George A. Cascinai – June 23, 1956 – January 5, 2022. Adopted at age 3 by Al and Frances Cascinai. Lived in Port Alexander, Alaska most of his adult life.

The Girl Left Behind – One Day She Was There, the Next She Was Gone | Series

It’s hard to comprehend how one day life can feel completely ordinary, and the next, everything is shattered. The people and places we love can be taken in an instant, while the world continues as if nothing has changed—the sun still rising and setting, unchanged.

It feels deeply unfair, even cruel. As an adult, I understand this in a way I couldn’t before. But as a child living through it, nothing about that day felt normal. We likely ate lunch after my father left. It was early afternoon, and my grandfather and the pastor remained in the house. I remember sitting at Aunt Connie’s kitchen table while Uncle Chuck silently prepared something for us, moving through the […]

Notes From George – Steadying the Heart – Series

In the past month, I’ve immersed myself in George’s letters, his recorded messages, my handwritten notes, and the final Zoom calls from the hospital. I’ve listened carefully. I’ve watched again. I’ve let the silence between his words speak.

And slowly, the wisdom he carried began to rise to the surface — lessons I now feel called to share.

We often assume calm will come when the waters around us settle. And when they don’t, we blame the waves.

George taught me something different.

He taught me that lasting peace isn’t found by controlling the tide — it’s found by steadying the heart.

He used to say the inside of a person is like […]

The Girl Left Behind – Losing My Mother as a Child: The Morning Everything Changed – Series

I woke as the sun began to rise, unsettled by the knowledge that my aunt had been heard sobbing and screaming during the night.

I wasn’t panicked—no one wakes expecting to learn that their mother has died.

I noticed my uncle Chuck quietly making phone calls. When I asked if we could call my mom that morning, a flicker of alarm crossed his face. Then the doorbell rang.

My father, our church’s youth pastor, and my Grandpa Bell entered the living room and sat down together, composed and deliberate. George and I were told to stay in the kitchen and finish our breakfast. I had no idea that the moment we were waiting for would […]

Notes From George – Resilience, and the Quiet Wisdom of Optimism – Series

George learned resilience early.

Between the ages of six and eighteen, he lived through sustained psychological and physical harm. There were times I truly feared for our lives.

No one intervened—our alcoholic stepmother continued unchecked, and our father did not step in.

Against that backdrop, George’s later struggles with drinking, reckless choices, and incarceration are sadly understandable. The circumstances we came from were overwhelming.

Still, George refused to surrender optimism.

As children, we endured acts of cruelty that remain difficult to put into words. Once, our stepmother sprayed oven cleaner directly into George’s eye. I locked us in the laundry room and rinsed it as best I could with a wet cloth. He […]

Notes From George – Memories, Loss, and the First Catch That Shaped a Lifetime – Series

The timing of each story feels almost fated — as though George himself is guiding my writing. His final days still bring tears to my eyes, but I picture him now soaring beyond sorrow, weightless, laughing, and completely free. People understood George in their own ways, filtered through their experiences and the times they lived in. Life has a way of distorting the view — time and space can turn truth into illusion.

After our mother died, we became spectators of our own story, moving through a strict chain of events. It was only our unshakable bond that helped us hold on. Through something mysterious and unseen, we both managed to shape our own lives.

Much of it felt unplanned — as […]

Notes From George – Don’t Forget to Love – Series

From the time he was eight, George used to tell me he was certain everyone else knew a secret he didn’t.

He couldn’t explain what it was—only that something in his life felt missing, and that emptiness ached.

Our mother had been gone two years, and we’d been passed from one relative to another, so I assumed he missed her. But there was always something deeper in George’s restlessness—a quiet awareness that he didn’t quite belong.

That sense of being out of step with the world became, for him, a lifelong search for meaning.

He would sometimes ask if he was an “accident,” if he hadn’t really been meant to be part of our […]

Notes From George – Remembering George – Series

George and I always shared a deep love for the water. For me, that meant living along the coastline for fifty years and now settling near two quiet lakes.

For George, it meant the vast ocean of Port Alexander, Alaska—an untamed place where the tides, currents, and winds of Southeast Alaska ruled daily life.

We both grew up in a family where love and respect weren’t evenly distributed, and yes, there were times when we felt alone and even frightened. So, George and I created our own joy—we threw little parties, dreamed of mansions, and clung to each other’s company.

I adored George and admired his simple, steady energy. He never graduated from high school, […]

The Girl Left Behind – Haunted by Her Death- Series

On the evening of October 14, 1962, George and I were just kids on vacation, free from rules and bedtimes.

We laughed with Aunt Connie and Uncle Chuck while cousin Mike popped us bowls of popcorn, the buttery smell filling the kitchen. Later, we clanged away at the pinball machine in the garage, its flashing lights making us feel like the night could go on forever.

When we finally grew tired, we hugged and kissed Aunt Connie and Uncle Chuck goodnight, wrapped in their warmth, before curling up in our beds, safe and happy.

The house grew quiet. We drifted into sleep without a care in the world. But then, somewhere in the darkest hours, […]

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