A Mission to Support Veterans

Our Mission

My brother Miguel was more than family; he was my father figure, my role model, and my closest friend. He inspired me to join the military, shaping the person I am today. Miguel’s journey, however, was marked by the heavy burden. He retired from the army with multiple deployments and he carried immense pain that only deepened over time. We often leaned on each other sharing stories, memories, and the grief that came with the loss of friends but despite our countless conversations, it became too much for him to bear alone.

In his honor, I’m committed to supporting veterans who face similar battles, especially those struggling with PTSD. By giving back to veterans’ charities, my goal is to help other families hold onto their loved ones a little longer. If I can bring hope to even one veteran, I do so proudly in Miguel’s memory and for every veteran who deserves the peace they fought so hard to protect.

How it works

In honor of veterans like Miguel, we’ve set up a simple way for you to join us in supporting veterans’ charities.

May & November Donations: For any bookings made during the months of May and November, 10% of the total will be donated to a veterans’ charity of your choice from our selected charities below.
Year-Round Matching: Throughout the rest of the year, if you choose to donate on top of your services, I’ll match your donation 1-for-1, up to the total service amount.

Together, we can make a meaningful impact in supporting veterans and honoring those who have served.

Charities

Why This is Important

Some of us called him Mighty Mouse, Mike, Castillo, dad, brother, or Miche. Miguel was many things to many people, but he struggled with who he was and where he truly belonged. He loved this country, yet he often reminisced about his homeland, feeling as if he didn’t quite fit into either place.

Miguel was a leader who hid his pain from his soldiers, though he carried a deep guilt for those who didn’t make it back. He picked at the scabs of his memories, haunted by those he couldn’t save—not just in Iraq and Afghanistan, but also those who returned, only to be caught in battles within their own minds.

Despite his pain, his laughter and smile were magnetic, drawing people in with an effortless charm. Miguel had an energy that filled the room, a gravity that pulled you in, leaving you wondering what it was that made him so irresistible. He cared deeply for everyone around him, often at the expense of himself. When he had the chance to focus on his own well-being, he struggled, often minimizing his pain, believing it was less than that of others and something he could simply “suck up.” After retiring, instead of seeking help, he turned to alcohol.

I often wonder if I could have done more, but I was there in the moments when his burden grew too heavy to carry alone. I helped him shoulder his grief when he felt like his body was falling apart, and he did the same for me when I was struggling. Our bond was that strong.

I wanted to help him, I felt I could help him, I thought if not I, then who? But I also felt trapped, pleading with my family to reach out to him and begging him to come stay with me. He was on a path of self-destruction, and I didn’t know how to help. When he contracted COVID-19, his weakened body couldn’t put up a fight, and he lost that final battle.

So, why is this important? Honestly, I don’t know. For me, this is just a sliver of his story. There was so much to who Miguel was that a book could never capture it all. But this part of his story reminds me that there are many others like him—veterans who are struggling silently. My hope is to reach them and show them how much they are loved, even when they may not feel it themselves.