angela sinclair

Always believe that something wonderful is about to happen.....I do!

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@SportsDirect_CS please can someone actually help me with an order I made on 27th February. I've received an email to say its been processd, was given Thursday 6th March as latest delivery to the Chelmsley Wood store. I actually went into this store on 8/3/2025, to find no order

[TheTattooedHeadteacher Deputy CEO 🏳️‍🌈✊🏾she/her @KyrstieStubbs]

Good morning- I love this quote-
Caring is sometimes seen as a weakness-
For me it is the greatest strength -
Leaders especially should lead with compassion x ❤️

[John Dabell @John_Dabell]

What are you going to bring to this day?
Excuses or effort?
Groans or grit?
Drift or direction?
Bitterness or backbone?
Withdrawal or willingness?
You do not have to conquer the world today, just bring a smile and a positive perspective.

[Blake Burge @blakeaburge]

A friend of mine used to say: “Show up on time, with a good attitude, and do what you said you’d do. That’s it. That’s 90% of winning in life." The older I get, the more I realize just how right he was.

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@emmahoneybone Beautiful photo xxxx

[Michael & Rebecca @Michaeljos92972]

MY GRIEF COUNSELOR ASKED ME THIS MORNNG, "WHAT DO I THINK HAPPENS WHEN [I] DIE?"

My response:
"I don’t know exactly what happens when I die. Anyone who tells you they do is selling certainty to people terrified of uncertainty. After everything I’ve lived through — abandonment, cancer, caregiving, losing my pets and most heartbreakingly, watching Rebecca slowly disappear from Parkinson’s at such a young age, so quickly and so painfully 💔 losing so many people I've loved — I no longer believe life is simple enough for easy answers.
But I also don’t believe love just evaporates into nothing.
I can’t.
I’ve felt too much of it.
I think when I die, the suffering finally stops. The noise stops. The anxiety, the panic attacks, the exhaustion of fighting through one impossible year after another… I think all of that finally grows quiet. Not erased. Just released.
And maybe what’s left is the truest part of us.
Not our titles. Not our money. Not our mistakes. Not even our broken bodies.
Just the love we gave away.
I think part of me will remain with the people and animals I loved most and who's lives I've touched. In Bella curled at the foot of the bed. In Bambi searching the house for Rebecca. In Winston and Penny staring into empty rooms like they still see something I can’t. In little Peanut someday hearing stories about the brokenhearted old man who held him against his chest at night because grief made sleep feel dangerous.
And my family, I hope I made them all proud. Damn, I certainly tried. 😢
And Rebecca…
God, I hope there’s a Rebecca.
I hope somehow, someway, the universe is kinder than this world often feels. I hope I get to hear her laugh again. I hope I get one more ordinary moment with her — sitting quietly together while nothing special happens at all. I'll hug her and never let her go. Because in the end, those were the holiest moments of my life.
Do I believe in heaven?
Maybe not the version painted on church ceilings.
But I believe human souls leave echoes behind. I believe love changes shape instead of dying. I believe grief itself is proof that something mattered so deeply it could not simply vanish without leaving fingerprints everywhere.
And if I’m wrong? If death is only silence?
Then I hope the people who knew me will still feel my presence in small moments. During a thunderstorm over a golf course. In an old story about television and second chances. In an essay read at two in the morning by someone who feels abandoned by the world and suddenly realizes they are not alone. In someone I have given hope to. In all of the mistakes I've made. Each and every time I've done my best to bounce back up and become a better man.
That would be enough for me.
To know that after I’m gone, some small piece of my heart kept somebody else alive a little longer.
And if death truly is nothing more than darkness, then let the last proof I ever existed be this: somewhere, in the middle of the night, a brokenhearted stranger read my words, cried quietly to themselves, and decided to stay alive one more day. 💙

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@Michaeljos92972 This is exactly what I'm hoping when I go. I'm hoping for a Rainbow bridge too❤️. I hope to the highest of heaven, that all MY goodness and love for everybody I've loved and lived for, shows and lives on in them and all they do❤️❤️. Xxxxx

[Michael & Rebecca @Michaeljos92972]

New Followers. Welcome Back!!!!!!

I’ve spent years sharing my words freely because I know what it feels like to be scared, overwhelmed, grieving, or simply trying to survive another day. If my writing has ever comforted you, made you feel less alone, or brought a little peace into your life, I’m grateful beyond words.
This is my new page since I was hacked the day my wife died. Trolls and Bots need not apply. I’m simply trying to find my friends again — the kind, compassionate souls who have walked beside me through love, loss, cancer, caregiving, and grief. Your support means more than you know. This is my new account. Climb on board.

[Michael & Rebecca @Michaeljos92972]

A BIG ASK! 💙💙

I have a small favor to ask, and I hope it comes across in the spirit it’s intended — not as desperation, but honesty.
Yesterday I had a long conversation with my publisher about the slow sales of THE FAIRWAYS OF WISDOM. In the past four days, only eight copies sold. He was kind, but direct. The truth is, when my account was hacked the night after Rebecca died, I lost more than 30,000+ followers overnight — an audience that took nearly eight years to build.
Sure, some were probably bots or trolls. But many thousands were real people. Compassionate people. Loyal readers. Friends who walked beside me through some of the hardest years of my life.
My old account averaged nearly 500,000-750,000 impressions a week, with close to a 65% engagement. My new page — Michael & Rebecca
@Michaeljos92972 — has fewer than 5,000 followers and reaches only a fraction of the people it once did. The engagement is down dramatically. In simple terms, most people simply are not seeing what I write anymore. It's all about ALGORITHMS!
And that hurts.
For years, I’ve tried to write honestly. I brought all of you inside the Whelan family through cancer, COVID, job loss, Bella’s broken back, and most painfully, Rebecca’s long battle with Parkinson’s. Many of you were there with me on March 5th when she passed away. You watched our lives unfold in real time — the beauty, the heartbreak, the exhaustion, the love.
Writing has never been about fame for me. It’s been about connection. About advocacy. About trying to make people feel less alone.
I still want to do that.
I still want to write books. Essays. Stories. I still want to fight for caregivers, patients, animal rescues, and the people who feel unseen in this world. But in today’s social media landscape, if people can’t see your words, it becomes almost impossible to keep going. So far I have written almost two million words. That takes a lot of time, thought and love.
So here’s my ask:
If my writing has ever meant something to you… if one essay ever made you feel understood… if Rebecca’s story touched your heart… if Bella ever made you smile or shed a tear please consider recommending my page to a few people you trust. Maybe 3. Maybe 7. Maybe 10. As many as you can. And I've learned that when you ask people a favor YOU must explain the WHY.
That simple act could help rebuild what was lost. It could push the algorithms enough so these stories start reaching people again instead of disappearing into the noise.
And if my work isn’t for you, that’s completely okay too. No hard feelings. Just quietly scroll on and let others decide for themselves.
I know this is a big ask. Asking for help has never been easy for me. But I also know something else:
The kindest communities are built one human being at a time.
Thank you for reading me. Thank you for carrying Rebecca’s memory forward with me. Thank you for allowing me into your lives all these years.
And if you choose to help, please know this — you are not just helping an author.
You are helping a grieving husband keep his voice alive.
With love and gratitude always,
Michael

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@Michaeljos92972 Wishing you a lovely birthday, bittersweet, I know, but still need you to know what a special person you are xxxx

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@mikejwhelan My heart breaks alongside yours❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@mikejwhelan Yes please, also been following for over a year, as a caregiver for my dad with dementia, I've been living parallel to all you and Rebecca are living. Think about you daily xxxx❤️❤️

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@charliersmith1 It's them, not you! Ignore them, live a beautiful fulfilling live, day by day. Xxxxx 🥰🥰

[Rani Tiwana @fidsta77]

This still gets me 🩵

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@mikejwhelan Oh Michael, this is such a beautifully written snippet of real love and care, hand in hand with the day to day feelings and fears, all rolled together ❤️ 💙 ♥️

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@mikejwhelan Every single word written is honest and true. I'm living this exact same 'double life ' for just over 2 years. The fact we have nothing to actually help our loved one still live, but totally unaware that they are alive, is everything you write. Thoughts daily xxxx❤️❤️

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@mikejwhelan Never alone❤️ We stand with you, as you stand by us❤️💙❤️xxxxxx

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@mikejwhelan Oh no sweet Bella, fingers crossed xxxx❤️

[angela sinclair @angiesinclair23]

@mikejwhelan Wonderful, would love to see it xxx❤️