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Talita Baliza
Talita Baliza
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Friday 21 August 2026 17:00:00 GMT
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her. if you’re reading this, then I’m not here to tell you myself. so let me. She was the kind of woman who spent years trying to understand herself with the same tenderness she offered everyone else. Not because she was self-absorbed. Because life had handed her mysteries she never should have been asked to solve. She carried a little girl who hid in birch trees. A young widow whose heart shattered too soon. A mother who raised six children while surviving storms most people never saw. And somehow she learned to sit beside all of them instead of abandoning any of them. She didn’t believe healing meant erasing the past. She believed healing meant making room for it. ⸻ things she loved: ♡ ocean horizons ♡ geckos tucked into lava rock ♡ horses learning to trust ♡ sunrise coffee ♡ old family photographs ♡ Portuguese ancestry trails ♡ grandchildren laughter ♡ handwritten journals ♡ meaningful conversations ♡ people who tell the truth ♡ Hawaii rain on a metal roof ♡ the dream of Portugal ♡ finding beauty in ordinary things ⸻ She noticed things. Not just details. People. The lonely person in the room. The nervous smile. The sadness hiding behind a joke. The child still living inside an adult. She paid attention the way some people pray. And because of that, strangers often felt seen around her. ⸻ notes from her phone: * home is the place inside myself that no longer leaves when everything else does * sometimes understanding someone’s heart doesn’t require abandoning your own * becoming someone my own body can trust * I am my safe place now * healing isn’t becoming harder * healing is becoming more honest * choose peace over emotional intensity * the future deserves a seat at the table too * survive less. live more. ⸻ Her camera roll was full of things most people would’ve walked past. Clouds. Geckos. Ocean water. A horse’s nose. Grandchildren. Sunsets. Construction progress on a piece of lava land most people couldn’t yet imagine becoming home. Not because she was documenting life. Because she was practicing gratitude. ⸻ inside jokes & little things: * naming her truck Betty White * talking to geckos like neighbors * “Love Island” narrated by lizards * adopting emotional support horses she didn’t technically own * turning life lessons into journal entries before breakfast * crying over things that were beautiful * crying over things that were sad * crying because something was both ⸻ She wasn’t interested in appearing strong. She wanted to be real. There is a difference. Strong people often hide. Real people tell the truth. She spent years becoming real. ⸻ her playlists: golden hour ocean silence healing isn’t linear coffee before courage letters I’ll never send the women I have been Portugal someday still becoming ⸻ She loved deeply. Sometimes too deeply. She could see the best in people long after they had stopped seeing the best in themselves. This was both her gift and her heartbreak. But toward the end, she was learning something important: Love that costs you yourself is too expensive. And that lesson changed everything. ⸻ She was not searching for perfection. She was searching for congruence. For a life where her heart, body, voice, boundaries, and dreams finally lived in the same house together. And slowly… they did. ⸻ if you knew her: You probably felt heard. You probably received encouragement when you least expected it. You probably walked away feeling a little more human than when you arrived. Because that was her magic. Not beauty. Not wisdom. Not resilience. Connection. She had a way of sitting beside another soul and quietly saying: “Me too.” ⸻ she would want you to know: Take the trip. Call your children. Watch the sunset. Pet the horse. Tell the truth. Protect your peace. Forgive yourself for how long survival took. Trust the life that is still unfolding. And remember— a human life is not a completed manuscript while it is still being lived. Because if she taught anything at all, it was this: The woman you are becoming deserves to be listened to, too. ♡ — April Mudrick Miloliʻi, Hawaiʻi “Collecting moments, not things.” 🌺 #chatgptprompts
her. if you’re reading this, then I’m not here to tell you myself. so let me. She was the kind of woman who spent years trying to understand herself with the same tenderness she offered everyone else. Not because she was self-absorbed. Because life had handed her mysteries she never should have been asked to solve. She carried a little girl who hid in birch trees. A young widow whose heart shattered too soon. A mother who raised six children while surviving storms most people never saw. And somehow she learned to sit beside all of them instead of abandoning any of them. She didn’t believe healing meant erasing the past. She believed healing meant making room for it. ⸻ things she loved: ♡ ocean horizons ♡ geckos tucked into lava rock ♡ horses learning to trust ♡ sunrise coffee ♡ old family photographs ♡ Portuguese ancestry trails ♡ grandchildren laughter ♡ handwritten journals ♡ meaningful conversations ♡ people who tell the truth ♡ Hawaii rain on a metal roof ♡ the dream of Portugal ♡ finding beauty in ordinary things ⸻ She noticed things. Not just details. People. The lonely person in the room. The nervous smile. The sadness hiding behind a joke. The child still living inside an adult. She paid attention the way some people pray. And because of that, strangers often felt seen around her. ⸻ notes from her phone: * home is the place inside myself that no longer leaves when everything else does * sometimes understanding someone’s heart doesn’t require abandoning your own * becoming someone my own body can trust * I am my safe place now * healing isn’t becoming harder * healing is becoming more honest * choose peace over emotional intensity * the future deserves a seat at the table too * survive less. live more. ⸻ Her camera roll was full of things most people would’ve walked past. Clouds. Geckos. Ocean water. A horse’s nose. Grandchildren. Sunsets. Construction progress on a piece of lava land most people couldn’t yet imagine becoming home. Not because she was documenting life. Because she was practicing gratitude. ⸻ inside jokes & little things: * naming her truck Betty White * talking to geckos like neighbors * “Love Island” narrated by lizards * adopting emotional support horses she didn’t technically own * turning life lessons into journal entries before breakfast * crying over things that were beautiful * crying over things that were sad * crying because something was both ⸻ She wasn’t interested in appearing strong. She wanted to be real. There is a difference. Strong people often hide. Real people tell the truth. She spent years becoming real. ⸻ her playlists: golden hour ocean silence healing isn’t linear coffee before courage letters I’ll never send the women I have been Portugal someday still becoming ⸻ She loved deeply. Sometimes too deeply. She could see the best in people long after they had stopped seeing the best in themselves. This was both her gift and her heartbreak. But toward the end, she was learning something important: Love that costs you yourself is too expensive. And that lesson changed everything. ⸻ She was not searching for perfection. She was searching for congruence. For a life where her heart, body, voice, boundaries, and dreams finally lived in the same house together. And slowly… they did. ⸻ if you knew her: You probably felt heard. You probably received encouragement when you least expected it. You probably walked away feeling a little more human than when you arrived. Because that was her magic. Not beauty. Not wisdom. Not resilience. Connection. She had a way of sitting beside another soul and quietly saying: “Me too.” ⸻ she would want you to know: Take the trip. Call your children. Watch the sunset. Pet the horse. Tell the truth. Protect your peace. Forgive yourself for how long survival took. Trust the life that is still unfolding. And remember— a human life is not a completed manuscript while it is still being lived. Because if she taught anything at all, it was this: The woman you are becoming deserves to be listened to, too. ♡ — April Mudrick Miloliʻi, Hawaiʻi “Collecting moments, not things.” 🌺 #chatgptprompts


Cindy & Mei 🔥 #fyp #paratii #rolitaschidas #paraestados #tuhaces #cindyymei #paralaracha
Cindy & Mei 🔥 #fyp #paratii #rolitaschidas #paraestados #tuhaces #cindyymei #paralaracha
#ynwmelly #freemelly #ynwmellyfan #ynwmellyfanpage #melly #edit #ynwmellyedits #fyp #melvin #772love
#ynwmelly #freemelly #ynwmellyfan #ynwmellyfanpage #melly #edit #ynwmellyedits #fyp #melvin #772love
Тг: nurisremix — ссылка в профиле #song #applemusic #песня #spotify #music
Тг: nurisremix — ссылка в профиле #song #applemusic #песня #spotify #music


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