me to get back to you. I had to explain to corporate why I wanted to offer you the job. You aren’t as experienced as our other candidates, but I told them someone like you is not going to come across my desk twice.”

I tried to so hard to hold back my tears. But after I got off the phone, I walked outside of the building to head home and it was pouring out. As soon as I saw the ran, I burst into tears. My dream came true on the day of my grandfather’s birthday in the pouring. I knew he was watching over me.

Just curious, have you ever seen a rainbow and thought it was your dad letting you know he is by your side?

To try to think of one particularly great story about my mom that really stands out..is kind of a challenge. That feels weird to write it, and said out loud its even more strange. I guess life with my mom was just an endless series of great moments, great days..a bunch of small every day things that comprised one amazing life.My mom passed away 18 years ago. Thats sometimes still very hard to believe. One particular moment stands out..and its a very sad one. But also just illustrates how strong she was and how amazing of a mother she was. I was working at my part time job one night. Mom had been declining..her years long battle with cancer was nearing its end. But I got a call from my brother or my dad at the restaurant I was working at- Mom wasnt doing well, and i needed to get to Mom and Dad’s. I left immediately and went to their house. When I got there Mom was at the bathroom sink, and maybe for the first time in my life I saw my mom scared. Uncertain. Not sure what was happening.I was upset. Dad went upstairs to get his keys and wallet, as we were gonna take Mom to the hospital. Dad asked me to get Mom to the couch and help her put on her coat and her shoes so we could go when he came downstairs. I got Mom to the couch, and I was crying a lot. I’d never seen my mom look this shaken,
and knew things weren’t good. I hugged her so hard I practically tackled her into the couch. i didn’t want to let go. But I had to help with her shoes. I sat up, and as I was trying to get her shoes on, I was struggling. The tears were flowing so much I could barely see what I was doing. Then, my mom did what she did for almost 34 years- she just made her baby (she called me that) feel reassured and better. Or tried to. She put her hand on my shoulder and my back, and said “Jimmy, it’ll be ok. Everything will be ok”. With who knows what going on in her mind, with her having to know that things weren’t going to be ok, with her maybe being scared of what was going on, her first thought was to take care of me, to protect me, to tell me everything will be ok. I will never forget that moment. As sad as it was, I dont want to forget it. because it just reaffirmed to me what I already know. That nothing mattered to Mom more than caring for and protecting her kids. That turned out to be the last day Mom spent at the house. She passed a couple weeks later. The little 4’10” Italian dynamo left us..but never left our hearts. There were far more happy memories: taking me to an Indians game on my 8th birthday. We took the bus because Dad was working second shift,and my brother had just started driving. But we hoppped on the bus and had a great time. There was the homemade pasta dinners for every holiday (even Thanksgiving had cavatelli..Italians lol). She’d make me pasta every night I had a little league game and tell me there was a double and triple in there. Like I said, the good memories were far more prevalent. But that night-as sad as it was- will stay with me forever. Mom took care of her loved ones, always put us first. Even when she had every right to put herself first. Thanks Mom. You’re the best 🙂

@theunsealed