Grief is a mountain and it will take me a long time to pick my way down to the valley. There are no trails. I don’t want to hike down, either. I want to sit here alone. People can see me through binoculars and contact me on a radio but they aren’t here with me.
Hank is squeaking at me and Kaleb will never hear him do that over the phone again. He’ll never ask me, “Is that Hank?” again. He’ll never say, “Please tell Hank I said hello,” again. He’ll never hear me say, “Hank! Kaleb says hi!” and wait with me to see if Hank will meow back.
This version would have cost over $8,000 to publish. So what you see in the physical paper and on Legacy.com is cut dramatically. I love you baby, but that’s highway robbery.
Bill is on his own mountain too. So are Gabe, and Daniel, and Scotty. It’s different for them but it’s still a mountain they have to navigate themselves. We all lost him but it’s still a solo journey.
Deb is on her own mountain. She listens to her firstborn. She found him. She didn’t want to but she didn’t want anyone else to find her baby. He was peaceful. They prayed over him. I wanted so badly to see him, at the morgue. They told me I shouldn’t. I should keep my memories and pictures.
I’m on a mountain and I’m boiling hot. I have rations but I’m not hungry. I have water but I can’t bring myself to drink it. Everyone else who has lost someone has been on their own mountain. Even those who lost him aren’t on mine. I’m alone.
Grief is a mountain and it will take me a long time to pick my way down to the valley. There are no trails. I don’t want to hike down, either. I want to sit here alone. People can see me through binoculars and contact me on a radio but they aren’t here with me.
I’m on a mountain and I can’t get to his bed. I’ll never sleep in it again. There’s beds here but they aren’t the same. They don’t have his shoulder to lay my head on. They don’t have his arm to curl around me and cup my breast.
I’m on a mountain and can never say, “Hi, how are you?” to him again. And he won’t stop me and say, “No no, how are you? I need you tell me first. How was your day?”
Kaleb was working on two pieces the week he died. One was for Vanity Fair on Kimmel, and the other was a piece on Brewster Kahl and the Internet Archive. The editors of both attended his memorial and I deeply appreciate it.
Kaleb was working on two pieces the week he died. One was for Vanity Fair on Kimmel, and the other was a piece on Brewster Kahl and the Internet Archive. The editors of both attended his memorial and I deeply appreciate it.
Kaleb wrote in his to-do lists: Find a stranger and compliment them. He valued kindness. I hold grudges and he urged me not to. For his memory, please be kinder and more forgiving to people. Reach out more often. Share the love and gratitude you feel before it’s too late.
People who abandoned and betrayed Kaleb in his life acted like supportive friends at his memorial and I just hope you know you broke his heart. Maybe he would be filled with relief that you really did care, but he’s not here to know it.
I am so lucky to have known and loved him, and so lucky to have be known and loved by him. I knew him in ways others could never hope to. In some ways that feels very special, and in others that feels very lonely.
