This letter was written by Charlotte, a Notre Dame High School student who participated in the June 2025 TJNFF/NDHS Dominican Republic mission trip.

Dear Nick,

The Earth has made its way around the sun eleven times since you left, yet your name still lingers in the air like a prayer. Your name is etched into the hearts of those who love in your name. You are the purpose for life, for hope, for belonging, for reflection.

I first heard your name through the echoes of your parents' voices, as they spoke about Thrive In Joy, and that’s when I knew I wanted to be part of the 2025 Dominican Republic Immersion Trip. My friend and I talked to our parents about attending, and they agreed with ease, so we furiously signed up, and months later we were purchasing plane tickets. It honestly didn’t feel real until I was actually on the plane, in the air, where your soul touched mine.

There were eight students that attended this year and we were met by members of Casa Misionera. I was introduced to arms that felt like home, laughter that cracked open quiet folds in me, and meals that nourished more than hunger.

The kids at Remar Orphanage were magnetic, and even though our words didn’t always align, our laughter did. They were always relentless in their joy, always asking for another game, another splash, another piggyback ride. When I sat down to get a sip of water, they kept playing like their energy never ran out. My favorite moment was during construction when the skies opened and poured down on us on the field. My friends and I ran into the rain with no plan, and soon the orphanage children joined us, chasing soccer balls and slipping in mud. Our clothes were soaked but that was negligible compared to the pure happiness it all brought us, an unspoken language we all knew.

We visited many communities during our time, and each one taught me something new about the importance of generosity, perspective, and joy. Another unforgettable day was food distribution in Herrera. We packed bags full of flour, beans, pasta, oil, and other essentials and hand delivered them to people. Some homes had cracked walls, some were pieced together, some were filled with piled clothes and dirty dishes. Most of them were aging souls with wrinkles and shaky fingers, but their faces flooded with gratitude and warmth the moment we stepped inside.

There was one man I still think about. He lived under a roof of cardboard pieces, and the team told us he had barely ever left his home. I don't think I'll ever forget the moment his eyes lit up, not just when he was handed food, but when we stood before him, praying for him, speaking to him, and treating him like someone who mattered. That moment made me feel the quiet weight of what it means to be present, to care, and to truly see beyond the barriers.

At night, the other students and I would return to the mission house and jump into the pool, staying until someone told us it was time to get out. We stayed up past midnight playing card games in the kitchen and stifling laughter when trying to sleep.

We toured famous sites like the Colonial Zone and Museum, ventured to the beach where stray dogs wandered in the sand, watched a talent show at Remar and felt our hearts swell as the children saw themselves in a movie, visited the aquarium, had a delicious barbecue dinner, and cried as we drove away from a family found at Remar.

Throughout it all, I kept feeling an invisible thread that stretched through each moment. Like someone was guiding it all from behind the scenes.I didn’t know you, Nick, but by the end of the week I felt like I’d seen your spirit a hundred times over. I hadn’t just heard stories about you, I had lived inside them. In the hugs, the laughter, the sun-drenched mornings, they were all painted by the love you left behind. Your legacy is not something that faded with time, it still breathes. It lives in every person your name reaches, and now, in me too. Thank you, Nick, for the way you taught me without ever meeting me, what it means to thrive in joy, and that love is strong enough to surpass a single lifetime.