Help us rebuild from nothing

The Truth As I Lived It — Help Us Rebuild What Was Taken

To everyone who knows our family, who sat at a table at Amicas or shared a meal from Stoke, this is for you.

Chances are, you know my dad. I’ve even heard him called “Jesus of Salida” because he was always showing up for people. He cooked for fundraisers, sponsored teams, donated meals, and helped people get on their feet. If you needed something, he gave it. Even when we didn’t have much ourselves. He gave everything to our community because he believed in it.

Hi. I’m Aaliyah, and for the first time, I’m sharing my story—my truth—about what happened to our family’s restaurants. For the past couple of years, people have asked. I just didn’t have the strength or really want to talk about it until now. But I’m ready. I’m writing this because everything was taken from him—and well, from all of us.

My dad was the majority owner of Amicas. That restaurant was his life, our family’s entire world, and a place that brought the community together. It was never just a job—it was our home, our pride, and our way of giving back to the town that raised us.

When the idea of opening a second restaurant (Stoke) was brought up, my dad (and I) dove in headfirst. We worked ourselves into the ground to make it happen. We were there every day, every night, doing the work most people didn’t see.

When things got tight, my dad didn’t back out. He cashed out his life insurance, drained his personal savings, and kept going to make sure people stayed paid and fed. We did the work. We showed up. We believed in the dream. In the community.

Then it was all stolen from us. One day, my dad had health insurance, paychecks, and a steady livelihood—and the next, it was all gone. Out of nowhere. The restaurant he built from the ground up was no longer his. Two weeks before Christmas, Stoke closed without warning, and more than 20 people lost their jobs. My dad was cut out of both businesses completely.

It broke our hearts—and it broke us financially. My dad’s name, his legacy, everything he gave to this town—it was gone. It was stolen and we didn’t have the resources or power to stop it.

And no one got to hear our side of the story.

The hardest part? I stayed. For nearly a year after everything happened, I continued working at Amicas. I clung to the idea that maybe some part of my family still existed there. I showed up to work every day, head down, holding in everything I could’ve screamed.

Every day people would ask me, “How’s your dad doing?” “How’s your family?” And every time, I’d just smile and say, “We’re good.” But we weren’t.

Now, I finally have the strength to say that out loud—not to start drama, but to share what really happened.

After losing everything, our family slowly sold everything else we loved—our skis, rafts, camper, bikes, plants, art—just to keep going. Just to pay bills and eat and survive.

Eventually, we moved to Mexico, where we’ve started over from scratch. Today, we run a small restaurant. It’s beautiful. It’s full of heart and good food and new beginnings—and people here love it, just like Salida once loved us. There’s hope. But starting from nothing, with no savings and so much pain, hasn’t been easy.

My dad is pushing through health struggles right now that most people wouldn’t even be able to stand with—yet he shows up every single day. He works in the kitchen, shoulders the weight of our family’s survival, and never complains. Even now, after everything that’s happened, he’s still the one putting others first.

And right beside him every day is my mom. I’ve never met a more resilient, steady, or loving person in my life. She is the glue that holds us all together. She works just as hard, supports all of us endlessly, and has never once stopped believing in this dream. She shows up not just as a partner, but as the heart of our family—quietly making everything possible. She deserves just as much credit as anyone for the life we’re trying to rebuild.

Even my little brothers are working 20 hours a week, just for tips—to help our family stay afloat. They’re 15, 13, and 11 years old, and already some of the hardest workers I’ve ever known.

Right now, we have what we need—but only the bare essentials. And still, I’ve never seen a more grateful bunch of people than my parents and my brothers. They smile. They love big. And they keep going, even with nothing but each other.

That’s why I’m here.

I’m not asking for help out of bitterness or revenge. Not to go after anyone. Not to drag anyone down. I’m asking for help to keep our life going—our new life. To keep our new little family restaurant alive during the slow season. To help cover basic needs like food, health care, education for my little brothers, a roof that doesn’t leak. To rebuild from the ground up and give my family some of the peace they’ve worked so hard for. My parents have always given me the world and i want to do anything i can to help them.

If you ever ate at Amicas or Stoke, if my dad ever made you a meal, helped your family, or showed up for you, please consider donating. And if you can’t, sharing our story means more than you know.

And with all that being said—please continue to support Amicas. I have so many friends there who rely on your support, and I want nothing but the best for them too.

This is just my side of the story. But it’s real. And it matters.

Nobody asked me to write this—not my dad or my mom. This is my story I’m choosing to share in hope of finding support for my families new dream.

My dad once told me he wanted to be retired by 45, but here he is, at 42—completely starting over, working so hard to make sure my little brothers have everything they need and deserve.

All my love,

Aaliyah