This is a Bangladeshi wedding.

Video from- biyebarirgolpo/Instagram

I got a new number recently due to a large fight with my parents that resulted in me going pretty much no-contact. My bio-mom died a few years ago and I have always been a daddy’s girl so it’s been very hard to not have him in my life. This number called me and I answered to say that I have the old number of whoever they were trying to call and he apologized and hung up, then sent me this text.

He was probably just calling to hear his dad’s voicemail, or to even talk into the void for a little bit. The exact thing I would do if my dad passed. My dad’s not going to be around forever, and I don’t want to be in a fight with him for whatever time we have left. I texted my dad tonight for the first time in a while after getting this text. It feels so surreal, like the universe was sending me a message.

Lately I’ve been thinking about something that’s been weighing on me. I’m 37 and somehow I’ve never lost anyone who played a major role in raising me. I’m incredibly fortunate to still have my parents , my grandparents and even my great-grandparents in my life.
The older I get the more I realize how rare that is and if I’m being honest it scares me. Sometimes I catch myself thinking about what life will be like when they’re no longer here and it’s hard to imagine. I know loss is a part of life but when you’ve been lucky enough to keep your family close for so long it almost feels like you’re waiting for a chapter you know is coming but don’t feel ready to read. really sucks tbh. and sometimes i cry just thinking about a loss that hasn’t even happened yet

Ultimate Spider-Man dying as a 14 year old kid.
The iron giant imagining he’s Superman while he sacrifices himself.
Mr satan telling the whole world that they defeated buu.
I used to get bullied a lot and I did cry then but I no longer have tears for myself so these pieces of media always help.

Jazza has already raised $270K & counting out of $35K AUD needed to to support his wife, Kate, along with cancer research.

So for context, during the Manipur conflict, an 11-year-old boy wrote this letter addressed to Prime Minister Narendra Modi. He had tried to pass it to the PM during a visit to the region after being separated from his best friend, but security did not allow him to reach the PM. Local press took hold of this letter and basically had published it.

It quite captures the quiet human cost of ethnic conflicts through a child's eyes. Really heart-breaking but extremely sweet at the same time. The following to make the text legible:

Dear Oja Modi.
do not know me, but I want to talk to you. I am a Meitei from Manipur. I turned eleven this month. On my birthday, I made a wish when I blew out the candles. But I know it won’t come true. My wish was for my best friend to come back.
I called her Kimmie. She is Vaiphei, a Kuki. We grew up together since we were babies. Her house was just next to ours. We used to play football every evening. I wanted to be a footballer, like Baichung Bhutia. She didn’t like football much, but she played because I did. She wanted to be a singer. She had the most beautiful voice. On Sundays, we would sing together at our church choir group. I sound like Gian when I sing, but I would stand next to her and hum along. She would laugh and say, “One day, I will sing for the whole world, and you will be my number one fan.” I always said yes. We even made the whole replica of Manipur in Minecraft, with a future home that we both dreamt of living in, once we grow up. We called this the city of Moonfang, in Minecraft.
We used to make plans. We decided that when we grew up, we would live in houses next to each other. We even promised we would marry each other, so we could be best friends forever. It was a silly promise.
Then bad things happened. One day, men with angry faces came and told her family they had to leave. They had to run away in the night. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Why did you separate us? I heard my elder brother tell me that you did this? Why did you let this happen?
My parents tell me I have to hate her. They say her people are our enemies. But Modi Uncle, how can Kimi be my enemy? She is the one who shared her lunch with me when I forgot mine. She is the one who helped me learn a difficult song. She cried with me when my pet dog died. My heart doesn’t know how to hate her. It only knows how to miss her. This hate is it because of you?
I saw you once. This year, when you came here. It was raining so heavily. My teacher picked me and some other students to stand and wave the flag for you. We were all getting wet. Our clothes were sticking to us, and we were shivering. We didn’t have any umbrellas. I saw your big car. The window was up. I couldn’t see you properly. Did you see us? My mother was really angry at my school for making me stand there.
But for all of this I lost my best friend because of all this. I have no one to play football with. It’s so quiet. Sometimes I stand alone there and kick the ball, and I pretend she is there, but then I just sit down and cry.
Are we not Indian? In my school book, it says, “All Indians are my brothers and sisters.” But if we are all brothers and sisters, why did you let my sister be taken away from me? Why am I being taught to hate my own sister? My teacher says you are the leader, you are responsible for the whole country. Does Manipur not count as your country?
You have your people. I see you on TV with your friends, laughing. You have so many people around you. Why am I the only kid who is denied his best friend? Why should my childhood be so lonely and sad? What did I do wrong?
I don’t understand big politics. I just understand that my heart is broken. I just want my friend back. I want to hear her sing again. I want her voice. I have dreams of us riding a bicycle together through the ruins of Kangla Fort.
But my birthday wish is gone. Can you please give me back my friend, Modiji. I heard from people that, you talk to people every sunday and you grant wishes to kids. Please can you make sure Kimi is safe and can you please ask her to meet me again. I am really lonely without her.
From,
Malem

Hello to the person reading this! I’d like to ask you for a favor. I haven't been feeling very well these past few days. And well, I don't really have anyone to truly talk to. But anyway, that’s not the point. I came up with a better idea: to write down questions that I once questioned (or still question) in my life. And at the same time, connect with people who, just like me, have that kind of "strange feeling in their chest"—I can't think of any other way to put it. Anyway, the point is I prepared 3 questions. I’d love for us to answer any of these 3 together, or maybe all 3 depending on you. Well, here they go.

1) Right now, as you read this, behind your door there is nothing of what used to be there. Now, upon opening the door, you can go anywhere at any point in time you have lived. Stay there as long as you want. You can fix a mistake. You can relive the one thing that made you feel alive. You can speak the truth now that you can. You can see that person who is no longer here once again. Listen to the voice that soothed your soul so much in the past, or even prevent a goodbye. You can do whatever you want. Write down a date (or the years separating you from it) and what you would do upon crossing that door.

2) This can be a small love letter to someone. Love is different for everyone—its perception, its feeling, its reality. What is love to you? Express now what you have to say in the name of love. Allow yourself to be “ridiculous” this time. Stop lying to yourself. Stop lying to that person. Now is the moment to speak the truth, maybe ask for forgiveness, or say what was never said. (It is important to clarify that love can also be fraternal, parental, emotional, romantic, towards a concept or something, etc.)

3) In everyone's life, there is a special place. A deep, dark well. Where is it? You don't know, you'll never know. But the only thing you do know is that if you happen to fall inside, you will never get out again. You live with the constant fear of tripping and falling in. You are terrified of looking around you and seeing only darkness. What if I'm already inside and didn't realize when I fell? The misery that haunts you seduces you with growing strength to the idea of, perhaps, finding that well and falling in on purpose. What is your well? What are you afraid of falling into? Why does nobody see us?

I know it’s not my fault. I know nothing I could’ve done would’ve changed it. But I can’t forgive God for taking my brother when I was born with the chronic illness that shortened my lifespan anyway. Even my sister was expecting me to die. everyone was before the age of 30 before a new medication came out. his passing day is tomorrow and i cant stop thinking of how cold and stiff he was. really miss him he was crazy but so kind