Leave the Light On
Welcome to Leave the Light On, a place to celebrate the Light and life of a loved one.
Grief is love with nowhere to go. I hope this brings a little light in Celebrating and Honoring your loved one.
You are welcome to share a beautiful memory and the name of the loved one that is no longer physically here.
Together we keep the light burning in their honor.
“ Kate’s life was a testament to transformation.. to choosing light, choosing love, choosing a path that lifted not only herself but everyone around her. When she passed, she had just celebrated ten years of sobriety, a milestone she carried with pride, humility, and a quiet strength that inspired me daily.
Loving her changed, softened, expanded, and taught me how to show up with more intention, more compassion and more truth. The way she lived, the way she fought for her healing and the way she loved with her whole heart still guides me today.
I honor her by how I move through the world.
By how I love people.
By how I choose peace.
By how I keep going.
Her light didn’t leave. It shifted into the way I speak, the way I care, the way I stand in my own growth. I celebrate her life with gratitude, knowing that the love we shared continues to shape me in ways that feel sacred and lasting.
Her journey, her courage, her joy, her sobriety, her love, all of it still lives on.
Keeping her light on is not a moment, it’s a lifestyle!”
Kate’s Light
“ Dom was someone who spent his life trying to bring light to people who were hurting. Through his work in counseling, his passion for mental health and sobriety, his faith, and simply being there for people, he wanted others to know they didn’t have to walk through their darkness alone.
But Dom’s light wasn’t just in the work he did.
It was in who he was.
It was in his laugh.
His jokes and the way he loved to tease people.
It was in music blasting through the house while he sang every word.
It was in the rocking chair, headphones on, when he was just a kid.
It was in a cup of coffee, a can of Coke, or a whole sleeve of Chips Ahoy with a glass of milk.
Most importantly, It was in the way he loved his children with everything he had.
Dom loved his 3 children, Abby, Bella, and Gaetano, fiercely. He showed up for them. He was proud of them, but even more than that, he was amazed by who they were becoming. He loved watching them grow, and I know he is so proud of the people they are today.
Dom’s legacy was that he was a light for people when they couldn’t find their own. But his most precious legacy are his children! There is no greater piece of him he could have left behind
We didn’t realize just how far his light reached until we lost him. At his viewing, person after person came to us and told us how Dom had helped them. One man told us, “If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be standing here to tell you about it.”
Four years later, we still miss him every single day. But his light didn’t leave with him.
It lives in his children.
It lives in the people he helped.
It lives in the stories we tell, the memories that make us laugh, and the lessons he left behind.
Dom spent his life helping people find their way out of the darkness.
So we will keep his light on.
For him.
For his kids.
For the people he helped.
And for anyone who needs a little light of their own. ❤️
Forever loved. Forever missed.❤️ ”
Dom’s Legacy
“ Keeping a light on in memory of my birth father Wayne, my big brother Donato and my baby sister Carissa. I wish they waited one more minute so badly and while some moments I feel exactly why it felt to much for them I keep telling myself in honor of them tell myself 3 more minutes. ”
Keep the light on
“There’s not a day that goes by that we don’t miss, love you and think about you. xoxo ”
Missing you Dad
“ My story is from years ago in 2014 on Mother’s day May 10th I said goodbye to my 17month old youngest child Eli. He was the fourth and final child into this world. Full of light, though he had a trache placed at 6months old I could read every feeling he had. However the Lord had given me the privilege to be his mother for just a little while. Eli had a bigger gift to give. He passed away and gave life to 3 others. That is what I told myself when really he saved more than the 3 complete strangers he save his 2 sisters and his brother and most of all me. You see I was married to thier father who had an AUD but didn’t recognize it. Drinking got more and more as did the abuse. When Eli passed I finally gained the strength to file for divorce. At 89 pounds I was truly walking death. Eli’s heart went to another home inside a beautiful 6month old little girl named Kaylee. Her family got more moments and time with their baby girl. All the way up to this year. September 16th Eli would have turned 14. His birthday is always hard for me but this year was the toughest. You see Kaylee passed away the night before and I learned of the news that morning. Emotions hit grief slamming into like loosing him all over again but God. Kaylee’s mom now dealing with the pain I had experienced answered my message with a simple reminder though they are no longer here it doesn’t make us less family my daughter got 12 more years because of His gift never forget that. In a moment where fresh wounds were open love was in place. Heartbreak became a reminder of gratitude and loss became grace. Together now in heaven with smiles on two beautiful faces. Thank you for being our light ”
Eli and Kaylee
“I just want to start this off by saying Buzz’s videos showed up in my FYP, exactly when I needed them. Not because I was suicidal, but I am in a dark place but beautiful place and that’s grief. I lost my 7 1/2 month old daughter Brynleigh Mae on September 3rd 2022. Recently it was her 4th Angelversary, and every year my husband and I take time off of work to celebrate B and her short but beautiful life she had. This year feels different weeks later I’m struggling more with her loss, as if it happened yesterday all over again. I’ve been having a hard time feeling connected with her, and finding signs from her in my everyday life. She had a smile that would light up a room, a contagious laugh and just a beautiful personality that I wish I would have gotten to see grow. B was my miracle baby I went through my late teens early 20s being told pregnancy wouldn’t happen for me, but B happened. I found out I was pregnant with her 5 days after my husband and I got married and I just cried, and let me share why. Rewind a few months before our wedding, I was out wedding dress shopping, I found “the one” and the consultant had me ring a bell and make a wish. The only wish I had was to be able to get pregnant and have a healthy baby. She was my wedding dress wish come true. Brynleigh’s life was short but she was so incredibly loved and she was the happiest baby I ever knew. I love and miss her more and more every single day. Signs I usually see from her are cows because she loved them, the letter B, the number 22, sunsets, stars shining bright. Just little things. We love and miss you so much Brynleigh Mae.
We will never stop celebrating who you were!”
“B”1.22.22 to 09.03.22
“When I was sixteen I lost my dad to suicide. For a long time I thought the grief of loosing him would swallow me up too. Now I am in my thirties and I can finally find peace in the memories of our summer fishing trips, shooting archery with him, and hearing him tell me everything will be alright kid. I miss him every day. This year was a big year for me. I found the strength to leave a marriage that was going to swallow my mental health whole. Very much like my dad, he fought the battle of depression alone and in silence. I never understood until this year when I myself found myself in his shoes wondering if I would be better off if I just gave up. But then I brought myself to go and sit with him at the cemetery for the first time since he had passed and actually talk to him. I cried I let the emotions out I told him how much I missed him and still needed his guidance. I told him I finally understood why he felt so hopeless and the decision he made while it hurt me more than anything I could ever imagine I finally understood the pain and torment he was feeling. Driving home that dad I listened to our favorite music we used to listen to on our road trips and I watched for the nature signs that he was with me and I finally saw them. I saw a deer and a wild turkey and a flock of geese that day driving home. My dad was an avid hunter and those were all his favorite game to hunt and I knew he was with me and I knew he heard me. Now when I hear a song that makes me think of him I tell him hi and I love him and thank him for stopping to check on me. I will always miss him. I wish we had more places like this that could have helped him in his time of distress and that maybe thing would be different. Thank you for your movement we all need someone to talk to at some point. Thank you for allowing me to share my dad’s story so that he may never be forgotten. ”
My dad is now my Guardian angel
“ Bette carried a light that reached people exactly when they needed it most, including me. She loved music, loved food, and loved people with her whole heart. She never met a stranger; she met souls. Her joy was contagious, she held space so gracefully and her love something she offered freely and generously.
I celebrate her by remembering the way she lifted others, the way she made every space feel welcoming, and the way she loved love so much that it became her signature. Her spirit taught me that connection is sacred, joy is medicine, and showing up with an open heart is its own kind of healing.
Her light still moves through us in every moment we choose warmth, kindness, and openness, the very things she embodied so effortlessly!”
Bette’s Best
“ My dad was pretty cool lol. He use to love playing guitar so when I was about 15 he bought me my first electric guitar with a strap on it that said Abbey Road (the Beetles). Now did I ever figure out how to play…no… did he think I was going to start a band… yes. Then my dad before he passed taught me how to drive. He wasn’t the best himself. So definitely wouldn’t be a good teacher. So as I took a turn I took it a bit slim and the car definitely tilted. I can remember the fear in his eyes and him holding onto the handle. I did not learn after that lol. But on a serious note my dad always lit up a room. His smile said a thousand words. He always was smiling and always happy. He was definitely a nervous guy and would pace back and forth and never able to sit. But even tho his anxiety would sometime get the best of him he always seemed to pull through for us kids. He came to every sport event, every dance recital, and school dance just to experience our life. It showed me how much he believed in us and how much he loved us. My dad will forever be one of my role models and was one of the strongest people I know. He would always tell us the song “you are my sunshine” reminded him of me and my sister. I’m starting to realize as I get older maybe my dad was the sunshine after all. ”
My Dad
“Colton Lynn Castor ♾️ 15 died by suicide 5/21/26 with still so much love and life to live. He enjoys his friends, gaming, smelling and looking nice! He wasn’t afraid to express himself through his style and as a momma that made me proud. He also enjoys music junk food and cats. He left behind a little brother and mom and dad 💔 We love and miss you so much Colton I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you in your moment of crisis💔💔💔💔 love momma”
My baby boy
“For Those Who Are Hurting Behind the Smile
I’ve lost people I love to suicide, and those losses have stayed with me. They’ve changed the way I look at the people around me, and honestly, the way I look at myself. I think sometimes we get so good at hiding what’s happening underneath that even the people closest to us don’t know we’re struggling. I know because I’ve done it too. This poem came from that place, from grief, from my own struggles, and from the ache of knowing how many people are carrying things silently. I’m not writing this as someone who has it all figured out. I’m writing it as someone who knows what it feels like to hurt, to hide, and to wonder if anyone really sees you. If you’re struggling right now, I hope something in these words reminds you that you aren’t the only one. You don’t have to have the right words. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. And you don’t have to carry everything alone. Sometimes, maybe the first step is simply letting someone see that you’re hurting. This is for anyone who needs that reminder to stop pretending, reach back and STAY! 🖤
Today I Ache
Today I ache
for the people around me
the ones carrying
the weight of the world
on their shoulders
while only showing us
the smile.
The mask.
The facade.
The practiced expression
that says, I’m fine,
when everything underneath
is falling apart.
I ache for those
hiding behind closed doors,
crying where no one can hear,
clawing at the corridors
of their own souls,
desperate to find
some way out.
Reaching for anything,
something physical,
something numbing,
anything that might quiet
the noise long enough
to make it through
another minute,
another hour,
another day.
I ache for those
watching the world
continue on around them
as if nothing has changed,
as if nothing has broken,
while they disappear
a little more each day
into the endless scroll
of faces and feeds…
unseen,
unnoticed,
almost nonexistent
unless they are posting
something beautiful,
something glamorous,
something worth a like.
My heart aches
for the ones reaching out
in the smallest ways,
a word,
a phrase,
a quiet hey,
a how are you?
that really means
please notice me.
And no one does.
No one hears it.
No one stops.
No one checks in.
We have somehow become
so disconnected
in a world
that tells us
we are more connected
than ever.
We watch.
We scroll.
We like.
We react.
And still…
we don’t look each other
in the eyes.
Loved ones are dying.
People are disappearing
behind closed doors.
Some are choosing
not to stay.
And the world
just keeps moving.
We keep moving.
Not stopping long enough
to feel.
Not slowing down enough
to notice.
Not allowing ourselves
to be seen
because somewhere along the way
we learned that pretending
was easier than being honest.
So we chase the likes
instead of the eye contact.
The comments
instead of the conversation.
The connection through a screen instead of a hand reaching
for another hand.
And then we wonder
why the world feels
so fucking disconnected.
Maybe because
we are all aching.
Some of us
are just better
at hiding it.
And I am one of them.
I am one of the people
crying behind closed doors,
putting on the smile,
wearing the mask,
building walls
while quietly breaking
behind them.
I am hurting
over so much loss.
Craving something
that feels real.
A conversation.
A touch.
A moment
where someone sees past
the surface
and stays long enough
to see what is underneath.
So if you are aching too…
if you’re carrying
more than anyone knows,
if you’re hiding
behind your smile,
if you’re reaching out
in small ways
and wondering
if anyone sees,
please know this:
If I don’t see you,
I want to.
If I don’t hear you,
I want to listen.
And if you’re not feeling seen,
please know
there is someone
who wants to see you.
Because maybe
that’s where we start,
by stopping.
By looking up.
By reaching back.
By putting down
the masks
we’ve gotten so good at wearing.
By choosing eye contact
over another scroll.
A conversation
over another reaction.
A hand to hold
over another heart left
to hurt alone.
By asking how are you?
and staying long enough
to hear the answer.
By letting ourselves
be seen
and having the courage
to truly see one another.
Maybe that’s what
needs to change.
Not the fact
that we ache.
Not the fact
that we break.
Not the fact
that sometimes
we don’t know
how to carry it all.
But the way
we’ve learned
to hide it.
Maybe healing
doesn’t begin
when the hurting stops.
Maybe it begins
when we stop pretending
we aren’t hurting.
When we stop
looking away.
When we reach
for one another.
When we remember
that beneath all the masks,
the screens,
the noise,
we are still here.
Still human.
Still aching.
Still needing
to be seen.
And maybe
that’s where
we start,
not by fixing
what is broken,
but by finally
seeing it.
Seeing each other.
Reaching back.
Staying.
Because maybe
that’s where
the healing comes from.
Written with love, By: Tonya Angell ”
“I want this post to honor my dad and show that not all relationships are perfect, and that when tragedy strikes your family, it is not your fault. You are not to blame, and you should never have to carry that guilt.
My dad helped so many people who were struggling turn their lives around, but as his little girl, I was always hoping he would be able to do the same for himself. Younger me didn’t realize just how hard he was trying or how hard he was fighting to keep going. I knew he was sick, but I thought he would eventually get better for his kids. Now that I’ve grown up, I understand that it isn’t always that simple.
For a long time, I was angry. I thought he wasn’t doing enough, or that he could have done more. I was wrong. I didn’t understand then what I understand now.
Addiction is not as simple as a choice. It can become a battle that takes over someone’s life and makes them feel like they are never enough, never worthy, or that they are beyond anyone’s efforts to help them.
But my dad was so much more than his struggles.
He was the dad who came to every softball game, every dance recital, every school function, and everything in between. He was the person who was always there when you needed him. He welcomed my friends like they were family and would take us out to lunch or dinner in my hometown. He had a way of making people feel loved and included.
And he had the corniest jokes. The kind that probably shouldn’t have been funny, but somehow always made me laugh. His laugh was contagious, and hearing him laugh could make everyone around him smile. Those are the little things I find myself holding onto now: the silly jokes, his laugh, the moments that seemed so ordinary at the time but mean everything to me now.
As his daughter, I wish I could have understood more. I wish I could have known how much he was fighting and how much pain he was carrying. I wish I could have told him that he was loved, that he mattered, and that he was more than the things he struggled with.
Now, I only have the memories of my dad, and I would give anything for just one more moment with him. One more joke. One more laugh. One more lunch. One more hug. Just one more chance to hear his voice.
If you are struggling, please reach out. If someone you love is struggling, please keep reaching out. You never know how much someone needs to know they are still loved and worth fighting for.
And if you have lost someone you love to suicide, please remember this: their struggle was not your fault. You could love them with your whole heart and still not be able to save them. That doesn’t mean you didn’t do enough. It doesn’t mean you didn’t love them enough.
I will always love my dad. I will always miss him. And I will always be grateful for the memories, the lessons, the corny jokes, and that contagious laugh that I wish I could hear just one more time.
And please, always leave that light on. 🤍 ”
My Dad 🤍
“I’m living for my brother, he lost his battle January 27, 2025, he was my best friend, he was a strong young man that had a-lot of life to give and a-lot of laughter, he was a father, a brother, a beat friend, he would give the shirt off of his back and shoes off of his feet to whoever needed the help, he helped a-lot of people, whether it was talking, listening, or just sitting there in the quiet just to be there, he was a strong young man but his demons got the best of him, now I live and thrive for him, he’ll always be with me, I feel much better knowing he’s no longer fighting and can rest easy. I’ll forever miss him, love him and honor him. ❤️ ”
My little brother
“ I love you and miss baby bro. You had the most contagious laugh that I still hear when I think of you. I know you’re not suffering anymore but miss you so much. Our world is darker down here without you in it. Enjoy your continuous round of golf with dad. Happy early birthday ”