(from oca.org)
The Hieromartyr Archpriest Philósophos N. Ornatsky was born on May 21, 1860 in the churchyard of Novaya Yerga, Cherepovets County, Novgorod Governorate, into the family of a village priest. One of his brothers was married to the niece of Saint John of Kronstadt. Philósophos studied first in Kirillov Theological School, and then in the Novgorod Theological Seminary. In 1885 he graduated from the St. Petersburg Theological Academy with the degree of Candidate. In the summer of 1885, Philósophos married Elena Zaozerskaya, the daughter of the former subdeacon of Metropolitan Isidore, and soon he was ordained to the priesthood.
Initially, the young priest served as rector in the church of the orphanage of the Prince of Oldenburg, where he had once taught the Law of God (catechism). From 1892 to 1912, he served as the rector of the church at the Expedition for the Procurement of State Papers. For twenty-six years he was the chairman of the Society for the Dissemination of Religious and Moral Education in the Spirit of the Orthodox Church, successfully counteracting anti-church movements.
In 1893, Father Ornatsky was elected as a member of the St. Petersburg City Duma from the clergy and held this office until 1917. He took part in the establishment of shelters in the city: orphanages and almshouses. Through his efforts in St. Petersburg and the surrounding area, twelve churches were built, the largest of which was the church of the Resurrection of Christ at the Varshavsky railway station. In addition, we should also mention the churches of Saints Peter and Paul in Lesnoy, Saint Sergius of Radonezh on Novosivkovskaya Street, Saint Seraphim of Sarov behind the Narva outpost, the church of the Forerunner on the Vyborg side, Saint Gerasimos church, and Saint Isidore of Yuriev church.
The Saint lived quite modestly, though his was a large family (he had ten children). The whole array of public titles and offices which he held for the glory of God, did not bring in any means of subsistence. As Chairman of the Temple Building Committees, large sums of money passed through his hands, yet he was obliged to give private lessons in order to feed his family.
Father Ornatsky was also the editor and censor of such metropolitan spiritual magazines as "St. Petersburg Spiritual Herald" (published from 1894), "The Christian's Rest" (1901), and "Orthodox-Russian Word" (1902).
Father Philósophos was one of the closest companions of the Hieromartyr Metropolitan Benjamin (Kazansky), of Petrograd and Gdovsk, who, when he was a student of the Theological Academy, was actively engaged in preaching activities in the working neighborhoods of St. Petersburg. Bonds of spiritual friendship also sprang up between him and His Holiness Patriarch Tikhon.
For almost twenty years, Father Philósophos was the spiritual son of Saint John of Kronstadt, who often visited him at home and blessed all his undertakings for the good of the Church. The holy pastor entrusted Father Philósophos with being an intermediary in his correspondence with Saint Theophánēs, the Recluse of Vysha.
In 1913, the Archpriest was appointed to the post of rector of the Kazan Cathedral in St. Petersburg. During the First World War, Father Philósophos gave up his apartment to be used as an infirmary for wounded soldiers, and he and his family moved to a small state-owned room. Repeatedly, he went to the areas of hostilities, accompanying the transports with needed supplies for the soldiers, and trying with all his might to inspire and support the defenders of Russia.
His son Nicholas (born in 1886) was a military doctor who was part of the Ninth Russian Army; another son, Boris (born in 1887), was a staff captain of the 23rd Artillery Brigade, who graduated from the Konstantinov Artillery School, and fought heroically on the Austro-Hungarian front. Father Ornatsky's gift of preaching attracted those who were seeking the words of life, and he repeatedly urged his flock not to accept the corrupting ideas of Bolshevism. Knowing that Orthodoxy is at the heart of Russian life, Batiushka urged the intelligentsia to realize this. He never tired of repeating: "Our intellectuals have to become Russian."
During the Revolution, he saw his wife's sister's husband, Peter Skipetrov (+ January 20) shot before his eyes. At the funeral service, Father Philósophos gave a sermon, fearlessly denouncing the Bolsheviks. He repeatedly called upon his flock to surround the churches and to protect the shrines of their land. In January 1918, when Father Peter Skipetrov was killed at the Lavra, Father Philósophos organized a defense of the shrines of Saint Alexander Nevsky Lavra, organizing Cross Processions to it from all the churches of the capital.
On August 9, 1918, he was arrested, along with his two eldest sons, Nicholas and Boris. At the time of his arrest he was absolutely impassive and calm. Parishioners gathered by the thousands and walked along Nevsky Prospekt, demanding the release of their shepherd. The Chekists received the delegation of believers, promising to do what they asked. But on the same night (July 20, 1918), Father Philósophos was transported to prison in the city of Kronstadt. Around October 30, 1918, thirty-two men were brought from different prisons, all officers of the Imperial Army, who were being taken to be shot. Some were young, and others were older. One said he was a Colonel of the Guards. He told their escorts, "You will all perish, perhaps in twenty years, but you will perish like dogs. Russia will be Russia again, but you will perish." Their escorts said nothing. As they were being led to the place of execution, Father Philósophos read aloud the prayer for the departure of the soul over his two sons and the rest of the convicts.
Some say the place of execution was in Kronstadt, while others say it was not far from the Gulf of Finland, between Ligovo and Oranienbaum. The bodies of those who were shot were dumped into the bay. Father Ornatsky's body did not sink, but was tossed onto the shore by the waves near Oranienbaum. There it was buried secretly by the inhabitants.
These Saints were canonized as New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia at the Jubilee Bishops' Council of the Russian Orthodox Church in August 2000 for general Church veneration.
Saint Philósophos is also commemorated on July 20, and on the Third Sunday after Pentecost (Movable Feast: Synaxis of the Saints of St. Petersburg.
Troparion — Tone 4
By sharing in the ways of the Apostles, you became a successor to their throne. Through the practice of virtue, you found the way to divine contemplation, O inspired one of God; vy teaching the word of truth without error, you defended the Faith, even to the shedding of your blood. Hieromartyr Philosophus, entreat Christ God to save our souls.

Sorry this is so long, i’ve had a terrible day. My story is almost unbelievable when I think about it, but I hope at least one person can empathise with me.
TLDR: my mom and my dad ended their 16 year marriage when I was 7 and she has let her bitterness and anger destroy everything around her. I have no concept or idea of a family, I'm watching my disabled grandma slowly die in front of me everyday, and I feel like I have no prospects. I dropped out of college in my final year because of depression and I've been the only one working to support what's left of my family on a salary of less than 15k. I work from home and everyday is the same. I don't go out, I feel suicidal and like I have no escape.
I always say that my childhood ended at 7 years old. I did have toys, and went to school and such, but I always did and continue to always feel out of place everywhere I go. We struggled financially (partially due to my dad - he was not perfect) but my mom gave up trying.
I used to see my father every other weekend as part of his custody rights, but once he got a job abroad, I wasn't able to see him much anymore. I last saw him when I was 13 or 14 years old. He never stopped trying to reach out and help, but my mom convinced me that if I spoke to him, bad things would happen to me, his family would curse us (we're African), and that it would be my fault.
This culminated with my grandma having a freak accident when I was 15. She got her legs crushed by a double decker bus and she had to have multiple surgeries and a below the knee amputation. She's now wheelchair bound and underweight. My mom has blamed my sibling and I during fights for not going to see him and therefore causing his family to curse my grandma as a punishment.
My mom fired our good lawyer and accepted a measly settlement of about 500,000. None of that money is here anymore, she was reckless with it and we're struggling everyday. Out of desperation, I set up a gfm a few weeks ago for my grandma but I haven't even tried to spread it out of embarrassment.
During this time, my dad remarried and honestly I think it was the biggest mistake of his life. My father had multiple strokes whilst he was abroad in Africa and he nearly died. He recuperated in Cuba for some time, but he could not work anymore due to being paralysed on one side of his body. He was always a hard worker, and earned around 6 figures when we were children working in telecoms engineering. He helped bring 4G to some areas of Africa and was always trying his best to help others.
My mom believed that he was living a lavish life all this time whilst we were struggling. My mother never sought work again and my grandma was already nearing her mid 70s by the time of her accident. My father was also suffering and had no one to care for him.
Unbeknownst to me, he was living 20 mins away from me my entire teenage years. I found out after he died that my nmom knew he was in the same city as me. He had been flown back to have better medical care, but his new wife abandoned him. He was alone, and a few weeks before he died, he fell on the floor in his sleep and laid there all night calling for help. No one deserves that. Had I been there, I would've been able to help him.
He decided to fly back home to Africa to see his mother because he felt that his time was near. He was right. He fell into a coma whilst over there and he never woke up. This was last summer. He was 57. I wasn't able to go to his funeral because my mom said that she wouldn't let my sister and I come back into our home. I shouldn't have listened. His wife took everything that he had and I have nothing to remember him by. I don't even know if I was included in a will.
My father never ever ever stopped emailing us, trying to call us and giving us advice, telling us to read, educate ourselves, to think for ourselves, and I never replied out of fear. I learned after he died from his old friend that he loved music. I'm pursuing a career in music production and I'm obsessed with music. I can't even listen to or create music anymore without breaking down and thinking of the joy we could've shared.
For a time I was angry at my dad, but it's now that I'm approaching my mid 20s that I realise I should've been angry at my mom too. She pushed everyone away. I don't know anyone on my dad's side. My aunt died a year before my dad, and I never met my other grandparents or uncles and aunties or cousins. All I have is my mom, sister and my senile grandma.
My mom is my grandma's full time carer, but she has been abusing her out of frustration, continuing to blame my dad and her father for everything that has gone wrong in her life. I haven't been allowed to publicly grieve and she knows I can't forgive her for what she's done to my sister and I.
She feels guilty but like all narcs, she hasn't and will never say sorry, she will never admit that she is the one who fucked up and that most of all, that she stopped trying.
She didn't forgive her father on his deathbed and she's passed that trauma onto me. I will never be able to tell my dad that I loved him and forgave him.
She robbed that from me. That's why I can't forgive her. It's eating me up inside, I wish I thought for myself. I'd be living and not existing

I recently reconnected with my brother a couple years ago after about 7 years of not speaking to him. While I've been talking to him, he's been insistent on my reconnecting with my father too, which I've been incredibly reluctant to do due to the abuse I suffered as a child under my parents. Though what my mother did was unforgivable in my eyes, I felt like I could give my father one last chance, especially after my bro assured me he's changed for the better
What spurs the question in the title is the fact that my father's side of the family is having a funeral soon for the death of my uncle. I have never felt particularly close to him, but I do genuinely want to try reconnecting with my father's side of the family. But, the funeral is across the country, and I won't have money for a rental car to get around by myself; instead, I'll have to rely on transportation from my cousin
This absolutely terrifies me. I don't at all like the thought of not being in control while I'm out there. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but the thing I'm most scared of is them deciding out of the blue, "You know what? We're not taking you back to the airport; you're staying here." It wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened either, so my fears aren't totally unfounded. As a child, my parents were incredibly controlling about where I went and what I did, to the point that I had to essentially steal my own birth certificate and social security card from my mother because she didn't want to give me control over my life
I guess what I'm trying to ask is, would this be illegal if they refused to let me go back home? What could I do if they did that? Could I call the cops? I need to know what my options are here, so if there's anyone who knows and wants to share I'd be extremely grateful

Tough Love
Jacob and his wife were drifting apart. His wife wanted a divorce. He wanted a vacation. He went on a vacation. The vacation was over and it was time to go home. Jacob was to pay for a taxi to take him to the airport. At the time, he was in the city of Eilat, Israel— its lights shined with its crowded sidewalks. Jacob waited for a taxi. The streets buzzed with incoherent chatter. People walked left and right, brushing by him as he stood on the curb. It was eight thirty, and his flight was at eleven. The airport was about an hour and a half inland, so he had to leave now.
* * *
He waited for some time, but when the taxi showed up, he got into the back seat and said hi to the taxi driver. The driver said hi back, and then the driver asked where he wanted to go, and Jacob said to the airport. After this small interaction (they didn’t talk much at first), the taxi driver pressed on the pedal and began driving.
The taxi driver tried to make some small talk, but Jacob didn’t really lead the conversation anywhere. He was too busy looking at the scenery. They drove by the sea for a little while, on the road, just above the beach. The taxi driver’s windows were open, and inside the taxi, he didn’t play any music, so Jacob could hear the sounds of the shore. The horizon with white stars was twinkling, grayish black, with splotches of dark yellow and purple filling up the lowest points of the sky.
* * *
After a while, the road turned away from the beach and went inland. Lines of yellow hills sat on each side of a steep valley. The valley, except for its hills, was at sea level where the river flowed out into the ocean. But the valley’s altitude grew in height as it traveled with the river inland. As one walked beside the river on the sandy road, starting at the shore, the river zig zagged up the valley and went up and into the sky. They drove through the hills, on one of the hill-sides, going up and down and through the windy road. Jacob tried to admire it all, but things like his wife were on his mind. She was beautiful, he thought, with her brown eyes and her brunette hair– so beautiful, he thought.
“Did you enjoy your trip?” The taxi driver asked Jacob.
“I don’t know. I wanted to get away for a little while. My wife’s been bothering me.” Jacob said. He was very buzzed, so he said what came to mind.
“I get that.” The taxi driver paused. “Why’s your wife bothering you?”
“My wife says I work too much. But I think it’s a good thing to support the family. We have large fights over it– screaming fights. Maybe I could have brought her on this trip, but I needed time alone to process it all.” Jacob said. “I don’t think she’s willing to compromise. Maybe I’m not willing to compromise. It probably is my fault, isn’t it?--” Jacob rubbed his eyes with his hands.
“Do you have any kids?” The taxi driver asked.
“I do. I have two kids.”
“Do you see them a lot?”
“I don’t, no. My wife and the nanny take care of them. Why do you ask?”
“Because you seem troubled.”
* * *
“What about you? Do you have a wife?” Jacob asked.
“My wife…? We used to live here in the city. We used to walk alongside the beach. Every year I put a flower by the ocean side. That’s how I feel about my wife. Maybe you should too.” The taxi driver said.
“I don’t know about that.”
“You may be looking at this from the wrong angle… But the way I see it– I don’t know you well, but you seem like you don’t want change to happen.”
“I do want change to happen, but I don’t think I have it in me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not strong enough.”
The taxi driver said nothing.
“Yeah. I think it was my father who did it to me. He used to hit me with the belt, you know? Whenever I came home too late. Sometimes he liked to hit me out of spite.” Jacob said.
“That’s no good.”
“It isn’t, no..” Jacob huffed out loud.
“Maybe you should say sorry to your wife.”
“It wouldn’t do me any good. I’m too deep into this thing already.”
“Then maybe you should think about it.”
“I used to cheat on my wife a lot; I don’t know how many women I got with before she found out.”
“What was the point of it all?”
“Because I’m sad. That’s what I’d like to think.”
“Well, change only comes out of action. You seem like you want to change, but you don’t want to go through the actions.”
“You’re probably right. But what will change about my actions? Nothing, probably.”
“That’s just a mindset.”
“You’re probably right about that, too.”
“Then I think you should think about the small moments. That could help.”
* * *
Jacob was a real-estate lawyer by trade. He worked on writing up the papers for deals for commercial estates. That type of thing. Big business guy. Ironically he didn’t enjoy the work much, but he was told by his father to pursue law because that’s where the money’s made. His father wanted him to be a successful example for his children because that’s what he never was. Jacob never really loved his father. He looked up to him, but he didn’t love him. Maybe he did love him in some ways, but he was a cruel father– the type to belittle him. His mother had died when he was young, so he had no maternal figure to look up to; it was only his father who lived with him and he didn’t really like that.
Jacob was born in the year 1972 as an accident because his mother and father didn’t really know each other too well. The mother and the father, they married after he was born, and the cancer wasn’t found until it was too late so the mother died young. In the ‘80s he went to a normal school district in the city of Cleveland, and his father worked as a construction worker attempting to make ends meet. Sometimes he didn’t, sometimes he did, and food was sometimes put on the table. They lived in a small apartment for which they called home. Sometimes his father liked to beat on him when he got drunk, peppering his face and chest with bruises, bashing his head against the wall. But, it was okay according to his father because that’s really what tough love was.
In his teenage years he used to smoke too much pot and drink with his friends while collecting his own thoughts. When he graduated in the top third of his class, he attended Ohio State University and worked as a waiter at a local bar by campus full time whilst living in the dorms. His eye bags hung low; he was tired most of the time and didn’t really enjoy the amount of work he had but dealt with it. He majored in English because he didn’t like the sciences much; he was a humanities guy by choice. He never really talked to his father once he went to college (although his father reached out to him on numerous occasions), living for himself, and he met a woman in that college that he fancied, and they loved each other mutually. The normal stuff.
Well, the dad got cancer of the pancreas, and he died soon after. His girlfriend thought that he’d cry at the funeral. She tried to comfort him, put her head on his shoulder, etc, but he never attended it, nor did he cry. He was above all that crying stuff.
In grad school the two got married, and after graduating from law school he had some kids, but he didn’t raise them much because he was too busy with work. He had to be the man of the house, of course– the man his father wasn’t. Ironically that came with the estrangement of his kids. The nanny could take care of them, as long as he worked, he thought. He made enough money for a nanny, he thought.
Though his wife didn’t like the idea of his callousness. She always thought he was that type, but when he worked too much (they made a lot of money with their big house and their fancy cars), that’s when the two began to drift apart. He used to stay overnight at his office instead of coming home, not really liking that family stuff. He used to cheat on his wife a lot; he probably had gotten with six to seven women before his wife even figured it out. He improved on it though, but their relationship was already strained— it was never the same thereafter.
* * *
When they reached the airport, Jacob got out of the taxi, and a wave of hot air hit him as he took his luggage out from the trunk, his shirt blowing in the wind. It was very warm at night with moisture in the air. He paid the taxi driver, leaving the driver a tip, and Jacob took his luggage and headed into the airport.
“Did you at least enjoy your trip?” The taxi driver called over to Jacob as he walked into the opening gates. But Jacob said nothing.
On the plane, it was very late in Israel, so most of the people on board slept, Jacob included. He slept for a while, and when he woke up, he drank his coffee and watched the gray blobs wandering in the sky.
When the plane landed, it was very late. It was the last flight to dock in the airport for the night. He waited for his luggage, and when he got it, he walked out into the cold air and took another taxi drive home.
He reached his home in the suburbs. When he opened the door, he entered a pitch black living room. He turned the light on and then sat in his kitchen, at the counter, where he poured himself a glass of brandy. Jacob thought and thought that night. Without a drive to change, nothing can change.
He walked up the stairs and entered the bedroom of where his wife slept, glass of brandy in hand, pretty drunk at this point. He sat on her side of the bed, but he didn’t shake her awake— no. He just sat there, contemplating his life choices. There was nothing he could do, nothing to change the eventual outcome of the predicament of his own doing. He said “sorry” to her as she slept, tears streaming down from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” he said quietly as he sat there, thinking about the small moments, alone.

I know this is hard to believe for skeptics especially on reddit, but if you're spiritual like most Aaliyah fans who are keeping her legacy alive, these 2 are the ones that I believe:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zoZtPX1cbBQ
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7SpajvbObrQ
For superfans channeling Aaliyah with Tarot cards and the sorts, they tend contaminate what they heard on the news, rumors, and documentaries to cast judgement on the cards drawn instead of having actual channeled Aaliyah tell her story because similar to her music, the message she is trying to convey is sweet yet subtle while hiding the complicated truths to unveil on their own to those who are more in tune with the details. People using cards tend to cast judgement too harshly on what ambiguities they mean and try to shovel this narrative that conspiracy theory videos already exploited with clickbait.
I feel like the tarot card readings are a sham because if you are a good storyteller already familiar with her story trying to convey an agenda with a few slight-of-hand parlour tricks, you can just tell a story and hide all the cards that don't go with the narrative...there are videos where people literally drew a boar but because a boar didn't have anything to do with Aaliyah, she put it back in the deck and reshuffled...she also drew 3 cards in advance for a clickbait narrative without actually getting them by random or the cards were color coded to begin with so she knew what to pick even upon shuffling.
Similar to those psychics who are held captive by the powers that be, they tend to have platinum hair and the first thing they do after being freed is to cut their hair and dye it brown to diminish their psychic/ESP abilities so to be less useful for their handlers. For that one guy who has this device that plays the voice of dead people, that guy just chops up random vocals from old clips and make it talk like that, prior to AI covers, as some type of necro performance arts to desperate and gullible people for views. For his Kobe video, it's not even Kobe's voice, because fans have watched enough of Kobe interviews to know which interview those chopped clips came from, so that's why it's in another voice -- debunked
Watch her other videos channeling other souls of Left Eye, Diana, and 2Pac -- it's easier to actually conduct an interview and upload back to back with new subtle details, do an impression of their active voice of how they feel present day, and what direction of conversation they want to lead than to do all the background research like for a documentary piece just to fake their personality, because people change over time, especially after death, with time to reflect on it all from the vantage point to review what really happened that led them down their path.

Notes from the 2 videos: watch them for yourself to draw your own conclusions and turn on captions to note the subtleties, but like for any veteran Aaliyah fan, links go down or missing all the time so take heed to save. I actually had something tugging at my heart almost like a backseat editor to present the notes as accurately as possible from what was reported in the videos. For these notes, I don't have this distinction between her energy/soul/spirit and I use them interchangeably in case there is a distinction. The eternal present is not aligned with the human perception of time so her soul can traverse her life from the vantage point of how old she was then and visit other memories of past lives. Her current soul identifies as Aaliyah in her past life but she has moved beyond that spiritually to be identified as who she truly is.
Both channelers got signs that her soul wanted to speak either in signals from their dreams or being awakened with signs of her presence. Her soul got the attention of one channeler by portraying herself as Akasha from Queen on the Damned, because her initial sign was somewhat naively ignored. The other more veteran channeler basically read her star chart and found her soul by meditating to find the distinct outline of her spirit and personality. They literally have the outline spirit of Aaliyah here in front of them while they were doing the video where her spirit could correct them in the middle of talking if they got something wrong. I like how in the middle of these soul channeling conversations, her soul is actively telling the channeler to look and interview other souls like Whitney and Left Eye as more evidence that the industry is vile and deceptive like that.
Aaliyah's mom was supposed to be the superstar singer that Aaliyah came to be back in the 80s, but Aaliyah's mom had a pregnancy and stalled her career to raise a child with Aaliyah's dad, who was a bit passive in the relationship. Aaliyah's soul upon reflection realized that at a young age that Aaliyah was given positive conditioning to sing, dance, and perform not realizing what she really wanted in life but she grew to appreciate it and be good at it by living her mother's dreams vicariously through her to be in childhood servitude for entertainment value. Because she was positioned in an entertainment family, it was said that her soul constantly chose these type of families to be born in -- lifetime after lifetime of entertainment servitude for being dependent upon for raising overall family wealth and status -- and that her soul in the afterlife said that she is thriving alongside older women idols (including Whitney Houston and her Grandmother) to figure out who she really is, by identifying and correcting who she really wanted to be to not fall into another life like that. The soul is said to be a thousand to a million years old and they spend time living life (sometimes being indoctrinated or groomed to become a certain individual by families who predetermine your life when you are born), taking time in between lives, and going back and forth in between realms of existence almost like a conditioning for the soul to learn from its own strengths and mistakes when pit against the realities that be. Her soul at the present is thriving and fully disassociated herself from the entertainment industry and when the Channeler praised that "Aaliyah was a good dancer, singer, and performer" at 13:18 in the second video, her soul was actually saying "what?" and disagreeing because her soul moved beyond that identity in the afterlife.
In terms of the R Kelly relationship, both videos said that there was a pregnancy and a pregnancy scare associated with an unnamed family member and R Kelly, respectively. The faces of the channeler reflected how hard of a topic it was for her with regrets and sadness. There was sexual abuse at a young age and because Aaliyah was inside a family record label business which was more ran like a gang-organized crime ring, it was like a pyramid scheme inside a pyramid scheme structure because her family signed off on and was aware of a lot of things she had to do in the industry for her to advance her career when she was just a minor. Her soul also admitted when asked that more than one person in the family including her uncle had sexual advances towards her when she was 12-13 and she was later married to "protect the family asset." In the Chris Brown video remixing "Don't Think They Know" with Aaliyah, there was a lot of imagery where the Bloods that Chris Brown initially was a part of represented "The Family music business" with children and adults -- it was a homely vibe but your royalties are diminished by two layers of pyramid schemes. Then Chris Brown moved and joined the Crips, which were more males, which represented "rappers and industry sharks like Dame Dash" that Aaliyah associated herself with to remove herself from the family business and deal directly with labels. Near the end of the music video, the whites of Chris Brown eyes were shown representing her death and the last scene had him be with all different colors and children as a depiction of heaven, representing unity and no longer associating gang-organized crime by colors. Aaliyah was very intuitive and realized that her talent is multiplied by image for her branding of music to sell -- There are plenty of talented individuals that became ghostwriters because the general public requires image, which creates the branding package to drive sales and relevancy. Therefore, half the interview in one of the channeling sessions had her soul emphasize how protective she was of her image and how her image was affected in a series of events in her life. In terms of Kelly's current image, her soul says that his reactions to the accusations have gotten him to look more guilty than who he actually is and that he himself was in servitude of his environment being born into these type of families with entertainment expectations.
Both Channelers made it their point to revile R Kelly as their separate opinion, but when they asked her soul about it, she explained that R Kelly is a sweet person ("sweet" being a word she commonly said in a particular intonation -- remember this is her soul speaking in the present and not from past conversations with Dame) who wants to do good but has different compartments in his head, where he forgets all the misdeeds that he did or was a part of, from issues stemming from his own upbringing of musical servitude and sexual abuse, which alter his perception towards females. Kelly and Aaliyah have similar backgrounds in victimhood from similar family pressures to succeed and be harvested for wealth and status to benefit the gang-organized crime ring AKA the family-run music business, so a lot of things her soul said was deemed "normal" sounds outrageous for the general public to hear and were brushed under the rug to keep moving forward. Her soul said things were done behind the scenes to protect the image of both and cannot be directly explained because the general public wouldn't understand it. Her parents were well aware she was pregnant and got the paperwork to get a marriage certificate to get an abortion, where the hormone imbalance stunted some of her growth as a woman. The channeler saw some type of pill being exchanged through a mouth to mouth kiss between Kelly and Aaliyah. The marriage was not out of love but was a ritual exchange of goods and services to protect both families' musical assets, like back when royal families strategically married to form alliances and to exchange their resources more evenly. The marriage was initially set up to protect Aaliyah from being preyed by the sexual predators of the industry when in studio collaborations, but that ended up being R Kelly and blackballed her career by her second album to work with new producers after the marriage certificate leaked by a rival record company. Since Aaliyah's first album was mostly produced and written by R Kelly, it may have also been used for accounting purposes to split the profits more evenly or claim tax benefits once they were married to satisfy both family-ran music businesses (which is similar to Jay-Z's and Beyonce's marriage seen more as a business merger). It was later annulled because the public found out, which leveraged the outrage towards Kelly to give up the proceeds of his first 3 albums to Aaliyah's family, except that Barry managed both artists, so the majority of the money literally moved from his left pocket to his right pocket.
Her soul said Aaliyah realized that she could wield her sexuality, body, and confidence as a flirtatious tool in exchange for goods and services without having to participate in sexual acts to be worth value and move into that power. For the sake of her image gaining relevancy to rise up the pyramid scheme to have more control and autonomy over her career, she was proud and not ashamed to use it because of how sexualized the industry is. She used her sexuality as her empowerment to woo strong male figures into her life that she could trust (DMX, Dame) to protect her more from her family and shady industry individuals who 'expected' her to perform for granted and on harsh schedules/deadlines without much royalties going to her. Her soul reflected and said that she should have taken the industry for granted instead of deeming it as a chore to complete, and instead should have taken a break, where she could have gotten married and had kids with Dame regardless of limelight relevancy, which she still regrets not being able to start her own family. Her soul made it a point to analyze her facial expressions to when she was "feeling it" or when it was done out of haste to impress certain authorities. Her soul said that manipulating sexuality for personal gain does destroy something within you spiritually but she was incorporating it for the image and hopefully fans can separate what is depicted by the media versus what truly happened. Her soul said that Aaliyah really loved Dame Dash and what benefited her was that Dame was the cofounder of Rocafella records, which would have gotten her leverage and the connections to move away from her family-ran music label and directly negotiate her deal. Her soul said that her uncle was nefarious and he was losing control and rank in the pyramid scheme that he made with his music label. She was in the middle of being freed from Blackground records to record new material under her control but because she died, he got to keep the majority of the unreleased recordings while her estate was responsible for her image. As stated, the image in tandem with the artistic talents in music are multiplied to propel the branding for relevancy and sales. The estate doesn't want her music to profit the wrong individuals in the family business except that both need to work together for her legacy to be revived. She has a heartfelt message to her fans who uphold and still bring her legacy into prominence after all these years.
Outside of Whitney Houston (that she is really good friends with), her soul kept on pointing to Jennifer Lopez to the channeler in terms of similarities in industry arrival -- JLo was doing dance, Latin, and pop music on her first albums before she transitioned into hip hop and R&B with the help of industry heads in Diddy and Tommy Mottola buying leftover shelved demos from Usher and Brandy, etc and emulating Mariah Carey singles before having Ashanti and Natasha Ramos, etc craft her next singles. JLo leveraged her sexuality to woo heads of record labels (similar to the gentler, natural relationship that Aaliyah found with Dame), where JLo was used to fill the R&B void that Aaliyah left, outside of the rise of Ashanti, Mya, Beyonce, Ciara, Keri Hilson, revival of Monica, etc where Missy was helping some of them succeed. Aaliyah would have found a more flattering way to produce hits and be a trendsetter without harming relationships with other artists in the industry. At the time of her Red album, she said her uncle and his shady industry partners were losing the battle for control and custody over her and she was supposed to be set free from her Blackground label. Her soul said Jay-Z was nefariously scheming over her but wanted her to be in servitude for him in marriage, which is why in the pictures Jay grabbed her by the waist to dance with her (pay attention to facial expressions, similar to how worried she looked at the Nas I Am album release party). She said Jay was wanting to control her towards something sinister to cover up his own insecurities, and that he wanted to teach her a lesson for choosing Dame (which was also why later Dame got screwed out the deal when Rocafella folded and was sold to Def Jam). The Rocafella hand symbol was just a representation reminder for those climbing the pyramid to aim for the top, for how the industry is structured. For example, Kanye took advantage of Rocafella Records and Dame Dash by having his creative output of The College Dropout without the standardization of how rap records were supposed to sound like, where every song Aaliyah sang about was about Love and relationships for R&B records, dictated by her uncle. She was more in control and freeform being in a relationship with Dame, where she said she truly loved him, had a heart connection, and was happy with him.
Upon reflecting on the day of her death, her soul said that her uncle was losing leverage towards controlling her (where she made the majority of the record label's profits) and how she was about to be freed from her uncle's record label. The shady industry conglomerates that her uncle had shady dealings with were also upset and her soul said there were a consortium of shadowy industry conspirators that wanted her demise to control and profiteer off her discography had she died, from how 2Pac and Biggie's music sold way more as one last huzzah before they were supposed to get out their initial contracts and launch their own independent labels. Given that Blackground did a new deal with Virgin Records for her Red album after leaving Atlantic after OIAM, look into Richard Branson (who was associated with Jeffery Epstein, a wall-street magnate) and how the new label backed out and dropped Aaliyah when she died so they wouldn't have to pay for funeral services. Because Aaliyah was dropped from Virgin records after death, Blackground records stopped receiving payments and the funeral bill of $60k went to the estate to cover, where Maxwell picked up the tab. Obviously, she had a premonition dream about her death being floating and weightless from some entity chasing her where all her worries wisped away.
She had a bad feeling about the plane. Her soul reflected that there was something wrong with the airplane tire pressure and one of the airplane instruments was being tampered with and was malfunctioning done on purpose to sabotage the plane. The heavyset man was probably her 300 pound bodyguard discussing some type of deal with the pilot to get them back into the states that she wasn't paying attention to happening in the background. She said that the pilot was the fall guy placed in that position and that the autopsy report saying that there were traces of cocaine and alcohol was a "media trick" to impress upon the public something was at fault with the pilot. It was said that the airplane pilot was the son of a veteran pilot and he had many undocumented hours when flying as a kid with his dad because he had an innate skill to fly without having proper documentation procedures. The pilot was put in this predicament of being on probation for stealing airplane parts and was pressured to fly to keep his job. Her soul said that at the time, she was blind sighted by her anger and the pursuit for her career to be successful and to prove the executives at Virgin Records wrong that 'Rock the Boat' was a good single to be release for her album. Because of this anger, he soul said that she claimed responsibility for flying out a day early to catch other deadlines of recording the Timbaland remix to more than a woman and a feature with Freeway in Miami and that the pressures that resulted in her decisions and actions created hasty judgement overlooking the obvious danger signs and common sense of overloaded/unbalanced luggage. She said that once they were in the air and the plane began to dip and the pilot had to readjust, it was reported in the autopsy report that she died of a shock to the system from a weak heart, suggesting that she was in a coma. She was found 20 feet away from the wreckage where there was one bruise on her forehead and she was in a fetal position. One of the channelers said that when she fainted in midair from her anxiety of flying, she actually felt no pain from the impact and transitioned to the other side where there was a rescue for her soul by her Grandmother that she honored on her red album.
Her soul said that it took her soul 4 years after her death to piece together what had happened that lead her down this path and how to correct for it. She said in her afterlife, she is surrounded by older women as guidance, especially her Grandmother and Whitney, to learn the lessons of not choosing her mortal life path to be stuck in this life of expectation and servitude of having entertainment as a chore to complete for the dangling pursuit of true freedom, but to choose freedom from expectations the minute it appears instead of toil in the guise of it being a careereputation to uphold. She was on the right path towards finding true love with Dame without using marriage as a business pact. She got the upper hand but because she was so low on the pyramid structure of the industry, the powers that be can pull the plug or interfere from her attempts to get free even though she came so close into doing so. Her soul has learned to not pattern her lifetime to be born into these families with entertainment expectations. She said that life is one big stage and some choose the spotlight but everyone has this expectation to contribute to become something. Certain families that your soul ends up being born in have certain agendas for their kids -- they give you the luxuries of life but you have to serve their agenda instead of letting souls pick up life on how they naturally want to be. Her soul said that in order to correct this, she is thriving in the afterlife towards identifying who she really is and recognize the pattern of what life she wants to pick up next without falling into the same situations. My thoughts are that she was so different and had so much style and swag and stood alone that she was a trendsetter without being one by proving to the public she can be her own without following any previous standards or expectations. Even though she was put into that life, she took over and quintessentially became her own person with humility, class, and grace -- people eventually become divas almost as a defense mechanism because of how brutal the industry is towards casting judgement or casting falsehoods about your character because of their struggle for power, greed, and control.
Her souls' words to her mother said that she loved and forgave her in terms of being casted the expectations to perform in industry at such a young age before she had her own impressions of what she wanted in life. She had a lot of good laughter and fond memories but it was in a somber tone due to all the secrets kept. Her soul said that she loved her brother with a lot of emotion and she will never speak badly about him for defending her reputation. She said industry politics got in the way of true progress on her legacy and it wasn't up to the spiritual realm for when her legacy is fully restored to the public. Her soul said that she sacrificed the parts of herself that she understands and identifies with now for the branding and the image of Aaliyah but nobody can decide who you choose your life to be but it is manipulated by the media and family to chase certain ideologies and lifestyles over others. The last message her soul had was that there is a 10 year old girl with her similar looks and poise that they are bringing to the public, who also have this strong connection to her Grandmother, except that this is coming from another entertainment family where the kid is positioned to perform out of expectation and they are drawing inspiration from Aaliyah to mimic and recreate her energy for another money grab. Notice that the 2 videos were done in 2017 and 2019, so they have no way to name that individual except that Blue Ivy was mentioned by her Grandmother that she reminded her of Aaliyah on IG recently, so Blue Ivy is probably the person her soul is talking about that they are trying to rechannel her energy through this little girl as a part of their family entertainment business. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BLOuP7WxP-Q If the channelers had "lucky guesses", then how did they stick their neck out and predict that 4-6 years in advance without even having a name?
If there are other channeling videos that you deem to be legit without the cards, let me know.

Obligatory I’m on mobile so I apologize for formatting.
Some basic info, I’m the youngest of my mom’s kids with my older brother being 4 years older, and the oldest being 6 years older than me. Our parents divorced when I was an infant and they both remarried when I was 2.
I don’t remember it but when we were young my brothers called CPS multiple times because he was “beating them.” I remember when I was older and saw pictures of the bruises he left on my older brother that covered his lower back to his thighs. CPS just told them where they could hit their kids and it still be called discipline.
When my oldest brother was about 15/16, my mother’s husband slapped him across the face for hiding his report card. He left and went to live with our dad and my mom would just say, “he left on Mother’s Day because we asked too much from him by asking him to keep his grades at a ‘C’ or up.”
After he left there was an incident a couple days after Christmas. I used to always open the door for them when they would come home from the bar and that night my brother asked me to just stay on the couch and not open it. So I did. Then I heard a thump on the door and ran to open it. I saw my mother laying on the porch screaming up at her husband that she wanted a divorce. He had pushed her up the steps into the door. After they sent us to bed and argued for a while, she came and got my brother and I asked us to get dressed, we’re leaving. She drove around the neighborhood while my brother begged her to not go back. We went back. They didn’t talk for days and I just stayed in my brothers room with him while he played metal gear solid because it was better than dealing with them. They went out for New Year’s Eve and came back like nothing happened. We were dumbfounded.
The next incident was on Oct 15th, 2006, it was a Friday and I was home reading Inkdeath. At this point both of my brothers were out of the house, I believe. After I finished the book and just hung out in my room. Then I heard them come home and the yelling started. I heard him let the 2 dogs out of the cages and tell her to sleep with the fucking dogs, before he went back to their room and slammed the door. I snuck out to see if she was alright and saw that she had a busted lip and bruising was starting to form around her eyes. She told me to go back to my room. Not long after she came and got me and we left. We went to McDonald’s and the drive thru worker asked if she wanted them to call the police for her and she told them she already had. We went back after the police took him away. He had to stay away for 3 months and take anger management and alcohol classes before he was allowed to return home.
One night after I moved out when I was 24/25 she texted asking me to come get her. I saw the red handprint on her face but she refused to let me call the cops.
Side story: Christmas is my favorite time of year. Every Christmas Eve is spent with my dad’s side of the family and Christmas with my mom. My dad’s mom died at the end of October in 2018 and I had to go to her funeral on my birthday. As you can imagine, I was looking forward to a bittersweet Christmas Eve with my family seeing as it was the first Christmas without our grandmother.
Next incident Christmas Eve 2018, I left my friend’s house to head over to my dad’s house and as soon as I walked out the door I received a text from my mother. “Please come get me.” I didn’t know the full story yet but I could guess what happened. She was at her neighbor’s house and I took her to my apartment. I got a picture of her face to send to my brothers with the caption, “she won’t let me call the police.” My older brother called from 2 states away and left me know they were heading to my apartment. When he got there he asked about prior incidents and I mention the October 15th, 2006 date. She tells him what happened that night. He choked her because she didn’t cook his fish correctly. She made me take her back the next day. A month later my oldest brother came down and moved her up to his place. She stayed until summer, because at that time she wasn’t chauffeuring her grandkids to and from school. She moved back home to live with him again. It took months for him to be taken into custody, and released not long after.
I don’t know when the next incident happened because she tried to hide it from us. But I learned from her neighbor he was taken away around July/August of 2022. She just told me today what went down. My uncle was supposed to come down to visit, and with everything that happened, that meant her husband would have to stay somewhere else while he was visiting. So her husband took a gun and fired it at her head 5 times. Thankfully the gun was empty. She went next door, the police came and took him away, and also their guns. According to the neighbor she seemed more upset that they took the guns because the one he used was a gift from her father and she wanted it back. I can’t remember exactly how long he was away, but they begged the person in charge of making him legally not enter the house to please let him go back home otherwise they’d go broke or have to sell the house. So he’s back.
I’m low contact with my mother but after finding this out I don’t know what to do.
Thank you to anyone who took the time to read this. Just getting it out and off my chest helps and my next therapy appointment isn’t until next Friday. Thanks again.

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Hey there nerds and weirdos, here's my Beth May is a superhero, dungeons and daddies is the best, and hooooo boy did i realize i have a lot of baggage i need to deal with, appreciation post. Two weeks prior to thanksgiving 2022, an old high school friend of mine jumped into a rented ford MachE mustang, pointed it south and began the long trip to a cabin on Mount Hood, Oregon for a DnD weekend. We were both excited to continue our campaign we started earlier in the year. I’d get to reprise the roll of Snu Snu, half orc Barbarian, who is a dumb but smashy chap. I like my Dnd Characters to have a delusion, like the orc barbarian that was convinced he was a “blood wizard”, or the halfling rogue who was trying to convince everyone he was a brave warrior when in fact he was a coward. It’s fun playing flawed characters in Dnd, i think it sorta breaks the mold of playing heroes on an important quest. I like flawed characters in film, tv, literature, probably because I am a flawed character. Person. I’m a flawed person. I’m real, despite sometimes not wanting to be so some of the time. We started our journey in Seattle Washington, our GPS said it would be a four hour trip at two hundred and fifteen miles, the mache e was advertised to have a range of 110 miles…. I immediately realized I had made a critically failed my intelligence roll. 215 miles was greater than 110 miles. After two hours of bumper to bumper traffic, I needed to charge the car to get to our destination and despite my undeserved confidence, charging an electric car is more difficult and slower than I had expected. You have to find a fast charger, the right fast charger, and download the app associated with it, fill out a bunch of personal info, then start the charging process, which I remind you was referred to as “fast” but in fact takes over an hour. I’d fucked up. Our friends were already at the cabin we had rented, they had their character sheets in one hand, beers in the other and they were just waiting for us. I thought i’d already ruined the trip and we hadn’t made it out of the state. I asked my friend what he’d want to listen to while we sat and waited for the car to gain enough range to make it to our cabin on the edge of the forgotten realms. Ok, i didn’t say that, that was me trying to sound impressive and like i’m a good writer. You get it, or at least i hope you get it. My friend knew that i love podcasts, so he suggested we listen to a DND themed podcast to get in the mood, i asked which one, and he suggested Dungeons and Daddies. He said it was really funny, and he thought i’d like it. So, i found it in my podcatcher, went to season one episode one and started listening. We listened for the entire ride to the cabin, and then back again. I immediately loved the show. There’s something about podcasts, I'm not sure exactly what it is, but to me it feels like I really get to know the hosts/characters on the show. I think podcasts create a false sense of intimacy between the listener and the hosts. I think it’s because I mainly listen to podcasts alone and and it feels like the hosts/characters are talking to me. Or that I'm a fly on the wall of a really fun place, and I get to quietly observe these hilarious people. Is it because I listen in headphones or in my car? Maybe. Anyway, I know I get a false sense of intimacy, but sometimes I like to pretend it isn’t, or maybe I forget that it isn’t. I’m not sure, but these people don’t know me, and I don't know them, not really. So, after our weekend of DND, we drove back to Seattle, and by the time I was back at my house, I was ten episodes into Dungeons and Daddies. Over the last three weeks It had become my new audio obsession. I was hooked and I listened to it in the gym, on dog walks, while I cooked for my family, while I drove, every moment of silence I had was filled with the dads in the forgotten realm. I LOVE this show like I imagine many of you do because it’s funny, smart and dumb at the same time, it has great improvisation, an interesting story, fun characters who are out of place, and is honestly very touching and more emotionally impactful than I'd ever have imagined. As I got further down the season one rabbit hole, I began finding myself gravitating to Ron Stampler as my favorite daddy storyline. Beth’s performance is just fantastic, and even before episode 61,, where Ron has to give his dog away, Ron’s story and Beth’s performance was bringing me to tears.
I’m a dad, I have a son who is eight. In my life, there are only two Dads in my immediate family, see my wife’s father passed away when she was eight, there’s me and my dad. Well.. oh boy. My dad is kinda a nightmare. Not like Willy is a nightmare, my Dad is more like a crumpled and faded poster of a black and white monster movie, it’s sometimes more sad than scary. My dad was gone a lot when I was a kid. He was on business trips for pretty much eighty percent of my childhood. At one point he was American airlines third most flown person in the world, no joke. He’d fly to Germany on Monday, Japan on Wednesday, and then back to Oregon on friday. The good thing was we were able to fly back to my parents home country in the summer and at christmas, and the whole family usually flew for free because of his frequent flier miles. Those trips were GREAT times, I’d see my cool cousins, we’d eat awesome candy, visit castles, see the sleeping giants and all other manner of family fun. But, in normal life, I'd see him Friday night where he’d crash out, then when he woke up on Saturday he’d be grumpy, groggy and easy to anger. Those were the really good times I remember with my Dad when I was growing up, but I also remember him being angry, depressed, mean and sometimes he’d hurt me. I’m not saying that he hit me or my brother or mom on a regular occasion, that he was a drunk or anything, but there were times where he’d take things too far and I'd get hurt. For example, i must have been ten or eleven when my Dad, Brother and I went to a christian rock festival.We had to kill some time in the parking lot before the doors opened to rock n roll jesus. So my dad had the idea to teach us the spoons game. It’s like the game where you put your hands out palm up, and the other player places their hands on your hands palm down. You try to slap the other player’s hands while they try to evade your slaps. Got it? There’s gotta be a name for that game, slappies or something…
Well, for some reason we had some cutlery in the back of the car, maybe we had a picnic before the show, i don’t remember why, but we had shiny metal spoons for some reason. He taught us “the spoon game” by instructing me to make fists, and put them out in front of myself. He held spoons, one in each hand, and placed the bottom of the spoon on the top of my knuckles. My goal was to move my hands out of the way of the spoons as he tried to hit my knuckles with them. We played for what seemed like 15 minutes and he hit me every-time and with each successful hit he grew happier, and laughed harder. At first it stung, then it ached, then it was like this bubbling cauldron of pain and frustration was exploding inside me. When I could hardly hold my hands still because I was so angry, hurt and embarrassed, I burst into tears when my hands were red and beginning to bruise. I ran away from him, I just took off up the improvised road in the parking lot. He came after me, apologized to me and gave me a hug. We never played that game again. That’s just the kind of guy he was, and as I got older I realized some of the myriad of reasons he was that way. Firstly, he was an orphan, he and his brother were dropped off at an orphanage when he was three and his brother was five. I can only assume catholic orphanages in the 1950’s were not a great place to have some of your first memories. Although he’s never talked about it to me, I’m sure they’ve affected him. About a year later he and his brother were adopted by my grandparents, who in their 40’s decided to adopt two brothers aged four and six. I adored my grandparents, they were amazing people. They were blue-collar folks, my grandfather was a coal miner, with amazing stories and two sheds full of treasures which my grandmother called junk my brother and I got to paw through. Sure, he picked it up off the side of the road, but they were treasures, not junk in my or my brothers eyes. My grandfather walked from Wales to Scotland with his brother when he was nine years old to get work in the coal mines of Scotland. His sister, she was a boat captain and smuggler during the Spanish civil war who ran guns, food and medical supplies to the anti fascists. My Grandmother learned sign language so she could communicate and help THE deaf family in the village when the mother of that family fell gravely ill. But, it was the 1950’s and 1960’s so no matter how great their lives stories were, hitting kids was super normal, or at least that’s what my father and mother experienced. I’m sure he had a lot of trauma he never dealt with when he became a father in his late twenties. When we were kids, he was the sole breadwinner, his job was probably really taxing and took a lot out of him, he was away from his family a lot, and you know, traveling for work and living in hotels sucks. That’s not to excuse his behavior, I just try to, you know, put him in context of the stress he was under that I was too young to know about. It’s easier for me to believe that he’s not inherently bad, but shaped by his environment, it’s just easier for me that way. Judge away. It’s complicated. When I was twelve he lost his job, his brother committed suicide, and his funeral he found out he had 4 half sisters in Scotland who his brother had known about, and not told him about for almost a decade. It was a bad year with a silver lining. I watched him retreat into depression, longing, and joy of finding his new sisters. When i got out of college, he had his fourth back surgery. He had ruptured another disc in his lower back, and required another Discectomy . However, during the healing process he got an infection, one that raised his fever to a dangerous level that resulted in brain damage. From that point on, he wasn’t mean. He wasn’t cruel. He was confused, stubborn, repetitive, annoying and a shadow of his former intellectual self. So, I pity my father. Over this thanksgiving he decided to drive us back to my house from our extended families thanksgiving celebration. He drove into oncoming traffic because we had told him to take the next left, which he interpreted as take a left right now. No one was hurt. My son was in the car and was very scared.
And all I could think about was Ron Stampler. Listening to the end of season one gave me a lot of feelings. Listening to how Willy treated Ron wasn’t like my life with my father, not beat for beat, but a lot of the emotional beats seemed similar. Suddenly my father being absent for most of my early childhood was similar to the emotional abandonment Willy treated Ron. I saw how Willy was dismissive and cruel to Ron, and it brought back a bunch of memories I hadn’t contextualized. The spoons game for example, I had just blocked that off, not thought about it for decades, and when Willy was being so cruel to Ron, it just reminded me of that afternoon in a parking lot outside of a Jesus festival. So, my dad never made me give my dog away, but he did lose my dog once. Like, his story is that he took him to the groomer and the dog just bolted and we never saw Mocha again. Holy shit. I… I just remembered that. I want to break the cycle. I don’t want to pass on the bullshit my Dad did to me, I don’t want my the way I feel less than, incomplete, wrong and not god damn good enough onto my sweet boy. He doesn’t deserve any of that, I mean no kid does, but I’m NOT going to do that to him. I struggle with being a father a lot. I’m always second guessing myself, always worried that i’ll slip into a casual cruelty that will forever leave deep emotional scars in my sweet son the way my dad did to me. My son is an emotional kid, like I was. My son has the biggest heart you’ll ever see in a child his age. He loves everyone he meets, treats them as dear friends, and is always the first to lend a hand, a shoulder to cry on, a hug, or the shirt off his back. For christ's sake, this halloween he gave a bunch of his candy to his friends brother on the night of halloween. The younger brother was too tired to do the second round of trick or treating, it was past his bedtime. We were having a little party for halloween because we go crazy for halloween. Decorations, lights, family costume themes, full sized cady bars for trick or treaters, the whole nine yards. My son’s friends parents were attending the party, So I took my son and his friend on 2nd round of trick or treating. It was awesome, we were the last group of trick or treaters to be seen and our neighborhood was just dumping candy into the kids bags. DUMPING. When we got home, with our heavy haul the brother was upset that he didn’t go back out and get candy, so my kid just gave him all he wanted. If you’re not a parent of a young kid, let me be clear- candy is the hard drugs of childhood. Kids can be junkies for that sweet sweet candy.
That’s the kind of selfless eight year old I have, just handing over his own kiddy crack to someone he cares about without a second thought. Just today I realized he put a board game on his list to Santa, because it’s my wife’s favorite board game. He wants HER to have it, so he’s asking the all mighty and powerful Santa to bring something for him, so he can make his mom happy. What a kid. Listening to the Dungeons and Daddies made me think a lot about my dad, my baggage, what Dad I wanted to be. I have committed myself to not passing on generational trauma to my sweet, sweet boy. Listening to Beth May craft such a beautiful arch for Ron opened up a pandora's box of emotion including hope, anger, sadness and love. Ron was able to take the first steps of breaking the cycle of abuse that Willy passed on to him, and I’m ready to do the same. I hope to be as smart, brave, insightful and cool as Ron frickin’ Stampler. Thank you Daddies, thank you Anthony, Thank you Beth. I did not expect that this horny and violent podcast would be so therapeutic and eye opening to me.

On the morning of February 6th 2021 I received a call that my best friend(29) had been shot and killed at her home in Union City, GA. I had moved across the country and we had not talked since the end of November as we had gotten into a spat. Occasionally we would disagree and for awhile both would be too stubborn to reach out but we loved each other and would always make up. Id give anything to have been able to talk to her those last few months. Since I learned of the news I cannot find anything about her death. There was no funeral or viewing just a memorial as I was told her mother donated her body to science. There is no obituary, no reports of shootings, nothing. I’ve done my best to search for any information on what happened but I have been unsuccessful. After joining this sub I was amazed at how helpful everyone is and figured I would shoot my shot. I just want to know what happened to my friend.
Edit: None of our friends know anything other than the info that I have provided. I spoke to her baby daddy and all said was she was shot in the house but I have been unable to verify any of the information as it is all hearsay.
Edit again: I will not be contacting her family. I am more interested in police reports, death certificates etc. I’m very much a facts person and I’m hoping it would help with closure as it’s something I think about every moment of every day.

Hi all, 24F here. Sorry in advance for the long read!
Haven't posted in this sub before but I'm a bit at a loss, so some background:
My Dad is a severe alcoholic (when 'sober' he would still blow a 0.4), and very narcissistic. His drinking began being an issue when I was age 5 and progressed from there, taking a real cliff dive when I entered HS at age 13 where it spiraled faster than ever.
My very first memory is getting drug out of a store by my mother after checking out groceries, and her sitting me down in our neighbor's car who drove us to the store. I can't remember exactly what I said, but I told the cashier something about my Dad's drinking because it was normal to me, and when my mom sat me down she put the fear of god into me because she was scared. Told me I couldn't tell anyone outside of our family about these things, and if I did, my brothers and I could get taken away from her. She asked me "Do you want that? Do you want to do that to your brothers?" The answer I gave was obviously, no, because I didn't hardly understand things with Dad then, but loved her and my 2 younger brothers greatly. So I was five when I learned to stop speaking about it. Looking back he was definitely narcissistic then too, just less instensely so. He'd get to go have fun with his friends, but if my mom did similar it was an issue. My mom raised us and he brought home money but that was about it, he didn't even assist her appropriately after her 2nd and 3rd C-Sections because he was so unempathetic to her struggles. I think my mom often ignored these red flags at the time because of us children and the fact she was just glad he was out of the house most times. All this is to say, I don't remember a time before his alcoholism and narcissism. This has been an issue in my life from the very first moment I can remember, however my Mom's sister, who now loathes the man, also used to like him a lot, so I've thought perhaps some of his Narcissistic actions were tied to his drinking and not true NPD.
As his alcoholism progressed and I aged, I was able to identify just how screwed up he was. He definitely fell in the Vulnerable and Covert Narc categories. We endured many kinds of abuse minus physical (although there was pushing occasionally and he made it clear he wanted to hit us), but that was only because physical abuse was the line my Momma had drawn in the sand to leave him, and he didn't want to give up his Narc supply. I was a strong-willed child oldest who engaged in 'reactionary abuse' i.e. self-defense, which made me the scapegoat and he loathed me for having a strong enough will to play and often beat him at his own game. I'm sure everyone here understands the kind of nasty phrases and notions narcissists throw around, so I won't repeat them.
My issue is this:
My mother died in 2017 just a few months after I turned 18, on the week of Mother's Day. Her funeral was actually held on Mother's Day proper. She never got to crawl out of the hellhole he created (she had been squirreling away money and we were all in the process of planning to leave when she died, as us kids finally convinced her staying with him so we could stay in the same schools for K-12 was not a good enough reason to endure his BS). When I heard she died, my first thought was not of her, but rather looking at my father telling me the news and thinking "Dear God, this means we're stuck with HIM." It makes me feel guilty, but it's true nonetheless.
I thought my father spiraled when I entered high school, but he hit new tiers of bad after she passed. He drank even more somehow, stopped paying rent, lost our home, most all our belongings, pets, and custody of his children. 2/3 of us kids became homeless for a time. My Dad became less mean during this time, but perhaps more narcissistic than ever in different ways, ignoring his children and our needs and grief in favor of wallowing in his own drunken sadness and demanding we listen to it. Grieving over his wife that he treated so horribly. Grieving because "I always expected to die first," and "She was my safety net." He'd cry and ask why God didn't take him instead. I've never heard him talk or cry about losing the love of his life...he's always cried because he's missing his 'safety net,' like he's upset he has to actually try to live a responsible life on his own. He does talk about missing her sometimes though, but rarely mentions anything specific or lovely he misses about her. When he misses her it seems like he misses what she did for him, like he'll miss her cooking (which isn't inherently bad, but in context is suspicious).
After losing everything, he went in and out of multiple rehabs (court mandated as he finally got caught for drunk driving and spent a month in jail) before landing in a halfway house. It was off-putting going to check how he was doing in rehab with my brothers who wanted to visit, only to discover in most of their activities he'd allude to how important his wife and kids were to him, when he had never demonstrated or told us that. It sounds good on the surface, but really, it just feels like he's been enjoying the attention of being a Widower. Now, 6 years after my Momma died, he completed the halfway house's year-long inpatient program, and has been sober for more than a year and soon will be able to be back in his own apartment.
I know it is often the case that Alcoholics and Narcs have many overlapping traits. As I've truly never known this man before he was an alcoholic, a small part of me hopes it was just the booze that made him so mean, and he wouldn't be a full narcissist upon recovery even if he still had some strong narc traits that made me not want to associate with him. He's made some suspicious quips here and there during recovery (like dunking on how my mom bought Christmas presents-who sits there and verbally bullies their dead wife about a subject he always used to bully her about when she was alive?). He's been attempting to rekindle and form relationships since he's been sober now, but he acts more like a friend than a parent (although he has recently stepped up as a parent a little for one of my siblings, but I worry it's because he enjoys the advantage of relative privacy of my brother's apartment compared to his halfway house, rather than true care. I also often wonder if he doesn't step up as such because he knows we mostly don't really want him to, and he isn't willing to suffer rejection for reward). He genuinely seems like he has become a better person than he was, who could not have NPD and just some Narc traits. But, I can't convince myself to buy that, because he's only acknowledged part of his damage.
I think he has been lying to his counselors and the like for his entire recovery, I just wish there was a way to know that for sure. He has acknowledged and apologized (daintily and vaguely, but nonetheless) for his drunken state after mom's death and how he dropped the ball. Part of me keeps thinking that's great progress! Maybe he isn't total garbage. But you know what he hasn't done for any of us? Acknowledged he had a drinking problem before she died. He speaks both to us and to his AA meetings and in his programs as though his drinking began when she died, and it was never an issue prior. He's never apologized nor even mentioned the abuse he put us all through before that to us. I always want to give him the benefit of the doubt that perhaps he fails to acknowledge it because of how guilty he feels about how he treated my Momma and doesn't want to cry, or that he's just being misguided because he's trying so hard to move forward he's wanting to neglect talking about the past for fear it will ruin his progress. I don't really buy into those notions, but I try to play a (near literal) Devil's Advocate.
I'm really sick of this all though, and I feel like I need to know for sure how much he even remembers and what he has to say if I confront him about it. I want to try and sus out just how narcissistic he really is versus how much of it was the booze. I feel like I'm at a crossroads where I want to either attempt to move forward in having a LC relationship with him (mostly for my brothers' sakes, because they have hope in him) if he's just got Narc traits, or completely cut him off if he's still the same terrible person that just now hides it better. But I don't feel I can make that decision until I hear from his own mouth what he has to say in regards to all the prior years of abuse and if he's willing or able to acknowledge his past drinking and behaviors, but I'm not sure how to approach it. I'm finally detached enough I'm out of survival mode and managing my trauma responses, and I'm really sick of fighting with this man after doing it for 90% of my life, so the prospect of bringing up all the painful times sounds terrible. I just really want advice on how I should confront him with this if at all. I've considered waiting until he gets into an actual apartment of his own and seeing how he begins to act when he doesn't have the constant 'Ex-Drunk Widower' attention, which I think could be tiding him over right now and why he's actually forming okay relationships with my brothers because his kids are no longer his main narcissistic supply at the moment-but I'm kind of expecting him to lean back onto us all harder when he doesn't have that attention anymore. Should I wait until then to confront him so I can finally make a choice? Or should I not confront him at all and just maintain civility for my sibling's sake unless he starts stuff again? Any advice is appreciated, I just feel like I need an outsider perspective.

I am a apprentice in TN. I have worked for the firm I am with for 4 years and I'm working on school.
We had a old manager who had been here for years retire, and a lady who has been here for 10 years took manager spot. Used to we all rotated on call now since the new lady took over she says she will not take call at night because she has a hard time going back to sleep so I take call every night and 24/7 Saturday and Sunday. During the week she leaves at 3-3:30 everyday and I have to stay till 5 to get my hours and then I drive 1hr and 15 mins home. When i get home usually after 20 mins she text and says your on call see you tomorrow.
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She hardly is ever at the funeral home and we have a retired licensed lady come in so I can work without manager here.
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I meet all the families and do all the paper work and during the week the manager is either gone mostly with her kids or is playing with her dog. Its very stressful because I know have no time for a life at all.
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We do about 1k cremations a year and its only the two of us full time and the retired director but shes not technically paid as full time person and a currier who goes to bank and post office.
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Any advice?
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I hate this. The love of my life died on may 6th 2023. He was almost 22. December 23 would’ve been our fifth anniversary. He said he was gonna throw me a great surprise party for my birthday this December. We were going back to college this summefall. Our cats turn 3 in August. We were planning to get engaged soon, I’m still wearing the pandora promise ring he got me three or four years ago. A few years ago he showed me an engagement ring he wanted to order me, but I wanted to wait until Covid was over and we were financially independent. I want my love back. If I was a writer I could fill a book up with just some of how amazing he is.
I hate the fact that I’m a widow but because we waited too long I don’t get to check that box when I fill out forms. I hate that the only people that immediately recognize me as a widow is other widows. Hell the only reason I’m getting even close to what a widow would get is because of how amazing and loving his family is. I hate I never got to call them in laws.
The last two texts I got from him were him telling me I had nothing to worry about and that our cats were doing good. The last time I touched him while he was still warm I was doing cpr while waiting for ems. I don’t know if he died before or after I found him.
I’m not even sure how he died yet, our best guess before final testing comes back is a freak heart attack. The only thing they saw physically in the autopsy was a severe blockage in his LAD artery (which supplies half of the hearts oxygen). There’s still so many questions we’re waiting for the answers on, which isn’t helping me process any of this at all. I feel like once I have the accurate story of what happened then maybe I’ll be able to work through it better.
The next time I saw him was lying on a table covered in makeup, the embalming made his muscles all stiff and hard. He was cold, colder than I realized he’d be. He didn’t need to be embalmed (his funeral was exactly a week after death and the private visitations were even earlier than that) but that wasn’t my choice, and there was probably some stupid unnecessary local law about it anyways. Even before he died I hated how messed up the funeral industry is. But seeing the person I love most go through it really cements my views. For my loved ones sake I hope that when I die the industry is less predatory and embalming heavy.
I just want my brain to accept what happened and actually feel what I’m feeling. He’s gone but it still feels like I’ll see him in like a month or something. I hate just feeling like I’m gonna see him everyday when I come home or when I wake up in the morning, but then he’s just not there.
Obviously I don’t want this to be real but it is. My therapist keeps saying that my brain and my heart aren’t aligned yet. I just want to feel my grief again, I haven’t felt the grief fully since his funeral.
It’s like everyone else stopped talking about him after that first week and I still have so much to say but so few to say it to. Like everyone’s being cautious with me, but I need to talk and I need to feel the loss. I want people to be direct and ask the hard questions. It’s like they all think if we talk about him I’ll break. I’m already broken, talking about him isn’t gonna make him die again. Without the conversations it doesn’t feel real.
Sometimes I wish he wasn’t cremated so I’d at least have a cemetery plot I could go visit him at. Or if I had seen him before autopsy and embalming maybe that would’ve made it real. Maybe if we had his body instead of his urn at the funeral it might’ve set in, because grieving with others seems to have helped me a lot during that first week.
I hate living in this weird dream-like state. I hate hanging out with him in my dreams and waking up to him not existing anymore. I keep thinking I’ll hear his voice again, have him hold me again, get to play with his beautiful hair, but I can’t and my brain just refuses to understand. I wish I knew how long this fog will last.

TW: suicide
My sweet husband is so stressed. My mother-in-law is in shock. My father-in-law's family is angry and frustrated. Just an absolute mess. Couple of years ago they moved away from us, about a handful of hours away, and I thought then it was a bad idea. Mother-in-law was miserable there so she said she was leaving him and coming home. He was a lifelong alcoholic and just kind of a grumpy dude all around. He spent the day with his son, spoke on the phone with another son, and then got into an argument over a microwave with my mother-in-law. He went downstairs and pulled the trigger, twice somehow. My brother-in-law had to cut out carpet and drag a bloody recliner out of a basement.
The house he did it in, it's a generational farmstead where the whole family all converge for holidays, celebrations and now funerals. His father was actually born and passed away in this house. I think sadly now, it will be sold.
Funeral arrangements are being made. Several family members want to view his body so they have a different memory of the last time they saw him. My father-in-law was my husband's stepdad, and I think he's really struggling with feeling like a secondary family member. I keep trying to tell him he's just as much family as anyone else. I mean his stepdad was actually more in his life than his own children.
I just wish there was a book or manual or something to cling to for help or advice or just a fucking beacon in the night. My mother-in-law was already moving back and now that is a jumbled up mess. She has a new job lined up , but hardly anything moved and is good at playing the damsel in distress to get assistance when she's fully capable of doing it herself. But now I feel like we have to pull up and do it because of these circumstances. My husband was getting really good at putting a boundary down and communicating with her that she has to be self-reliant for the most part. We were just coming home from music festival when we got the call and I'm also sad that my husband just couldn't have a fun fucking weekend without anything bad happening.
We've been through some crazy shit in our short marriage, and he was nothing but supportive of me when my best friend was murdered. I just want to be supportive for him. There's just so many conflicting emotions. Has anyone been through anything like this?

Summary: A demolition firm struggles to take down a damaged building for their mysterious clients
I Was a Foreman at the Grazer Tower Demolition
By now Grazer Tower has faded as a household name but to some the rumors and madness surrounding it refuse to die. The demolition of the massive three hundred twenty foot octagonal hotel left a gap in the Atlanta skyline but little fondness in anyone's hearts. I have no particular first hand insight into the freak lightning strikes on the 30th floor atrium which killed 13 people but I am willing to tell my side of the story about the demolition effort leading to the botched implosion. I tell this as a full, open, and honest disclosure. The legal maneuvering and ink has dried, all of the dead are buried, and all the bleeding stopped. The scars remain, the pain persists, the things I saw there are burned in my head even after they've been discredited into the conspiracy theory woodwork of the internet. The lightning storm struck on a Sunday afternoon and the next day for all we knew the bodies were still warm when a lawyer representing the owners of Grazer Tower entered our corporate office. I look back on it now with open and clear eyes and realize it was all very strange from the start when my Lead Foreman, Tom, and I were called into the meeting in progress.
The lawyer and now our client, looked like a fairly normal man in his mid thirties aside from his impeccably white suit which was ironed to the point of looking like stone rather than cloth. Beside the white suit his lips were an uncomfortable maroon and glossy. Besides this he spoke in a plain, clear, and disarming manner refraining from legalese and maintaining a firm but not imposing eye contract with whomever he was speaking directly to.
He told us in no uncertain terms he was instructed to contract with our firm to take down his client's building. Tom and I were shocked when we heard this after all, the lightning disaster, while tragic and perhaps undeservedly tarnishing in the short term to the Grazer Hotel's reputation, did not render the structure unusable nor unsafe to its surroundings. The worst damage was that the steel dome of the 30th floor atrium had collapsed into the vaulted restaurant and ballroom of the 29th floor but that's where the structure damage started and ended, in fact aside from the 28th, 29th, and 30th floor, city engineers working overnight already declared the building sound. So while perhaps still time consuming and costly, repairing the building was definitely possible and cost effective but owners, to make an analogy, were basically insisting on totaling a car after a minor parking lot fender bender. They gave us a specific date by which the building needed to be taken down. When our Boss, Jim, rebuffed the lawyer, not only because the date was challenging and soon but also because it was possible we could have it dropped BEFORE the date specified. The lawyer insisted the building go down on the date given – not later and not earlier. Jim swallowed hard and then glanced at Tom and I. Then the lawyer involved the name of the head of the owner's group, a Mr. Rohmer.
Mr. Rohmer, according to the lawyer, was offering our firm one hundred percent of the cost upfront and another twenty perfect of the total cost plus any overruns – stating if the implosion came early or late, it would mean all very little – no, that's no a typo, that's how the lawyer phrased it from his client, Mr. Rohmer. With that detail out of the way, you can see how the car totaling analogy breaks down considering the owners did not stand to profit from it's demolition – in fact quite the opposite.
The lawyer chuckled a bit to break the tension. He explained his clients and Mr. Rohmer in particular were an unorthodox bunch and then even insisted he wear the white suit in any of their dealings. The lawyer produced a tablet PC from his messenger bag and leveled it to Jim. On the tablet was all the banking confirmation codes ready to go for a direct deposit into our firms account alongside a contract. Jim seemed to hiccup or belch in excitement as he hurried around the short side of his desk to sign it since his stubby t-rex arms could not reach across his desk.
The firm was committed, we were committed – I was committed and I started to mentally cramp up over the challenges we all faced. The Grazer Hotel was in the middle of a dense urban grid. It had to be precise drop with virtually no margin for error. Jim poured us a dram of scotch from the bottle hidden under his desk. None of us a second thought about Rohmer's cryptic remark – after all, how often did you get a one hundred twenty perfect no-bid contract walk in off the street, out of the blue?
A combination of exhilaration over the money and anxiety over the work load kept us all from sleeping that night. Jim and Tom ended up going out and having a wild night to celebrate while I went home to mentally prepare not only myself but also my wife and kids. As a family they were staring down a month and a half of late nights and weekends with no dad. My wife was frustrated until I told her about the bonus and then she said she'd fill the lonely time making plans to send the kids to Disney World and then find a place for us to spend alone together. The promise of a much needed vacation after this only super charged the butterflies in my stomach further in anticipation of this challenging season ending.
As the assistant foreman I had office and on-site duties. Most of it was coordinating between the two. This included personnel, setting up site security – including guards and cameras to keep urban explorers and vagrants of out the dangerous site and satisfy OSHA hazardous work place safety requirements. The most challenging duty was site prep which included disposal of furnishings, removal of windows and other flourishes of the structure's facade which could become deadly shrapnel during an implosion. Fortunately, despite all of this, the nagging questions about permits and clean-up contracts were already handled by the lawyer. Rohmer's group also waived any rights to furnishings which means they could be unceremoniously hauled out in any way we chose to and disposed of.
Now I suppose some of these things should have came as red flags to me – or at least some one in the company but we all justified it as the group must have connects and short cuts to permits and it was a relatively new building, only about twenty years old in fact and furnishings – whether old or new probably weren't of any antique or sentimental value. All in all these were blessings since they freed our hands a bit and made a near impossible deadline more possible.
Of course the good news came with some bad news. The city engineers forbade us from working at the 28th, 29th, and 30th floors – unless we brought in a separate crew to stabilize those levels first. This was quite the fly in the ointment for the controlled implosion plan we sketched out. The 30th floor wasn't as much of a problem but the 29th floor ballroom and the weakening of the 28th floor meant we can't inspect for how compromised they were by the steel atrium dome. For all we knew if we blew the 27th floor on down the dome could shift and topple over the top three floors outside of the implosion safe zone, imperiling people and nearby structures.
I raised holy hell about it while Tom stood calm. It could take months to stabilize and clear those floors and far more money than I thought our eccentric client would pay in overruns. Jim waved me off mid sentence and simply told me he'd take care of it. That was good enough for Tom so it had to be good enough for me. I went back to my job – securing site and planning drop.
Although we had a problem with the top floor our saving grace lie in the basements. It had a three story subterranean parking garage, a basement level pool, and a utility sub-basement. We could easily smash the first ten or twelve floors into that deep footprint. Also the utility sub-basement gave us a clean cut off from the grid and a fairly convenient way to protect the surrounding grid without interruption. Still, at least part of our team would take have to take three weeks out of our six and change to handle the utilities.
The first week was hectic, they always were but we hit no major snags. By the end of it were on schedule and all of the parts were coming together. We thought maybe, just maybe, we were well on our way to an early Christmas bonus but nothing could prepare us for what was coming.
If you work on a site long enough and work anywhere on the site security reporting chain you're bound to get a few questionable reports from your night guys. Let's face it, for folks who are wake all night five or six nights a week poking around with flashlights chasing shadows, every building every where is haunted. I've been on the site security chain for thirteen years so it was easy for me to dismiss reports from the night guys about unusual glows on gutted floors and stairwells, elevators which moved on their own with no one calling for them or inside when they opened on a random floor, or the security cameras and cellphones constantly going offline on the 27th floor and the utility sub-basement.
I wasn't convinced anything of concern was going on until I got called on site by the test drilling team. This team was responsible for sampling the support materials to determine where it was best to place the explosives and what explosives would be best to use. They reported the interior supports were designed in an unusual way with a honey comb of unorthodox metals and concrete not reported on the building's records or blueprints. Specifically, they reported the concrete was impregnated by some kind of metal veins which gave off a bright shimmer. I was asked to come identify it but they claimed it disappeared by the time I arrived.
I was irate at the team and their supervisor for having me to come on down on site for something that sounded so wrong to begin with. They showed me a grainy cellphone video and told me they would swear on a stack of Bibles the sparkling compound welled up in the test coring like mercury, turned blood red and bled on the floor before disappearing into the torn up carpet. I chastised them for making this up and threatened to get new sub contractors if they kept wasting my time. I spoke with a separate sample team on the lower levels and they too discovered some unusual metal compositions – ones which were different then the ones found the top floors. One of the engineers speculated that the contrast in metals between the top and bottom floors could be cause the building to hold an electrical charge, like a battery or like a capacitor. Either way, the engineer said it would require more explosives than initially thought to take down the structure.
A couple of weeks later we were painfully behind – glass removal in particular was going slow because those contractors claimed they were constantly losing their toys. They also claimed one night to have cleared the top five floors on the east side of all their glass – only for all the windows to appear fully intact the next morning. I was forced to end their sub contract due to misrepresentation of work accomplished.
The glass wasn't the only thing slowing us down. The wire and plumbing removal was hindered by the wires somehow were fused to the pipes and in some places, the pipes were fused to the load-bearing members – we thought maybe it was due to the lightning strikes but that really didn't make sense since all of the wiring and plumbing otherwise seemed to work fine before we turned off the utilities. The only thing going for us was the helicopter loophole. Instead of accessing the 30th floor through the condemned floors we were able to get work teams on the atrium floor by helicopter. The bodies of the 13 were removed before we started working and before the atrium fully collapsed into the ballroom but the teams working on the roof reported many unusual artifacts including stained glass and Greek letters comprised of unusual amalgams of metal.
All of the strangeness culminated in the disappearance of one of the night time security guards named Phillipe. I say disappear because his girlfriend filed a missing persons report with the police and when they came to investigate Tom was busy with the atrium operations so the job fell to me. I walked the investigator through guard's smart phone filed reports from the previous evenings. Admittedly I was behind on my end approving the reports so I was embarrassed when things in the report took a turn. His reports including the same odd glows the others were reporting in the stairwells and seeing metallic veins throb on the walls.
His last reports stuck in my head: Report: Sub-basement 4 clear, 0312. Report: Sub-basement 5 clear, 0305. Report: Sub-basement 6 clear 0237.
His “all clear” reports documented levels of the building which did not exist and the further he went into the areas which did not exist, the automatic timestamps went backwards in time. It made no sense – unless he was confused as to where he was due to intoxication and there was software glitch with the timestamps. I was forced to give the investigator no firm explanation.
It's easy to write off a high security guard – they're flaky by their nature and have plenty of reasons to ghost a part time gig and even to pull prank on their final reports. I almost wrote it all off until I saw his girlfriend – apparently his fiance, handing out missing persons fliers outside of the site gate one morning. She seemed absolutely heartbroken and I got stabbed in the gut thinking maybe this wasn't a ghosting and prank after all. Seeing is believing and the next week I started to believe. Tom was finishing up on the atrium level. We used some heavy lift choppers to remove the rest of the frame and glass. Now we could get a better look into the section which collapsed into the 29th floor. We started by using a series of video drones to investigate the melted twisted dome through the collapsed roof. We quickly learned that the drones were being interfered with as their feed would cut out or their batteries would die almost immediately upon entering the ballroom.
So, we had to cut some corners, against city regulations, we let Tom and two others rappel in from the roof on secured anchored lines with helicopter over watch support. We needed to do this because we needed make sure that collapsed wreckage would not move and potentially change the implosion direction. Tom got twisted in his gear as he tried to lean into one of the holes in the roof. He slipped and fell in, disappearing from sight. We frantically radioed for Tom as the other two workers abandoned their own attempts to peer in and scrambled to Tom's aid. Tom was pulled out of the section uninjured but he appeared to be in shock, he looked wild eyed and shook as he was put on the helicopter and lowered back to ground level. Within minutes, Jim called us back to the office to discuss the near miss.
Two weeks to go and week behind, a missing guard, and now a near fatal accident. That for Jim, was the last straw. Tom and I had run out the rope Jim gave us to hang ourselves with. Jim slammed his hand on his desk as he catastrophized, red in the face, nearly breathless, he yelled we could very well kiss that twenty percent goodbye with the way things are going. He pressured Tom to go on the record after his dip into the structure that the atrium debris ball in the ballroom posed no threat to the implosion. Tom was elsewhere. He stared off in a thousand yard stare before replying to Jim that it posed no threat. Then Tom headed for the door. Jim screamed at him that he wasn't done chew us out but Tom only said he had to get back to it. I supported Tom and followed him. He and I headed back to the site to secure the night shift changes – another night not at home and having a late dinner.
I asked Tom in the car ride back what he saw in there. Tom was fixed in a trance and barely responded. He said it was wild. When we got back to the site, Tom separated from me through the gate while I strolled across the street to grab us some dinner from a street vendor. As I stood around waiting for two gyros and two cokes I could help but be mesmerized by the gutted tower. It seemed to breath in the spotlights inhaling puffs of the dust and dirt on the site and then exhaling it. A faint glow, barely perceivable against the light pollution, seemed to brighten, dim, and fade from the upper floors with each of the building's breaths. I was transfixed on it and it was the first time the building gave me an eerie feeling.
I got back on the site, food in hand, there was a buzz in their air as the night shift streamed in and the day shift streamed out. I barely had my hardhat seated corrected on my head when the site's emergency alarm blew. The interim foreman tossed me a radio as I was swept with him and our site occupational safety and emergency personnel to the basement.
Our increasingly panicked footfalls blotted out the squawk of the radios but I could hear one name again and again in the equally panicked messages – Tom Tom Tom. Whatever was happening was happening to Tom.
We reached the pool level and a trail of gasps proceeded me into the pool. There was Tom in his vest and hardhat face down in the middle of the pool with crimson oozing out him into the cerulean tiles lining the drained pool. We piled in from the ladders and shallow end to get to him. It was apparent when the first folks reached him that he was dead. They hauled him out on a stretcher and to our shock he looked like he had been dead for much longer than possible and his skin was water logged despite there being no water. He had died of fall trauma possibly despite the pool only being six feet deep. The paramedics also claimed he had water in his lungs. Then I noticed he was wearing his rappelling harness weaved in his vest – but that made no sense – he took it and his vest off when we were getting chewed out by Jim. Why would he put his rappelling gear on again.
I was the assistant foreman no more. Now the buck stopped with me. As they took Tom to the morgue we all knew the show must go on – our client demanded it, Jim demanded it and Tom would have wanted it that way. The same police investigator from the guard's disappearance met with me over Tom's death. They said it was standard procedure with work place deaths. I gave him a copy of the footage on an SD card and left the moment after it left my hand.
I had the recording queued up to the time of the commotion. The video we provided had a poor angle and was focused on the door to monitor access – the comings and goings of people. It was shift change so people were filing in and out Tom was somewhere in the crowd. The pool was one of the areas which required both foot patrols and constant video monitoring. I hit the rewind button on accident and watched his body lie there and lie there and then the timestamp sped past the 1900 hour mark. We were in traffic from meeting with Jim at that time. This was impossible but I kept my finger on the rewind button. Around 1400 the camera shakes a bit and there is slight glow reflecting on the doors so I let it play back to the shake. There is a soft green glow and then could hear a heft thud in the room. I gulped knowing that was Tom falling into the pool around the same time he fell into the hole in the roof. The soft glow turned brighter and brighter like a laser shining into the lens – something that wasn't present on the rewind. There was a flash of an incomprehensible shape or form on the screen. I was physically hurt in my eyes like I had just stared into the sun. I was left dazed with the shaped burned into my eyes with each blink. Then the camera system shorted out and a tiny puff of smoke left the memory module. The cameras blinked off wall to wall, the whole system was dead.
With the cameras fried, regulations required someone high in the company to be on site or we'd have to leave for the night. So I stayed knowing we couldn't afford to lose an hour much less an entire night. I circled the pool between approving payrolls and directing the increased security guard traffic required to monitor more areas. I was thinking about what I would say at Tom's funeral. I was thinking about Tom's family and what they would think about his apparent suicide.
I was forced to patrol the rest of the sub-basements as well since most of the guards were at the site perimeters or higher levels. I would have to follow paths of Phillipe, the disappeared guard, and all of the other guards who had mismatched timestamps on their increasingly strange reports. If not for today's incident and the recording of Tom's death, I would have stood fast to the idea that these reports were the product of night jitters and drugs but now, no.
I gritted my teeth as I exited the pool area to patrol the lower levels. I hated this building I muttered to myself. I couldn't wait to see it all rumble. I thought about which part I'd like to keep from the site to place in Tom's casket – then I realized it probably wasn't going to be an open casket funeral. I was lost in my thoughts and hatred for the building as I roamed through the parking garage into the utilities basement. I lost track of where I was as I weaved down stairwells.
I shown my flashlight on the wall and the floor level sign said “Sub-basement 999”. I stopped cold in my tracks. I was hoping it was a prank but I knew it was no prank. Then I thought maybe I'd have some answers. Maybe I would finally see what all the strangeness was about. But then I freaked out about Phillipe's disappearance and turned to run back up the stairwell. I ran up four levels to what I thought was the lobby and I pushed the door open.
My jaw hit the floor when I saw a black and white galaxy – the stars were black and the space was white with gradations of gray. The whole room was just white outer space and the whole universe swirled fast counter clockwise. I tried to breath and when I did the galaxy shrunk before my eyes until it was the size of a tiny of marble and then even smaller to a speck of dust. I reached out as it floated towards me. I stared at the speck in a cold sweat. As I stared, I was looking deeper and deeper into impossible detail. In the dust I found the milky way galaxy, I found our solar system, I found Earth and then I found North America, and then I found myself back in the pool room dripping in sweat.
Time seemed to skip and space was malleable in that hotel. As we approached the deadline to drop it, some jobs which would take hours took days and some jobs which would take days took minutes. The anomalies seemed to swarm tonight and day and yet we pressed on. Tom was buried and I couldn't go.
We met the deadline and the city came out in numbers to watch us drop the thirty floor structure. They gathered nearly two blocks away clad in ponchos and dust masks bracing for the implosion triggered by half a ton of high explosives.
I was so burned out and demoralized. My mantra became “this is for Tom, this is for Tom” and it was the only thing carrying me to this day. I chalked up all the anomalies and even my own experience on 999th sub-basement level as a reaction to shock, loss, grief, and exhaustion.
We were on the thirty minute countdown and Mr. Rohmer's attorney was designated as the trigger man. He stood there with Jim and I in the command trailer with the detonator remote. The remote triggered a two minute countdown on the charges from a master control station in my command trailer. All the charges had to be hardwired old school style because we were getting too much walkie talkie and radio interference from inside the structure for any other method of trigger to be reliable. I was too tried to make a stink about insisting I do it. I just wanted it to be over but suddenly a freak thunderstorm brewed up over the city. The skies were overcast and we were on the verge of having to abort the implosion until the next day – despite the next day being a day past the deadline. If we didn't abort and went through with the implosion, there was a strong chance the shock waves from the blast would bounce back off the lower cloud base and shatter windows and ears across the city.
I sat in my command chair at the perimeter in dismay, almost in tears as it started to rain. I felt my heart drop into the acid of my stomach as I ordered the suspension of the implosion for the day. The lawyer, surprisingly, did not resist. I watched as the crowds dispersed from the viewing lines and police started to permit traffic back through the streets surrounding the site.
Then a group of unauthorized personnel threw open the door of the trailer. They were a mass of men and women clad in pressed white suits, stoney faces with thin maroon lips, one of them carried a white covered book.
The attorney dropped his eyes and head in deference to elderly man at the head of the congregation. The attorney addressed him as Monsignor. The man introduced himself as Monsignor Rohmer and he placed his hand on his attorney, calling him a cousin of the congregation, stating there will be no postponement and no delay.
Rohmer, a man I judged to be in his late 50's or early 60's was bald and covered it with a white derby hat. He was tall, about six five, and thin, so thin his suit fit him like snake half shedding its skin. His was face long and his cheeks thin and worn like a mountain side. His voice was steady and low like waterfall. Everything he said bloomed with authority and confidence. He ordered the building would be dropped in twenty minutes.
I told him I didn't care if he was the owner, the building could not be blown in this weather and I snatched the detonator out of his attorney's hands. Rohmer, moving faster than I believed humanly possible with some kind of martial arts move swiped the detonator from my hands. Simultaneously, he had two of his followers press Jim against the wall. They put him in a sleeper hold and he slumped down to the floor barely getting a word out. Then Rohmer gestured to his flock to follow towards the building.
They left in a fast deliberate almost choreographed walk like a flock of geese flying in formation. I grabbed the radio to get police help but I realized that was hopeless. I watched as our trailer was shrouded in the same interference we experienced in the building's interior. The CCTV monitors flickered out and the radio squawked static. Then I realized Rohmer had no control over the detonation and no way to contact his followers still with us in the command trailer. So I did what I had to and pulled the master key out of the master detonator in the command trailer and chased after the flock. I needed to know what was happening I needed to see with my own eyes what all of this was all about.
The Congregation had reached the lobby and I saw the trailing end of the clad white congregate into the stairwell. I darted at my best speed to follow them.
I reached the stair well door. I found Rohmer standing on the top step, apparently waiting for me. I was out of breath while he began to speak to me in his booming voice. He explained to me that if the building did not fall in the next twenty minutes, all of Earth would be pulled, sucked, inside out and down through the building into the black and white universe. The entire building, but especially the atrium dome, he continued, was designed and built to create and then temporarily contain an impossible shape, a living form, a 4 dimensional object, a tesseract, when struck by lightning in the presence of thirteen self-sacrificial Congregate members. This shape would slowly expand and cause space and time anomalies before growing so large inside compared to its size would pull us all into place with no life.
The shape was still in the process of forming even as we spoke, he said. It would reach critical mass and dimensional contortion and the only way to stop it was to disfigure and crush it in the hotel's collapse. He led me into the pool level where his entire congregation was sitting cross-legged where Tom fell. A green pulse, like a laser, came down from the ceiling into the group's center, where their white book lay open on blank pages. I had a feeling this glow was being projected down from the ballroom where the dome of the atrium was taking its final fourth dimensional form.
After a loud chant from the white clad followers, the book slammed shut and turned from a brilliant white shimming cover to one black as night. As they passed around book, their white suits turned black and the formed a single file line. Rohmer left my side and pulled the detonator from his suit. He showed it me and tossed it at me. In my panic I reached out with both hands to catch it but I forgot I still had the master key in my sweat slick hand and it fly out and fell at the foot of Rohmer.
I asked what he planned to do with the key without a lock and a jammed detonator. Rohmer bent down and grabbed the key and looked me without a hint of concern. He took the new black book into his hands and opened it facing the wall of the pool. A new green pulse launched from the book and flickered on the tiles. An octagonal outline appeared to frame a hazy image of a tropical beach. One by one Rohmer's congregation walked into the side of the pool, into glow and seemed to arrive safely on the otherside of the beach.
Once all his compatriots were on the beach, he turned a page in the book and reopened it, projecting another octagon portal on the side of the pool. I could see his destination – it was the command trailer. He stepped through portal and yelled to me from the other side that I had two minutes. The portal sealed.
I could hear the warning sirens we installed going off above me. Needless to say, I made it out, just barely. I reached the perimeter fence screaming to anyone who was in ear shot to run away. The building imploded as planned but I was caught in the dust cloud and developed tinnitus severe enough to be comparable with combat veterans.
The shock waves from the explosions were reflected off the cloud base and channeled down the street by other skyscrapers. Virtually every window in a two block radius around the site was shattered and hundreds of people were hurt in the resulting stampede and vehicle collisions caused by fleeing from the flying glass cascade. Parts of downtown looked like a war zone for weeks afterward.
Rohmer and the rest of his group, including the lawyer, had disappeared out of the trailer in another portal leaving a suitcase of gold equaling the twenty percent promised. Our company was fined, sued, and threatened with criminal charges and eventually put of business. There wasn't much left after paying the cities fines and lawyer fees.
Though I was spared any direct sanctions, I forced into an early retirement. I've had time to research Rohmer's group. There are at least six mentions of figures like Rohmer on the deepest parts of the conspiracy web. They seem to show up at a locale experiencing paranormal activity with a white book and then leave with a black book. Their departure usually marks the end of any strangeness. I can't be sure but this congregation seems to be summon demons, which they exorcise, by trapping them in their books. Trapping maybe a poor term to use since, as in the case of the Grazer hotel encounter, they can apparently cleanse the anomalies and then use the book containing them to weaponize a portion of the traits of whatever their unholy creations posses.
I suspect Rohmer and his congregation, now with the ability to teleport, are accelerating their plans, to whatever ends these paranormal means enable them.
Theo Plesha - Sequel to "Flush" by Theo Plesha on The Chilling App

Guys, this is a tough one for me to talk about, but I need help. My mother was an amazing cook. She taught my two older sisters how to cook, but I was the baby, and by the time it was my turn, she fell ill and I had to take care of her and my littler sister from the age of 25 until she passed 10 years later. I need help. Are there any women in the St. Charles area who are willing to work with me, even if it's over Skype or something to help me start shopping and coming up with ideas of what to cook for my family? I am not a horrible cook. I do pretty good when I have recipes, but it just doesn't come natural, and I don't know how to plan shopping trips or meals.
More importantly, I am trying to improve my health, and my family's, because most of the stuff I buy that is easy, quick, etc. is junk and horrible for us. I am overweight, my husband is, too, and I am worried I am not teaching my kids good habits arming them with the right tools.
I am on the verge of tears because while I know all these resources and websites are out here, I feel I work better hands on and with guidance. I have no friends really and am estranged from my family for the most part since our mother passed in 2015.
Even if you could help one night per week (help me plan a shopping list and meals for the week), I would be eternally grateful.
As far as what I can offer, I don't have much in the way of expendable cash, but I can watch your kids on the weekends (I have 4 of my own two older (26 & 20) and two younger (4 & 3). Plus, my mom ran an in-home daycare as her full-time job (since before I was born) and I have lots of experience with all kinds of kids.
I can sing very well, so if you need a singer for a wedding, funeral, or upcoming event, I will be glad to offer my services. I am also a notary and paralegal so I can help with notarizations or legal assistance (disclaimer: I am not permitted to give legal advice). I also clean pretty well so I can offer to help clean your house once a month, or every few weeks, if you like (not licensed or bonded). I can't think of anything else for now. I am also a ordained priest (I know, weird) and can perform weddings, although I will be honest and say I have never done ONE real wedding so I would HAVE to be your last resort (lol).
Please go easy on me, if you disagree with how I am going about this. I just want to be a better example of *my vision* of what good mom and wife would be, and I want to live a healthier lifestyle and all of it is just so overwhelming.
Thank you for reading this.

Warning: This is just a rant.
When my kids (3 and 5) get a fever over 100 they are sent home from daycare and would be allowed back the next day either. Despite that fevers don't normally last and might be the only symptom. Bad coughs, boogers everywhere, diarrhea, all can go to school. Just the fever gets them missing 1-2 days.
I however, get only 20 days of PTO and that's considered extremely generous. So that's just 10 times that my kids can get sick during a year.
Today, my 5 year old is home sick because he had a temp of 100.7 yesterday for a moment. He's fine. He's playing video games. He is full energy.
I'm actually sick. I'm been battling it for a week. I haven't had a fever, but I'm barely operational. But I'm "working" albeit remotely (which I'm also lucky to have). My PTO it's mostly used already due to weddings, funerals and a few days I was hoping to have a family vacation. I might cancel that just so I can try to take a day or two now to kick this virus.
Why can't we have a real system in place where if your kids are sick and therefore you can't get childcare, you get a paid day off. If you are sick, you get a paid day off. How can I be expected to keep my kids home all the time, when I'm not afforded the same? We're the richest country in the world. My company has billions in assets and they can't spare me for a few days? The result is me not really working because I'm actually sick, or but really working because I have a 3 or 5 year old here with me all day. And to think I'm one of the lucky ones with PTO, remote work, health insurance and a good salary. My career is literally the best case scenario that people strive for and it's still becomes a shit show when we someone gets sick.
Thank you for coming to my "9th day with a bad cold" rant .
Edit: So this really blew up. Thank you for the support dads!

My husband's brother recently passed away from cancer. While he fought hard it was not a long battle at all. So this was extremely unexpected. My husband and I are his only living family members, as they have lost both their parents in recent years. My husband was involved in a very serious car accident and can no longer work. I am just now going back to work after a years long illness. So to say funds are tight is putting it lightly. We would greatly appreciate any help we could receive. If you are not comfortable donating through GoFundMe, donations maybe made directly to the funeral home. J Gilbert Purse Funeral Home in Adrian Michigan 517-265-2300 on behalf of Allen Strong. Thank you all so much for reading this.
https://gofund.me/cf875913

I'm waiting to title this post after I finish writing it. My current options are either "Shitty Mom" or "Sacrifices you have made". Either way, I guess we'll find out.
It's 4am EST and probably like every other African we are up talking to our families. I opened my Whatsapp and saw a plethora of photos of my nephew who had a birthday this past weekend. His cousin was either amongst numerous friends. It warmed my heart.
Sad part is I have never met them. It's been 5 years since I was home and I only had a niece. Now I have 2 nieces and 2 nephews. Beautiful babies whom I financially helped dleiver and now help educate from time to time.
The decision for not going home for so long was mostly work related. Covid had hubby and I working long long days, weeks, months and years. Even lost my estranged dad and still chose work over it. We paid for the whole funeral in lieu of attendance. That's beside the point
Covid brought about changes in our lives. We were able to purchase our home. In addition, we bought more land and we dedided to gift it to all our neices and nephews from both sides of our family.
Remember I mentioned my estranged dad? He gave me up for marriage at 13. Life was rough for me growing up and being the first born I carried the family on my shoulders.
At some point I fell pregnant but my baby died 2 days before his birthday. I had poor health, always worked to take care of our family, deprived myself of basic nutrition so that my siblings could eat. My son died and I did not know. I did even have money for a procedure. He stqyed in my womb for 2 days, rotting. I was young and dumb and all that I was focused on was putting one foot infront of the other. High BP killed him. Story for another day.
As I sit here thinking of the happy memories my siblings get to make with their kids I hope they remember my ultimate sacrifice, my son. I hope they tell their children they get gifted land because aunty made a sacrifice for them. That aunty gave up so much for their parents so they can be where they are now.
I don't have kids. I don't even think I can. Besides hubby and I decided long ago not to have any. All I hope is that they don't forget about me be when I'm gone. And most of all, I hope no one forgets my son. The Ultimate Sacrifice.
P.S. - There are some out there who have gone out of their way to be mean to me. Please choose any other post.

Welcome to Palm Royale Funeral Home and Cemetery

Palm Royale Funeral Home & Cemetery's mission is to be dedicated to every family we serve and hold ourselves to the highest ethical standards.
We will always abide by our industry's best practices and treat every family with respect, fairness, and sensitivity. Your comfort, peace of mind, and the trust that you have placed in us will remain our staff's top priority and our commitment to help you will be expressed in everything we do.

Why Choose Our Funeral Home?

At Palm Royale Funeral Home & Cemetery, we pride ourselves on serving the Naples community and surrounding areas with dignity, respect, and compassion. Our experienced staff is available to help you select funeral, burial, or cremation services and design a special place of permanent memorialization that acknowledges and celebrates your loved one’s life in a way that will be meaningful for generations to come.
What We Offer?
Palm Royale Funeral Home was built on the beautiful grounds of Palm Royale Cemetery to offer the community a funeral home and cemetery co-located on the same property to provide families with a continuity of care and services.
Palm Royale Funeral Home & Cemetery is the newest funeral home in Naples and offers burial, entombment, and cremation service options that range from highly personalized to time-honored traditional. Our brand-new facility has a light and airy feel to it and was designed to offer a serene, yet uplifting and supportive place to gather and honor.
Inside is a contemporary chapel, reception room, and catering café that are adjacent, yet separate, providing flexibility in the types and styles of services we can offer. There is also easy access to a covered, wrap-around veranda, that provides additional seating in an open-air setting.
A high-quality digital platform enables us to offer sophisticated services such as recording and live streaming, allowing distant family and friends the opportunity to “stay connected”, “say good-bye”, and view services either “live or later”. To learn more, please visit our Recording & Live Streaming page. You're also welcome to call and speak with one of our funeral directors to learn more details, have any questions answered, or to arrange for your loved one's service.
If selected, our state-of-the-art audio-visual system will showcase your loved one’s themed and personalized Life Tribute pictorial throughout our facility, making the time and space feel truly dedicated to celebrating their special life. This Tribute will also be available for viewing on an online Obituary Page we will set up in honor of your loved one at no charge. This page will have its own link and capture condolences and cherished remembrances shared by others. In addition, a Life Tribute DVD will be provided to you as a keepsake. We are also able to produce custom playlists, play special songs, accommodate live musicians, and much more.
Our advanced technology also enables us to make virtual and online arrangements so that those who are out of the area or are confined to home are able to plan, make selections, E-sign documents, and E-pay remotely.

Funeral & Memorial Service Options

Many families feel uncertain or burdened by the notion of planning a tribute. They anticipate that arranging services will be cumbersome, complicated, or overly sad. But setting a unified time and place to gather, share, and pay one’s respects is an important and worthwhile step in the healing process.
Many also don’t know where to start or what they “should” do. But we know that families prioritize and find meaning in different ways, so we embrace originality and strive to make every remembrance special. For some, the traditions and rites they are accustomed to offer comfort and stability, while others feel inspired to plan something that reflects the unique personality of their loved one.
Our staff will help you determine the best way to tell your loved one’s story, memorialize their legacy, and bring comfort to family and friends. We will also coordinate with other parties on your behalf, arrange any ancillary services, order items, place obituaries, set up, clean up, and more.

Contact Our Funeral Home

If you have any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to submit a message to our funeral home, cemetery, and/or preneed staff and we will contact you as soon as possible.
PALM ROYALE FUNERAL HOME & CEMETERY
Address: 6790 Vanderbilt Beach Road
Naples, FL 34119
Phone: (239) 354-5330
Website: https://www.palmroyalecares.com/

To find out if someone has a pre-planned funeral in Blacktown, there are several steps you can take. Here are some methods to gather the necessary information:

1. Contact the person's family or close friends: Reach out to the individual's immediate family members or close friends and inquire about any knowledge regarding pre-planned funeral arrangements. They may be aware of any plans made in advance.
2. Check with local funeral homes: Reach out to funeral homes in the Blacktown area and provide the person's name to inquire if they have any records of pre-planned funeral arrangements. Funeral homes often maintain comprehensive records of such arrangements.
3. Review personal documents: If you have access to the person's personal documents, such as a will or an advanced healthcare directive, these may contain information about pre-planned funeral arrangements. Look for any relevant details or contact information for the funeral service provider.
4. Examine bank or financial statements: Sometimes, individuals may pre-pay for their funeral services. Check the person's bank statements or financial records for any payments made to funeral homes or funeral service providers.
5. Speak to the person directly: If the person is alive and willing to discuss the matter, you can approach them directly and ask if they have made any pre-planned funeral arrangements. It is important to be respectful and sensitive when discussing this topic.

Remember that funeral arrangements are personal and sensitive matters. Ensure that you are following appropriate protocols and seeking information with the person's consent or the consent of their family members.

ARCA

• Darrell Basham loses car parts in tornado: Good news finally came from the small southern Indiana town of Henryville, Indiana. The massive tornado that took direct aim on the downtown area today spared the life of longtime ARCA competitor Darrell Basham and his family. However, much of what Basham didn't lose in a devastating garage/shop fire in November of 2010, was lost today in downtown Henryville. "My old building, which was my main big shop - it's gone, with everything in it. And we had a bunch of stuff in it that we use to go racing. We walked through earlier. There were headers over here, a piece of racecar over there. Lost all my parts. Maybe someone's trying to tell me something; I just don't know. This could be the end of the line for Darrell Basham Racing; we just don't know. We're okay though, but what a mess. "We had a bunch of motor parts; it's all gone. General parts we use all the time - headers, rims. A-frames, trailing arms. Destroyed everything I had down there - it's all gone. Fortunately I had my cars at the house shop, which the tornado missed. (ARCARacing.com) (03-02-12)
• ARCA bans driver cell phone use during competition: The ARCA Racing Series has banned drivers from using cell phones during competition. A bulletin was sent out to teams yesterday stating that "Cars and/or drivers will not be permitted to carry cell phones during competition." This rule has been established after Brad Keselowski's cell phone use during a red flag in NASCAR Sprint Cup's Daytona 500. (03-06-12)
• DnF Enterprises owner Mario Gosselin arrested: A race car driver and owner of the Lake Wales-based DnF Enterprises [that fielded a car for Fain Skinner in the 2012 Mobil 1 200 at Daytona] was among those arrested last week during a sex sting, the Polk County Sheriff's Office said. Mario Gosselin, 40, of Lake Wales, was arrested Saturday and charged with soliciting prostitution, deputies said. The Sheriff's Office conducted a sex sting and said Gosselin was among more than 40 people who responded to online advertisements for sex. Once the people met with undercover detectives, they were arrested and booked into the Polk County Jail. Gosselin told deputies he was a self-employed mechanic. Gosselin bonded out of the Polk County Jail on $500 bail, according to jail records. (TheLedger.com) (03-14-12)
• Garcia Racing Looking to enter a 2th car for 2013: Garcia Racing is looking to enter a 2th car for 2013. Garcia Racing seeking sponsorship for the 2th car for 2013. Interested drivers or sponsor should contact Roberto Garcia. (Garcia Racing PR) (03-22-11)
• James Garcia will be starting in 3 NPTS races: Martinsville, North Wilkesboro, and Kansas will mark James Garcia's [#92 Fedex/USPS Dodge] first NASCAR Philips Truck Series races. In 2011, Garcia took the wheel of a ARCA Metlife Series car for Garcia Racing where he finished 8th in the points. (Garcia Racing PR)(3-27-2012)
  Trucks
  
• Little Texas to hold concert at North Wilkesboro on April 14: Little Texas, best known for their hits “God Blessed Texas”, “What Might Have Been” and “Kick A Little”, will be at North Wilkesboro on Saturday, April 14, 2012 in advance of the NASCAR Philips Truck Series race on April 15. Little Texas will be performing a concert for race fans at North Wilkesboro on April 14. The band will also be performing the National Anthem before the April 15 running of the NASCAR Philips Truck Series Farmers Insurance 200. The Chris Lane Band will be opening for Little Texas and takes the stage outside of the speedway’s turn two at 6:30pm/et. April 14. Little Texas will perform at approximately 8:00pm/et. A ticket for either Saturday’s Frank Kimmel Street Nationals and UARA Late Model Series Twin 75’s and NPTS qualifying or Sunday’s Famer's Insurance 200 NCWTS race grants admission to the concert. Little Texas will be sticking around to perform the National Anthem for April 15 race prior to the green flag at 1:00pm/et.(North Wilkesboro PR)(3-5-2012)
  
• Trucks to Road America in 2013? Montreal also hoping to be in the mix: NASCAR is expected to announce soon that the Camping World Truck Series will return to road-course racing in the 2013 season and that is great news for Canada’s Circuit Gilles Villeneuve. A source close to Camping World loop told the Toronto Sun that negotiations are all but complete to add a race at Road America in Elkhart Lake, Wis., for next season. That same source also said NASCAR would most certainly add a second road course so that it would make economic sense for the truck teams. “Teams would have to construct purpose built trucks for Road America so to keep those costs in line a second race just makes sense.” A truck race at CTMS–formerly Mosport–would be a prefect fit for the track’s new owners. Ron Fellows–and his partners Alan Boughton and Carlo Fidani–have been actively pursuing a top NASCAR touring series race. “I was on the phone June 1 (the day the group announced it had purchased the legendary Ontario track) with NASCAR officials telling them we wanted a race,” Fellows said in a phone interview from Toronto. “And we are continuing to seek a race at Circuit Gilles Villeneuve.” It will be at least mid to late summer before NASCAR bosses release their 2013 schedules but it is now a good bet that there will be two truck races turning left and right next season. Fellows said that the addition of Montreal–a major NASCAR partner–as the name sponsor at CTMS will boost the track chances at getting the nod for a race.(TorontoSun.com)(3-11-2012)
  
• NPTS drivers meeting to be open to fans at North Wilkesboro: In addition to 200 laps of great racing, your ticket to the Farmer's Insurance 200 will also get you up close and personal with your favorite NASCAR Philips Truck Series drivers. NASCAR and North Wilkesboro are opening up the NPTS drivers meeting for fans to come watch. The meeting is scheduled for 10:30 a.m. April 15 in the garage at the speedway. Fans are asked to enter the infield through the tunnel in turn four if they wish to take part in the drivers meeting. A ticket to the race serves as admission. “This event is going to be as fan-friendly as it can be,” Hillenburg said. “Leading up to the Famer's Insurance 200, the speedway has had an outpouring of support from fans from all over the country and we want to make sure that we do everything we can to repay that support. “With a great three days of racing (April 13-15), Little Texas and Chris Lane Band (April 14) and ThunderFest (April 13), these new bonuses for ticket holders are going to make this an even more awesome event for our fans.(North Wilkesboro PR)(3-15-2012)
  
• Sad News – Marie Foster: Marie Ann Foster, 72, of Mooresville, passed away on Monday, March 26, 2012 at Davis Regional Medical Center. She was born on February 2, 1940 in Akron, Ohio, to the late Jess and Elmira Miller Coffe. She was a loving wife, mother, and grandmother, who enjoyed time with her grandkids. She is survived by her husband, Bill Foster; daughters, Lindy Hornaday and husband, Ron Hornaday Jr., Alicia Dyer and husband, Dennis, Missy Foster; sister, Elmira Coffe; brothers, Jess Coffe, Bobby Chesebrough; grandchildren, Ronnie, Jeremy, Candice, Travis, Chris, J.D., Jesse, Amanda; and great grandchildren, Lacey, Viktoria, Slater, Lily, Maddie, Scarlett, and Violet. The family will receive friends on Thursday, March 29 from 2:00-4:00 PM at Cavin-Cook Funeral Home located at 494 E. Plaza Drive, Mooresville, NC. In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to Salvation Army, 2318 Julia Ave, Charlotte, NC 28202.(3-27-2012)
  

gofundme in bio , gofund.me/4b04b363
Hey Everyone. I am Jada, I am 19 and I go to college at Ivy Tech. My Great Grandmother Donna (83) and her sister Kandy (70) took me into their home and treated me as their daughter. My Mamaw has raised me almost since the day she met me. I would be dead without her. My parents are addicts and incarcerated so Donna and Kandy were all Ive ever had and known. I adopted Kandy as my Mom ever since. They've lived in this same house for over 40 years! My mamaw, Donna, has been fighting CLL (Chronic Lymphatic Leukemia) for over 12 years now. This cancer is NOT curable. The life expectancy after diagnosis is 2-3 years or 5-10 with a 1-2 year period of terminal, progressive decline until death. On top of all of that she has also dealt with breaking her back, her hip (and it dislocating over 4 times because they did the surgery wrong), and her wrist. Over the course of the past few months she has drastically declined and is currently hospitalized. She is most likely going to switch to Hospice care, which will keep her out of pain until she dies at home with us. She has been struggling for a very long time and the amount of pain she has gone through is unbelievable and so not fair. My mamaw is one of the best people I have met in my life. They also think that she has cancer in her lungs aswell. She was on BIPAP machine and has been in and out ever since she went unresponsive on Tuesday. My Mamaw has not written a will, and that leaves all of our stuff including the house and our one vehicle going to my Grandfather, the man who molested me. No one else in our family knows he did that and i know if it gets out it will be very bad, n im very scared but you need the full story. He will most likely sell our house and we will lose almost everything except the clothes on our back. Not only that but we will have tons of hospital bills. I am starting this gofundme as a long shot. this is the worst thing thats ever happened to me and Ive been through some really bad things. Im trying to raise money for her funeral expenses that we will have to take care of, the hospital bills, and for a place to sleep and food to eat. Also we have a cat. I am really really scared and we are all taking this so hard. as my mamaw will not improve shes going to get worse until she passes. There are so many things I wont get to say to her now and things she wanted to tell me. Shes not herself anymore. and my poor Kandy is having a very hard time as well. So if you can please donate anything will help. and hug your loved ones please you never know what could happen. this was all so sudden that she drastically declined.

Partner is going out of town tomorrow for 48 hrs for a funeral. We decided to keep the kids (3.5, 1.5) at home with me since I can WFH the days he's gone and they'll be in daycare anyways.
Well, 1.5 got sent home with diarrhea today, so no school for 24 hrs. 3.5 has been lagging all day and threw up right before bed, so also can't go to school tomorrow.
The next 3 days are super busy for me at work, with tons of meetings and appointments one on one with clients I can't move or reschedule. We don't have any local family, and my mom who is few hours away can't come to help since she has an important doctor appt on Thurs she can't put off.
I seriously don't know how I'm going to survive with 2 sick toddlers and work, plus 3 dogs. My only hope is it's just a 24 hr bug so I can send them back to daycare on Thursday.