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  • Angel (second chance) to my rainbow 🌈 baby

    I pray God send you back to me
    I loved you before I knew you
    I still love you
    My boo boo
    I will always love you
    You would have been 7 years old
    Some friends tell me Happy mothers day
    I smile to cover up the pain that’s inside of me
    It’s hard for me to open up to explain to others what happened
    I wish I knew what you would have looked like
    Still wonder if you were going to be a baby boy “Legend”
    Or a “Diamond” princess
    I wish I knew your favorite toy
    Your favorite cartoon
    favorite food
    favorite fruit
    favorite veggie
    favorite ice cream
    favorite hobby
    favorite color
    favorite book
    I know uncle Jimmy would have been your favorite uncle
    Sherice & Klanice your favorite twin aunties
    All I wanted was the best for you
    Lead you in the right direction
    I wanted you to have a father
    That knew the definition of being a father
    And act on it
    I was so happy when I confirmed I was due 3/30/2017
    But I was scared too
    So I sat down and thought everything through
    I rather have a child by a real man with father experience
    Even with no father experience but is ready and willing to sacrifice
    And do everything he can to make sure his child is well taken care of
    And I was guaranteed to have a real man that had my back one hundred percent
    Then I would have never had any doubts
    I still look at my ultrasound picture
    My body freezes up looking at my seed I was carrying
    Small thing you
    Sometimes as I sit and write
    But yet my kid not hugging or kissing me
    Or saying, “mommy I love you”
    I feel so empty inside
    The sorrow is so heavy
    So deep
    I pray God
    Bring me back my princess or prince
    Healthy and all.

    My little angel 😇 💛

    Author Dainnese Jackson

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  • Shimmer and Shine

    Pure determination and new promises packed along with
    her black t-shirt that boldly said, “Laugh More, Bitch Less.”
    She was grit, she was fierce.
    She wasn’t afraid to travel in an RV with her new boyfriend,
    landing in Montana mountains as a young black beautiful woman -hiking on flat trails where chokecherries partied near creeks , dealing with strong winds that chapped her cheeks, and witnessing how the snow packed and spread over the land, emphasizing the mountain tops.
    She was cascading to her new dreams, her first brave trip out of the family nest.
    she shimmered, she shined.
    if you were lucky enough to see her smile – unforgettable like Natalee and Nat King Cole singing.
    that is why WHEN she went missing –
    no cellphone life, no social media snapchats, we knew something was wrong .
    So, us, her siblings/besties put on the song Fugees –“ Gonna Find You”
    We went.

    Missing women.
    Missing men.
    Missing kids.

    Pure determination, pure promises.
    Shimmer and Shine.

    Christina Mitma Momono

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  • RIP Mac 1991 - 2020

    My dear,
    My beautiful one.
    Oh, how I wish to feel your touch again.
    To hear your sigh as you pass through the door.
    To look, just once more, into your crystal eyes.
    Oh, how I wish that I didn’t have to wish.

    Macy Fluharty

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  • The Day My World Stopped Spinning

    December 2, 2012. I remember this day all too well, and December 3, 2012, which is strange because I don’t remember most of my life. These two days however, are clear, vivid, like watching a movie in IMAX. A movie that haunts me to this very day.

    Let’s start with December 2. Abby and I were at Granny’s. It was a Sunday afternoon, the phone rang. It was you. Mama was just arriving at Granny’s to pick us up and take us back home with her. I remember Granny asking if I wanted to talk to you, I did not. I was handed the phone, but I had nothing to say to you. I was hurt, angry, and sad. I told you I was mad at you. Mad because you left once again to go raise a child who wasn’t even your own. You left me. You left us. You said you’d be coming home for Christmas, I was happy about that, excited even. I have always been a Daddy’s girl, all I wanted was my Daddy home. Since I didn’t want to talk to you, you asked to talk to Mama. I walked the phone out to her and let y’all talk. I remember Mama smiling and laughing while speaking with you. I later found out you had asked her to marry you again. She loved you, and truthfully now looking back, she would have married you again in a heartbeat. After y’all got off the phone, Abby and I loaded up in the car with Mama and headed home. The entire ride home I was still mad, but also very excited because in a few short weeks I’d get to see you again. So I thought anyway.

    December 3, 2012. Monday morning, I was awoken with my phone being taken away. I had no idea what I had done wrong for my phone to be taken, I was very confused. Mama looked like she had been crying all night. Her eyes were swollen and red. She couldn’t tell me why she took my phone from me, so being the teenager that I was, of course I was irritated. I asked her what was wrong, she said she had a toothache all night and didn’t get any sleep. I got ready for school like it was a normal day. I remember I was wearing hot pink pants, a black shirt, and black boots. We left home, the same time as usual, like we were headed to school. I would have never guessed the horrors that awaited us. We stopped at Nana’s, this was unusual, especially since we were going to be late for school at this point. I remember being so agitated because not only do I not have my phone, now I’m going to be late for school. After Nana’s, we stopped at Granny’s. Immediately I knew something was wrong. Aunt Sam’s car was in the driveway, she lived in Kentucky at this time so why was she there? Granny was sitting on the porch in her pajamas, housecoat, and slippers. We got out of the car, and Granny’s face looked just like Mama’s. Eyes red and swollen like she’d been crying all night. Now I am aware this is not another toothache. It was never a toothache.

    Granny tells us to go in and sit on her bed. Abby and I do as were told, we sit on the end of her bed. Granny then proceeds to kneel down in front of us, touching the both of us with her hands, and says, “Your Daddy was in an accident, and he didn’t make it.” I finally understand why my phone was taken, why everyone’s eyes were red and swollen, why everything that morning was a bit off. My world just went black. My heart shattered. Everything inside me died that day. That is the first time I ever had thoughts of suicide. Fourteen years old, and my Daddy had died. I didn’t even get to tell him goodbye. He died thinking that I hated him. I did not get to tell him I loved him, I missed him, I just wanted him to come home. I refused to speak to him when I had the chance just hours before he departed from this world. He died not knowing how much he meant to me. After we were told of the tragedy that occurred, we had to go home and pack our bags. We were going to Illinois. The bags were packed and we headed back to Granny’s, but now Papa was home too. A sound that I will never forget, is the sound of a grown man I have never seen shed one single tear, screaming, sobbing, and wailing. The sound of him mourning his son was loud enough to hear from outside of the house. To this day I can still hear his cries.

    The week following your death is a blur. I remember key moments. I remember Aunt Sam nearly killing us trying to drive to the court house. You were actually going to court to see if the child you left Tennessee for was yours. I remember staying at Silly Willy’s and everyone went to view your body, but we were not allowed to go. I remember them talking about your body being “mangled”. I remember sitting at Silly Willy’s kitchen table trying to help pick songs to play at your funeral. I remember going to pick out your casket. I remember picking out your favorite cologne to spray on you. I remember when we had your visitation in Illinois and we were the first to view you. I remember not being able to walk down the aisle, nearly falling to my knees, sobbing my eyes out. That could not be MY Daddy laying in this casket. No. Not mine. But it was. Thankfully, Aunt Sam was there to pick me up and help me walk. I remember finally leaving, and Mama was the last person to say goodbye to you. We all gave her privacy. I remember going out to eat with everyone afterward and we all took a picture with the signature Billy Gray middle finger.

    We brought you back home to Tennessee, in the bed of Papa’s truck. I remember riding behind it and still not believing that you were in that casket, you were really gone. I remember burying you, six feet in the ground. You were home for Christmas that year, just not the way I had expected. I remember everything, and sometimes, I wish I didn’t.

    Since you’ve been gone, it does feel like the world has stopped spinning. I died that day and I don’t think I have ever come back to life yet. In fact, everyone died. A piece of every single one of us died on December 2, 2012. Some have handled your death better than others, but nonetheless, not one of us is okay. You do not expect to bury your father as a teenager. A parent does not expect to bury their child. Siblings do not expect to bury their sibling at such a young age. Especially, when you’re completely blindsided by it.

    I always sit and wonder about the “what if’s”. What if you were still alive? Would things be as bad as they are? Would I be the way that I am? Would our family be as dysfunctional as it is now? The “what if’s” and “why’s” will eat you alive if you’re not careful. I have had my fair share of being eaten alive by them. I have had to accept that I cannot change what has happened, I cannot go back in time. I just have to believe you’re still here with me, believe that you know I love you and I always have, believe that you are in a better place.

    You turned the last page of your book here on earth. I will cherish that book forever, hold it tightly in my soul. This December will mark 11 years, and I miss you more than I could ever put into words. I am still my Daddy’s little girl. I always will be. You were the first man I loved, and the first to break my heart. Unfortunately, grief never goes away, time does not fade the emotions and feelings. However, it is how you deal with the grief that is the key. Truth be told, I have not handled it very well. I have cursed God’s name, lost faith in everything, spiraled into destructive habits. Lots of times just HOPING it would in some sense bring me closer to you. I am now hoping one day my world will begin to spin again, maybe life will form in the parts of me that died. I will keep trying down here on earth, remember your legacy, for I am just as hard headed and stubborn as you. In the meantime, it is what it is. I will take it day by day until we meet again. When that day comes, be prepared for a fight because you left me down here without you, tears, laughter, and most of all an abundance of love. I will never let you go.

    Your little girl,

    Hannah Gray

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  • Someone You've Never Met

    Have you ever had the pleasure of falling in love with someone you’ve never met?

    It’s almost as if you have an immediate connection,
    Your souls are fused together.
    The pull of uncertain, certainty.
    You feel everything all at once.
    Your soul is content and full.
    You’ve become a glutton for the love
    It feels so good!
    Theres butterflies signifying this spectacular moment in the timeline.

    Have you ever had the pleasure of a heartbreak over someone you’ve never met?

    They say the worst withdrawal is of a person.
    I must say, “I agree.”
    It’s almost as if you have lost a real piece of your soul
    You have no autonomy over your
    You crave, cry, and hate all within a
    You mourn someone you’ve never even

    Have you ever had the pleasure of healing after a heartbreak over someone you’ve you’ve never met?

    It’s almost as if you are whole again.
    You carefully put each piece of your
    shattered heart together
    Hand gluing, welding, stitching,
    and crafting it into your newest
    Looking at your newest master piece
    You’re feel of all of the happy, joyful
    memories you chose to keep
    You’re reminded of the pain and
    mourning that led to
    You, whole,new & ready to love.

    AL Gonzalez

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    I dedicate this poem to Gary and Morgan, loving partners for over 40 beautiful years. This month Gary passed away after a year long struggle with cancer, days before Morgan’s birthday and their anniversary. During his final moments, Gary only had the strength to whisper priceless words of encouragement and love to Morgan. This is a poem of hope that we will all meet again, someday, somewhere beyond this life. But in the meantime, we’ll find each other in…


    You’ll come to me in whispers

    And you’ll visit me in dreams

    I’ll awaken from your kisses

    Softly lit by radiant beams

    In the echos of my life

    I will catch your sweetest voice

    I will hear our love’s pure song

    And my heart will then rejoice

    I will strain my tired ear

    For each whisper that you gift

    As I listen most intently

    In our memories I will drift

    And one day your gentle whispers

    Will be louder and quite clear

    We’ll be standing face to face

    And our love song all will hear

    Ricardo Albertorio

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  • The Greatest Gift

    Dear Unsealers,

    Today I held the hand of a dying friend. We looked into each other’s eyes and I said the only thing I could say at that moment…”I love you”. Too weak to speak, he closed his eyes, puckered his tired lips, and blew me a kiss. I caught it and will carry it with me for the rest of my life.

    Ricardo Albertorio

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  • Special Moments with my Godmother

    *This summer my friend challenged me to write something based off of paint color names. I did it once and liked the result, so I had to do it again. I had my mom choose 5 different paint color swatches at a hardware store and then wrote this. While some details in this letter have been changed (to fit the prompt) I believe this does encapsulate the beautiful spirit of my deceased godmother so I dedicate this to her.
    I miss you

    I miss the way you used to romanticize life

    And filled it with special moments

    What a blessing it was to watch you relishing in every moment you were here.

    With hospitality you would set out fancy china, brew coffee and fill a carafe with heavy cream just for me

    The way you would belly laugh when we got caught in a downpour and arrived home sopping wet.

    The few sacred moments we spent together in the morning where you would put my hair in a ponytail and smile warmly at me.

    The way you would kiss me on the forehead and your cloudberry clad lips would imprint themselves there as a reminder of the deep love you had for me.

    The way you would strategically place the tinsel on the Christmas tree so that it would glimmer in the darkness.

    Your enthusiasm for life was what made you so beautiful.

    And it is a piece of you that shines in the mosaic of pieces that make up me.

    One day I will have my own goddaughter and I hope my wonder and enthusiasm for life

    Will shine as deeply in her as yours does in me.

    With Love,

    Hannah G.

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    • What a beautiful tribute! Your Godmother was very lucky to have you! <3 Lauren

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      • I was so lucky to have her. She was like a second mother to me. I just wish I had her for longer. We lost her when I was 18. I was just learning to adult. I’m now 27 and wish I had her warmth and wisdom to guide me in these transitional/transformational years of my life. I hope I am living a life that makes her proud of me.

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    • Check out our newsletter today – Sunday. We will include this piece.

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  • LLL

    In the realm of politics, they stood so tall,
    A mentor, a friend, guiding us all.
    Their wisdom and passion, a beacon of light,
    Inspiring us to fight for what’s right.

    But fate had other plans, a tragic twist,
    A car rollover accident, a life dismissed.
    Yet their spirit lives on, in memories we keep,
    Their legacy forever etched, in our hearts so deep.

    They taught us to be bold, to stand up and speak,
    To fight for justice, for the voices weak.
    Their absence is felt, a void hard to fill,
    But their impact on us, lingers still.

    So let’s honor their memory, with every stride,
    Carrying their torch, side by side.
    Though they may be gone, their influence won’t cease,
    For their spirit lives on, in our pursuit of peace.

    Rebecca Engle

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  • Jamell Crouthers shared a letter in the Group logo of Remembering those we lost/GriefRemembering those we lost/Grief group 5 months, 2 weeks ago

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    Gone Physically But Still With Me Spiritually

    This letter is only available to The Unsealed subscribers. Subscribe or login to get access!

  • I pick a peach rose and rested on its side

    When we talk about those we have lost it doesn’t have to mean someone has died physically, rather someone you have lost connection with or someone that decided to leave you mentally.
    I chose this topic because this relationship that I no longer have with my mother has impacted me greatly in my life,
    This was not my decision by any means but people have different reasons for things that they do.
    I have not seen heard or talked to my mother in 27 years it seems like a travesty but in actuality it’s probably a good thing.
    A little backstory:
    My mother has always been into hard drugs as long as I can remember I remember crawling on the floor through needles in my diapers and I remember the (tax man) she called him coming to her house a couple times a week with a briefcase. God only knows what was in that briefcase. As I grew up I remember my mother getting taken out on a stretcher by the ambulance and police for what I have no idea I was probably about 6 years old, My mother had a lot of mental health issues along with the drug use, My grandmother ended up sectioning her a few times I can remember bringing her to the hospital and watching her fight, kick, punch and bite The orderlies it took five to assist in getting hurt tied down in the bed so she wouldn’t hurt anyone for herself anymore. Know that I’m grown and I look back at these instances on baffled at how a mother can let her child see and hear and witness all of these things at such a young age it breaks my heart but I’ve learned to cope. I don’t think you can ever cope fully to a situation like this flashbacks always happen for me I have PTSD and night terrors about things that used to happen I remember being woken up at 2:00 in the morning when I was 5 to be told that we had to get out of the house and go live somewhere else (We were living with my mother’s boyfriend at the time)
    This happened on a number of occasions with different men. I went to a new school every year back and forth to my mom and dad’s never had a stable place.
    I do feel bad for her she missed out on so much of her life as well as mine But I do not feel bad taking my sanity back and getting myself well. Like they say when you’re at the bottom of the barrel there’s no where else to go but up so you just got to keep trucking everybody has their own faults and decisions that they have to make. I do believe drugs obviously have a hand in all of this but I don’t believe that she didn’t have the option not to get involved with it those are our own decisions to make and the path we choose does impact others and to not think of it that way is selfish. For my sake in my kids sake I chose to break the ties with her she scares me And I don’t want my kids to ever feel like I did around her so they also have never met her. I feel like I want to miss her but I also feel like that’s letting my guard down and I’m so hyper-sensitive to not becoming her I know I’m not her and I know I don’t make these decisions that she makes and I know that I love my children and would never put them in harm’s way I just can’t wrap my head around The situation still I’m 41 years old now and I’m not involved in heavy drugs I do what I need to do to survive and I’ve got a pretty level-head on my shoulders so I guess I can thank her for that, but as for showing me how to be a mother I will take the credit for that
    With all this in mind I guess the lesson learned is no one to walk away when you’re getting into deep your mental health is not worth it and the detrimental aftermath it does to everybody else
    So again I’d like to say goodbye to my mother. that part of my life is over thank God.

    Danielle Bettro

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    • Danielle,
      Such a beautiful thing to be vulnerable! I can relate on so many levels the grief a mother can bring. I also had a mother who was on hard drugs, cared more about herself than her own innocent child. It is such a loss for the one who cannot fulfill the duty placed onto their path. The strength this can give us, seeing the light is the…read more

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    • Wow. What a great letter. Sorry you had it rough like that. What an unbelievable strength you have. To stay true to yourself and not let your guard down. I can’t imagine the courage it required to say goodbye like that. You seem like a really strong girl Danielle

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  • Dear______, *A tribute letter to Angus Cloud* ☁️

    *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! 🕊️



    Victoria Makanjuola

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    • Aww Victoria, you are such a compassionate person. I love this line, “, I try to counsel myself by saying this is all temporary. As in, “this too shall pass” I tell myself the same. It really helps me move forward. <3 lauren

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  • Time carries on when we don't

    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.


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  • TUSK UP!

    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,🐘


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  • Jim shared a letter in the Group logo of Remembering those we lost/GriefRemembering those we lost/Grief group 9 months, 2 weeks ago

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    Uncle Lou

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  • Dear Daddy

    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,


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  • Thank you Grandpa Herby

    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,


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    • The world is getting smaller Lauren. Not only have we worked for the same companies but I was born and grew up in the Bronx for a short time in my life. Your grandfather may have known my great grandfather and possibly my grandparents. Beautifully written letter to your grandfather, makes me think of my grandparents myself. You’re surely making…read more

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  • Mahogany Roberts shared a letter in the Group logo of Remembering those we lost/GriefRemembering those we lost/Grief group 9 months, 3 weeks ago

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  • Mahogany Roberts shared a letter in the Group logo of Remembering those we lost/GriefRemembering those we lost/Grief group 9 months, 3 weeks ago

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  • Dear Mateo

    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.


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    • I’m sorry for your loss. They sound like great people. I’m sure if they were to read this they’d smile and appreciate your kind words. Thank you for sharing.

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    • So sorry for your loss, and I can’t begin to understand your feeling of a trans, or what you go through daily, but I do understand love, true love, and I felt you had that with this couple. I’m sorry you lost your friend, but one day, there will come many others who will support you, befriended you, support you, believe me. You’re not alone and y…read more

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