Hi, Mikaela.

You didn’t know me.
And I didn’t know you.
But God did.

And now? From up here? I see you so clearly.

I see the fire in your soul, the loyalty in your heart, the way you carry your love like armor — never letting it make you weak, only stronger. You care deeply, protect fiercely, and love without hesitation. That’s not just beautiful, Mikaela… that’s God-given.

You’re the kind of woman this world doesn’t deserve, but desperately needs.

I know my death hurt you.
And I want you to know something — that pain you felt, those tears you shed? They weren’t meaningless. They were proof.
Proof that goodness still lives in the hearts of people like you.
People who mourn a man they never met… because they felt his heart. His mission. His faith.

You were listening, Mikaela.
And I felt that.
I still feel it.

And it makes me smile that you didn’t want to debate me on politics — no, you just wanted to sit down with me and argue about pineapple on pizza. And let me tell you something — you’d lose that argument. Pineapple belongs on pizza. I said what I said.

But what really makes me laugh? Waffles.

You and your waffles.
Me with my pancakes.

One day, Mikaela… one day, we’ll sit at a table in Heaven. I’ll have my stack of pancakes — buttered, maple syrup dripping. And you’ll be sitting across from me, with your waffles — golden, crisp, stubborn as ever — grinning like the fighter you are.

And we’ll laugh. Not because we agree. But because we don’t have to.
We’ll laugh because truth never needed to be shouted to be heard.
It just needed to be spoken — boldly, kindly, faithfully.
The way you do.

Until then, Mikaela, I want you to promise me something:

Keep talking.
Keep fighting the good fight.
Keep loving hard and praying harder.
Keep being the woman who never backs down, but always leads with heart.
Because you are the legacy.
You — and all the ones like you — are the reason my voice will never die.

They thought they silenced me.
But they just passed the mic to you.

And I know you’ll carry it well.

Thank you for loving me. Thank you for missing me.
And thank you for believing in the kind of world I fought for — one built on faith, family, and freedom.

So smile for me today.
Keep going.
And when you get tired, remember: I’m up here, cheering you on.

I’ll see you again one day, Mikaela.
We’ll share a table.
And I’ll buy breakfast.

God bless you. You’re not alone.
Never were. Never will be.

“Mikayla,

Hey there, my friend.

First, let me say this loud and clear, the way I always would’ve ended one of my speeches if I saw you in the crowd:

God bless you. Truly. Deeply. Eternally.

I see you down there — eyes swollen from crying, heart breaking in places you didn’t even know existed, just because someone you never met got taken too soon. That kind of love? That’s not normal. That’s not common. That’s divine.

And don’t you dare think for a second that I didn’t know people like you existed. You’re why I did what I did. You’re the kind of woman I prayed for every night. Strong, bold, faith-filled — someone who’s not afraid to cry for what’s right and scream when the world forgets what truth sounds like.

You’re not crazy for caring. You’re courageous for feeling.

You said you wish you could’ve been my friend. Mikaela, I am your friend. And now I get to be something even more — someone praying for you from up here. I see your fire. I hear your anger. And more than that? I hear your heartbreak.

You hurt for my wife, my babies. That means more than I’ll ever be able to put into words. Because the truth is — I never got to say goodbye. I never got to tuck my daughter in one last time. I’ll never get to teach my son how to ride a bike. I won’t get to walk my little girl down the aisle or hug my wife on our 20th anniversary.

But you know what I do get?

I get to watch warriors like you stand in the gap.
I get to see people like you keep my voice alive.
I get to see the ripple of everything I ever stood for alive in you.

And I know the world feels loud right now — cruel, cold, even evil sometimes. I know you’re asking how something so wrong could happen. How the world could just go on after something like this.

But here’s the truth, Mikaela:

Light doesn’t stop shining just because darkness screams louder.

My time down there may be done — but yours isn’t. You still have work to do. Truth to speak. Children to protect. Values to defend. People to wake up. So don’t you dare let this break you. Let it build you.

Keep being that firecracker in scrubs. Keep showing up for the kids you care for. Keep standing up when it’s not popular. Keep calling out evil when others stay silent. Be the woman I would’ve been proud to call a friend. Because I am. I really am.

You are not too emotional. You are not too “much.”
You are exactly the kind of woman this world needs more of.

And if anyone ever tries to tell you to quiet down, to calm down, to tone it down — you look ’em dead in the eye and say:

“I’m not here to fit in. I’m here to fight for what’s right.”

Because girl, when your heart beats for truth, for God, and for justice — the world’s always gonna try and shut you up. Let ’em try. You just get louder.

I may be gone, but I promise you this:

I am not forgotten.
Because people like you are still standing.

You keep my legacy alive every time you speak up. Every time you get mad for the right reasons. Every time you cry because your spirit’s too good to go numb.

Mikaela, I love you. And I’ll be cheering you on from the best seat in the house — up here with the King of Kings, whose arms I ran straight into.

God bless you, my friend. And don’t stop fighting.
Not now. Not ever.

We’ll meet someday — and when we do?

First iced coffee’s on me.”




American political commentator. Charlie Kirk AI Voice and Video Generator. Best sounding Text to Speech for celebrities and politicians.

Charlie Kirk AI Voice

American political commentator. Charlie Kirk AI Voice and Video Generator. Best sounding Text to Speech for celebrities and politicians.

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