Writing a letter to future children and generations

To My Son, and the Ones Who Come After,

You may never fully see the storms I walked through to give you clear skies.

You may never feel the weight I carried so your hands could be free.

And that’s okay — I didn’t do it to be remembered.

I did it so you could be.

But if ever you wonder where your strength comes from —

Let me tell you a little of the path that led here.

I faced the silent battles most never saw —

Fought with the shadows of doubt, fear, and unworthiness.

I unlearned the patterns passed down through generations.

I chose to break cycles rather than repeat them — even when it cost me comfort, belonging, and sometimes love.

There were moments I wanted to quit.

Times I sat on the floor in tears — questioning whether I was enough, whether any of it mattered.

But in those moments, I thought of you.

I remembered that my healing was your inheritance.

That every time I chose truth over silence, peace over ego, presence over productivity…

I was planting seeds in a garden you’d one day walk freely in.

I built this life — not to make you proud of me,

But to make sure you’d never have to heal from me.

I learned to say “I’m sorry.”

I learned to stay soft in a world that tried to harden me.

I chose love — not the easy kind, but the real kind.

The kind that sacrifices, forgives, shows up, and stays.

And now, you stand where I once stood —

But with more light, more love, more freedom than I ever had.

That was the point.

You are not here to carry my burdens.

You are here to rise on my shoulders.

So build what I couldn’t.

Dream bigger than I dared.

And remember: your story began long before you were born — in the prayers, in the pain, and in the promises I whispered into the stars.

Just promise me this:

When you look at your children — or the world you’re shaping —

Let them feel the same unconditional love I held for you.

Let them know they come from a line of courageous hearts.

And that love, not fear, is your truest legacy.

With everything I am, and all that I became for you,

— Dad

(Rory Callaghan, Son of the Earth, Breaker of Cycles, Builder of Better Worlds)

To My Daughter,

Before you were born, I dreamed of you.

I didn’t know your name. I didn’t know the shape of your eyes,

But I knew your spirit — wild, wise, radiant.

And I made a silent vow:

To become the kind of man you'd feel safe to run to,

Not someone you'd have to heal from.

I faced many things to give you this life.

I had to face myself first.

I dismantled the parts of me that the world taught were “man enough,”

And rebuilt a heart that could hold space for your softness and your strength.

I cried when no one was watching.

I forgave when I wanted to be right.

I walked away from paths that led to power without peace.

I learned to trust the feminine — in life, in others, and in myself —

So you would never feel like your power had to shrink to be loved.

You are not here to dim your light, my love.

You are not here to fit into boxes or live up to my dreams.

You are here to write your own story — wildly, honestly, fully.

But if ever you doubt your worth,

If the world tries to convince you that you are “too much” or “not enough,”

I hope you remember this:

You are the continuation of a dream I dared to believe in.

You are the reason I softened, healed, and stood taller.

You are the daughter of a man who chose love over legacy —

So you could have both.

You are allowed to take up space.

To say no. To roar. To rest.

To lead with grace and dance with fire.

You are not a reflection of my expectations —

You are a sovereign being I get the privilege of witnessing.

And if I’m ever no longer here in body,

Know that I live on in every soft whisper of the wind,

Every beat of your heart that chooses love,

And every time you remember who you are:

Worthy. Whole. Divine.

You are my greatest teacher,

My proudest gift to this world,

And the woman I will always believe in — no matter what.

With endless love and reverence,

— Dad

(Rory Callaghan, A Man Who Rose So You Could Fly Freely)

To My Grandchildren,

By the time you read this, my hands may no longer hold yours —

but my spirit walks beside you, every step you take.

You come from a long line of dreamers, healers, builders, and lovers.

But most of all, you come from love — the kind that endures storms,

rises after failure, and stands for what matters.

I didn’t live a perfect life.

But I lived fully.

I danced barefoot under the moon.

I cried in silence so others could smile.

I made mistakes, and I learned.

I let go of what was safe to build what was true.

You live in a world I helped shape —

Not alone, but with others who believed, like I did,

That wellness is a birthright,

That systems should serve people, not the other way around,

And that joy is not a luxury — it is a revolution.

To give you this life, I had to make choices.

I chose integrity when shortcuts were easier.

I chose rest when the world screamed for hustle.

I chose connection when disconnection seemed normal.

And I chose to heal the wounds I didn’t want to pass on.

That means you may never meet the version of me who was most broken.

That’s the point — I broke cycles so you wouldn’t have to.

But life won’t always be gentle.

So here’s what I want you to remember:

• Love deeply. Let it humble you and expand you.
• Question everything. Even the systems I helped build. Especially those.
• Touch the Earth often. She is your first home.
• Forgive quickly. Yourself most of all.
• Create boldly. The world needs your unique expression.
• Be kind. Not because it’s nice — because it’s powerful.
• Never forget who you are. You are enough, already. Always.

You are the prayer I whispered in the dark.

The reason I kept going when I wanted to give up.

The continuation of a legacy that values presence over possessions, purpose over profit, and people over everything.

You don’t owe the world anything —

But you owe it to yourself to live fully, love loudly, and leave it better than you found it.

And when you face your own crossroads one day,

when you wonder if you’re ready or worthy,

hear my voice in your heart, saying:

Yes, you are.

I love you endlessly,

and I believe in you beyond measure.

— Your Grandfather, Rory Callaghan

A man who walked gently, but left deep footprints of love.