Letters Without Limits, founded by students at Johns Hopkins and Brown University, connects volunteers with palliative care and hospice patients to co-create “Legacy Letters.” These letters capture memories, values and lessons that patients wish to share, preserving stories that might otherwise be lost. By honoring these voices and preserving legacies, Letters Without Limits hopes to affirm the central role of humanism in medicine, reminding us that every patient is more than their illness and that their voices deserve to be heard. As you read these powerful Legacy Letters, we invite you to pause, reflect and recognize the beauty in every life.
Interviewer’s Note
Linda McDaniel is a giver. As she puts it, the day she had her firstborn, she set her own needs down on a chair and devoted the rest of her life to making her children happy. In my first few hours with her, I already felt welcomed like her own grandson. We quickly bonded over our shared affinity for 80s love songs, and she repeatedly emphasized how grateful she was for my time and friendship. Linda emanates gratitude, warmth and tenderness to everyone around her, and I am honored to have crossed paths with such a wonderful woman.
Linda has lived in Hampden for practically all 75 years of her life. While she has three kids of her own, she also owned a daycare for over 20 years, touching the lives of countless families and young children in Baltimore. She was known as Mother Goose with her Ducklings.
Throughout her room I saw pictures of her parents, children, grandchildren and two young great-grandsons. Most notable was one photo hanging near her window — it was Linda and her husband, Jerry, posing with a fully grown, unrestrained tiger sitting inches away from them. I just had to learn more, as it was clear to me that Linda’s relationship with Jerry was something special. Linda told me she had a longstanding crush on George Michael — she lost 155 pounds dancing to his music videos and even had a poster of him in her bedroom — but she likes to say that’s the L-U-V kind of love. Her love for Jerry is the true, L-O-V-E kind.
To the Love of My Life
Dear Jerry,
Even though it’s been almost two years since you passed, I miss you dearly. I wanted to look back on our 55 years together. You may be gone, but you’re still my husband, and I’m still your wife.
When we first met, I thought you were just a young boy with a crush. After all, I was 22 and you weren’t even 18! I struggled so much carrying that heavy bag of kitty litter out of the gas station, then you came out running over offering to help me. You carried it all the way home for me like the gentleman you’ve always been. The cat ran away, but you stayed. For that, I am so grateful.
You stayed through all my tantrums, through all those times I yelled at you, no matter how wrong I was. In 55 years, you never cursed, raised your voice or got mad at me, not even once. I remember when it was my dad’s birthday, and I broke my hand taking his heavy case of beer out of the trunk just 20 minutes after you told me not to. I had no choice but to call you to take me to the hospital. I felt so guilty, but you didn’t ask any questions. That’s the part of you I fell in love with — your patience and your kindness. I’m sorry if sometimes I didn’t treat you the same way.
Even after so many years together, you’ve always known how to surprise me. Those are my fondest memories with you. Most girls can only say they have one ring, their wedding ring, but on our 35th Christmas together, you gave me this beautiful diamond ring that I still wear proudly today! Here at Keswick, you surprised me with an extravagant 45th anniversary party with cake, filet mignon and a dozen red roses. You’ve kept our love as alive as it was the day we got married. How lucky I am.
Then almost two years ago, you had a heart attack in the hospital. The doctors did all they could, and your body persisted for seven more days before you passed. I loved you with all my heart, Jerry, but you shattered it. You knew how much you mean to me. You’re the love of my life, the father of our three beautiful children. For weeks, I was so mad at you. I cursed and I cried. I couldn’t understand why you would leave us like that.
Now that I’ve grieved, I look back on our final moments with gratitude. The last words you spoke to me were, “I love you.” I said, “I love you too, baby.” I like to think that in your final seven days, your heart persevered for me.
With all my L-O-V-E,
Linda
Legacy
To the reader,
Thank you for listening to my story. Jerry is the most important person in the world to me. Maintaining a relationship might be the hardest thing you ever do, but it’s also the most rewarding. You and your partner must work as a team. Marriage is a two-way street. Don’t let little grudges get in the way of saying “I love you” at the end of a phone call or when leaving for work. You never know when might be the last time you speak to each other.
Overall, I am most grateful for my husband Jerry, my three children and my life. I almost died twice after all. I don’t want to be famous or have the world remember me for anything. I just want my family to remember my big mouth, that I am a giver and that I will always love them.
It’s been a wonderful life, and one hell of a ride.
Letters Without Limits is a student-led initiative founded at Johns Hopkins and Brown University that partners with palliative care and hospice patients to create “Legacy Letters,” autobiographical narratives capturing memories, values and lessons patients wish to share. Their primary goal is to spread these stories so that every patient’s voice is heard. Follow them on Instagram @letterswithoutlimits and read more Legacy Letters on their website.
