A Eulogy For My Husband

William Whittenburg III – 1978-2022

Of all the things I expected in life, it wasn’t this. Being widowed at age 37. But here I am. I have lost my beloved husband to the disease of addiction. I wrote this eulogy to honor him and tell his story. Thank you for reading.

Cherished friends and family. I wish so badly we didn’t have to gather today like this. And with that in mind I thank you profusely for showing up. I know funerals aren’t easy. Especially for someone as young, and as special as Will. This is an unthinkable loss. It doesn’t seem real. Why do the best people get taken like this? 

I’m River. Will’s wife of nearly five years. I’d like to share a little bit about us, and the time we had. Will and I were best friends. Close confidants. Partners in life. He added so much fun, and wonder, and silliness, and rightness to my life. He was my person. My soulmate. Our relationship was indescribably special.

We met on November 5^th, 2017. I was immediately enthralled by this handsome silver fox with kind eyes and such a bright, welcoming, goofy spirit. Saying that we hit it off is a massive understatement. The connection we immediately shared was electric, and soul level, and powerful. There were a lot of things that just fit and made sense. We ‘got’ each other straight away.

We had shared similar childhoods (both homeschooled all twelve years), we worked in similar industries and understood the grind of our individual careers. We had a very similar way of feeling and experiencing the world. And most importantly, we shared the experience of deep involvement in 12-step recovery programs. Him, Alcoholic’s Anonymous. Me, Codependent’s Anonymous. The joke there is that a codependent and an alcoholic are a match made in Hell. Luckily, we had both experienced the lifesaving gift of our programs, and we were both in unbelievable places with our recoveries. So for us, it was Heaven.

Our first date was at this cute little restaurant in Virginia-Highland Atlanta. I let him drive me home after. On my front porch we shyly and sweetly shared our first kiss. After we said goodbye and I shut the door, I sat down on the floor in a stupor, because my brain could not compute. I was like, “Who is that? He is supposed to be in my life.” It’s like I recognized him, without ever having met him before. I floated. I marveled. I could not believe this connection. It was unlike any other experience I have ever had. It sounds so cliché, but I knew. And I knew he knew, too. It was undeniable. We both felt it.

What followed was a total whirlwind, and we became inseparable. We married each other a very controversial two months later. I talked to one of Will’s best recovery friends Joe last week. He told me, “You know, when you and Will first got married, we all thought he’d lost it. He was the king of shortcuts, and we thought that’s what this was. We thought, oh it’ll never last. And then it did.” Yes it did. We knew this relationship was once in a lifetime and we felt it was supposed to last for a lifetime. I just didn’t know it would only be for the rest of his lifetime. I didn’t know he’d leave.

I wish he was here. I miss him so bad. I hurt for him. I know we all do.

We can’t even begin to talk about who Will was without going to the foundation. The souls he loved most in this world. His three children, Neptune, Liam, and Killian. They’re home in Florida where they live with their mother, but last week at the hometown funeral, this is what I said to the children:

Kids, he talked about you all the time. He wanted to be with you all the time. He would turn to me sometimes and just go, “I miss my kids.” He was proud of you, no matter what. He believed in you, he delighted in you, he loved to make you smile and laugh. He was always bragging about you, thinking about you. Crying when it had been too long. Worried about you. Wanting the best for you. The four of us will always have such special memories together. I hope you know how much I love you too. I’ll be here for you however I can be for the rest of my life. Even though Dad is not here on earth anymore, I wanna let you know, you can talk to him out loud or in your head any time. So can any and all of us. His spirit is with us, how could it not be? I’ve been talking to him a lot.

I’m now going to share some words on behalf of the kids about their Daddy.

Killian says his favorite memory of his dad was when he bashed his head on the stairs at the aquarium and his dad rescued him. Killian, Dad thought you were just the coolest guy, and he loved your silly laugh and your big big smile and your fun, goofy personality. He said you were hilarious, and adorable, and so cool. He loves you soooo much.

Liam shared that he just loved spending time with his Dad. Liam, I know you did, and wow, he loved it too. I remember watching the two of you just cuddle up like two little kitty cats and snuggle. He always said you were so smart, and thoughtful, and talented. He loves you sooo much.

Some favorite memories Neptune has of dad are playing Roblox together, driving around the cul-de-sac or down to the gas station when Neptune was just a little tyke. Going to Panavision that one time and seeing the kind of work dad did!

Neptune, I saw a special and powerful connection between you and your father. You two understood each other in a way that will forever exist. Dad was intensely proud of you in every last way. He couldn’t believe how artistically talented you are, or how sweet. How kind. How loving, and strong. He loves you soooo much.

Will was a proud and adoring dad. Watching him with his kids was special. He was gentle, caring, and so affectionate with them. He loved to see them happy, and healthy. All he ever wanted was for them to treat others well and be kind. That to him was their ultimate success.

Besides being a devoted, loving, adoring father to his children, Will was friendly. Kind. Caring. Funny. He used to make me laugh until my stomach hurt with his funny little observations, his quirks, his fun-loving sense of moving through the world. His brother Jeremy said he always loved how Will could tell a story of a thousand words all with facial expressions alone.

Will’s sense of humor was very unique. His favorite thing to talk and joke about was farting and poop and butts. One time, he put the following event into our shared calendar: “Sit near River and quietly fart all day.” He had a way of making every day feel special and fun.

We liked to prank each other. Play hide and seek from each other at randomly chosen times. He would make Alexa play fart sounds through our house or he’d paste song lyrics or famous lines of dialogue into the announcement system to make me laugh. For payback, I’d hack his Bluetooth speaker and play Nickelback – the bane of his existence. We laughed a lot. We loved to spend time in nature, ride our bikes, relax at home, play with our dogs, take the kids fun places, and endlessly repeat all of our very obscure inside jokes to each other.

Besides being hilarious and fun, Will was hard working. You must to be Local 600. Camera crew hours are long and brutal. The working conditions are intense. He was frequently over exhausted and dehydrated. He got heat exhaustion quite a few times, and heat rashes, sweat rashes, ear infections from the ear piece crew has to wear, cracked fingers from film loading, messed up shoulders and a neck that bothered him a lot. He didn’t really ever complain. He had one of the best attitudes of anyone I’ve ever met. Sometimes he only had six hours between leaving set and needing to be back. Watching him operate on fumes both inspired and worried me. The industry must change. I knew it then, and I know it now. But more on that later. 

Will also had an intriguing spiritual side. He was someone who had decided that he saw truth in many paths, and he often said to me, “I have no business deciding who God is or isn’t.” I found his openness and flexibility admirable and fascinating. He meditated, he read about Taoism, he expressed interest in Buddhism. All while also often telling me, “my higher power is Madea!” Go figure.

There’s no one like him in the world.

At his core of cores, Will was a highly principled man with the most humility and gentleness I’ve ever met. He cared so genuinely about everyone he ever met, and about his communities: film, recovery, and Atlanta, a city he has deep roots in. I’d like to list some of his endeavors and accomplishments now. This is only a drop in the bucket, because I only knew him for about five years, and people keep coming out of the woodwork telling me what he did for them in large and small ways. Will was an expert at leaving an impression, even if you only met him once. People who have never met Will could see how amazing he was through photos and videos alone. I have a feeling the list is endless of how awesome he was. So anyway, here’s a few of the things I had the privilege to see.

He took newbies under his wing, both in recovery and the film industry. He had a heart for being of service and helping others. Will bought a lawnmower for a drifter in our neighborhood to empower him to earn money doing lawncare. He looked out for women on set, because he understood that there’s still a lot of sexism at play there. He genuinely wanted to protect others. We attended rights marches for all beings, humans and animals alike. We took part in many peaceful protests in Atlanta, advocating for equality, justice, human rights, animal rights too.

He recently registered as a volunteer poll worker because he was passionate about voting and voter’s rights. He was a volunteer greeter during the thousand-attending-plus AA Regional Round-Up this year. He chaired AA meetings. He volunteered in an animal rescue with me where we had to extract a couple-hundred pound pig—that was interesting. He shielded a lady and her child from being struck by a car during the height of 2020, with his bike and his body. Without a thought. He was anti-racism, anti-fascism and very outspoken about both. Over the summer at Black Bear Lodge, which is where he got treatment this year, he was calling out racist treatment and comments aimed at a non-white woman on campus – he got in some trouble for it and didn’t mind at all. When in his wise mind, he was always ready to act according to what he thought was right.

At his Florida service, the pastor who knew him as a child mentioned a story about how while playing in the fellowship hall, a young Will knocked over some of the folded tables, killing a lizard. Will cried about the lizard’s death, because he felt compassion for this tiny creature. In 2019, he went vegan shortly after I did, because he connected back to that same mindset he had as a young boy: a deep love for animals, paired with the realization that eating them was paying for their deaths. He rejected this idea and said never again.

Will is an everyday hero. All these seemingly small daily things he did over the years add up into a legendary person. Who I wish to every power that exists was still here with us.

He had the funniest stories. Like, the time Shaq wouldn’t stop tickling him. The time he and Ryan Gosling reached for the same food item across a table during craft service on set. Will said their eyes met and he wanted to giggle. He told me about how Nicole Kidman said he had beautiful eyes. I agree Nicole. He has all these stories about hanging out with Ludacris’ dad, running with the Ying Yang Twins and East Side Boyz. He told me about Norman Reedus bumming a smoke from him, Zoe Saldana complimenting his socks. The socks with his kids faces on them, by the way. He felt a lot of pride for all the things he was accomplishing and working for. There was his visit to the Kennedy Space Center launch pad for the film First Man, the months spent on Walking Dead Season 10… what a cool, wild, beautiful life that was cut too short.

We have lost an invaluable treasure. The sweetest man. The kindest soul. The most forgiving, compassionate, silly, inventive, nerdy, adorable, giving, loving, steadfast, fun person. I still can’t believe it. How can this be? My heart can’t comprehend it. I’ve never felt pain like this before. 

I’d like to read you a condensed excerpt from my wedding vows from January 5^th, 2018 because I feel like they can explain my love for Will better than anything.

“Will. Meeting you was like coming home after a long, long time away. We belong together. I don’t know a lot of things, but I know that. I believe that our entire lives have been bringing us to this place. The place where we’re together – finally.

I promise to always love and respect you as an equal, to always stay awake and teachable through life, to always try my best. To not lead ahead or follow behind, but hold your hand beside you as we walk through life.

I promise to remain considerate, present, and open even when it’s hard.

I promise to love Neptune, Liam, and Killian and be a trustworthy, loving presence in their lives for all the years to come. [I can still keep that promise.]

Will, you are my best friend and safest haven. I am forever thankful that we found each other – not too soon, and not too late. I love you, and the words don’t seem enough, so I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you every day. You’re my favorite. You’re my one in a million, soulmate, love of my life, no looking back, no one else will do. I feel like part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything. I’ll love you until the end of everything too.” [And that part still stands.]

Our love and bond stayed like that. We were just annoyingly in love and happy – yes, there were challenges, we had arguments, there were hurdles to overcome—but unlike every other relationship I’d ever had, we found our way through and it was easy. It made sense. He was so gentle with my flaws and issues, he met me where I was, he never demanded anything from me ever. I loved pouring affection and love into his life. I left him little notes of thanks for how hard he worked, I surprised him with a visit from the kids one father’s day weekend, I had his back in every situation possible. We were bonded, and close, and friends, and lovers, all at the same time. We were solid. Until somewhere maybe halfway through 2021.

It is of crucial importance to give you a clear picture of who Will was in what turned out to be the sunset of his life so that you can bear witness and understand what happened. The truth matters, and it is more important than ever that we emphasize clear communication in our society, especially around the broken parts. I hope that hearing a little bit about what went on can bring you some peace and closure. And maybe even hope.

To set the tone and help you understand Will’s heart, I’d like to share a message he wrote about a year ago. The words were: “Unsolicited advice on self-truthfulness: Good or bad, be honest and talk about it. Especially the bad. Talk about the Rhinoceros-Dickrod in the room. In blazing detail.”

You got it, sweetheart. I can do that for you.

I think everyone is well aware that Will had demons he wrestled with for a lifetime. When I met him, he was living in what he affectionately referred to as “the spirit of the universe’s will.” He was balanced, and content, bulletproof. Clean and sober and filled with serenity. Living proof that recovery works. When he told me brutally honest stories about his past, I was amazed that he could be so changed.

Prior to 2021, I had never seen using Will. I had never seen drunk Will. And I can tell you this much: I never did see drunk Will. To my knowledge, he did not touch alcohol ever again after 2016. With how bad it got and the stories I knew of his past, that always stuck out to me. I’m proud of him for that.

Sometime last year, he became depressed and overwhelmed with life. He stopped going to recovery meetings, he didn’t reach out to his sponsor, he started cancelling on his friends and believing the worst of himself. He spoke his resentments loudly, and let himself slip into negativity, powerlessness, self-loathing, and grudges. That serenity that comes with recovery? It slipped away. As this year began, I recognized something was massively wrong with Will, but I guessed it was work stress and exhaustion, life stress, his internal struggles, etcetera. I was covered up in my own intense depression, honestly. 2020 and 2021 were brutal years for both of us, and for people we loved. The happy home we’d shared before wasn’t there like before. Life at home became Chaotic. Dishonest. Traumatic. Hurtful. Sad. Confusing. I withdrew. So did he.

In mid or late May, I discovered he’d been using since at least January. I can’t describe to you the utter helplessness and terror and rage I felt at the lies and how bad it was. I understood that I had to use my recovery like never before, and thanks to the boundaries I held he went to rehab right away – then came right back out because he was so worried about providing for his children and for me. Of course, he slipped right back into using and nearly died, all while I watched helplessly. Thankfully, after a brief hospitalization, he went back in to rehab and stayed in this time.

Briefly, there was a break of sunlight through the clouds. He got clean, and his serenity returned. I visited him a couple weeks prior to his release and I remember seeing the man I loved again and feeling so hopeful. He held my hands, he radiated gratitude and hope and sounded like himself again. He was calm, and relaxed, and his heart was sparkling in his eyes again. I felt cautious and my trust was very broken, but I didn’t let my resentments and fears dictate my choices. I was willing to go through this with him as long as he was working toward his healing. But it wasn’t easy.

While he did his work, I had seen to mine. I had begun to attend Al-Anon and Nar-Anon intensely. Midsummer, I came to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity. And the day I was able to really believe that, I was given this incredible moment of transformative love where all the intense anger and even hatred I felt just lifted off like fog on a mountain when the sun comes up. I cried as my body and mind were both filled with lightness, and peace, and serenity. I was filled with understanding, and intense compassion for what he and every addict is and was facing. I felt overwhelmed with love and empathy and care for Will. I still feel that.

So many people blame addicts for “choosing” to use substances. It is not that simple, and people must stop using this language to dismiss the disease. I need you to understand how much Will was battling inside. He was not a bad person who just liked drugs and drinking, and wanted to hurt people, and didn’t care. That patently could not be further from the truth. He was a hurting and unhealed human being, who didn’t know how else to cope and had fallen into an uncontrollable inclination toward substance abuse. What he wanted was not always in line with his actions, because he was very sick, his own worst enemy when he let go of his recovery protocols.

I’m about to share something with you that might make you wonder where I’m going with this. Hold tight, stay with me, it’ll make sense in a minute or two.

Will had a relatively new mental health diagnosis he was grappling with. The diagnosis is called DID. Dissociative Identity Disorder. Around the same time he got this diagnosis, the most incredible thing in his life occurred: he identified the root cause of his addiction, which had been in memories his disorder suppressed for thirty plus years. And what did Will do, despite being freaked out by the diagnosis? He faced it all head on. I was so proud of him, because as someone who’s been in a lot of therapy and definitely needs a lot more, I know personally how hard it is to fix yourself and be honest with yourself. But not impossible. I knew he was gonna recover. And he would have. I know he would have.

Let me briefly help you understand what DID is, because I really think it may help some things make sense to you about Will.

Dissociative identity disorder is characterized by a person’s identity fragmenting into two or more distinct personality states. Dissociation is a break in how your mind handles information. You may feel disconnected from your thoughts, feelings, memories, and surroundings. It can affect your sense of identity and your perception of time. The disorder is accompanied by amnesiac memory gaps more severe than could be explained by ordinary forgetfulness. Other conditions that often occur in people with DID include PTSD, personality disorders (especially borderline and avoidant), depression, substance use disorders, conversion disorder, somatic symptom disorder, eating disorders, obsessive–compulsive disorder, and sleep disorders.

I lived with Will. I saw many of the things he tried to hide from the world. I can tell you that he experienced elements from every single secondary disorder I just listed. As things degraded with his recovery, he had these fugue state disassociations of various types where I did not recognize him, he would not listen or respond like himself, he acted in truly bizarre and scary ways. Later, he wouldn’t remember it, or he would only remembered scattered bits. He hated this, it scared him, but he was set on tackling it.

I want you to think seriously about if you had all these horrific problems plaguing you day and night, never leaving you alone. I want you to exercise that empathy muscle and understand that Will was brave. And strong. So strong. Enduring more than most knew. I cannot imagine. I am proud of him for trying again and again and again.

These are recovery chips from Will’s journey. There’s about sixty here, and I know I’m going to find more as I keep going through his things. They mark every time he began, every milestone he achieved, and every time he restarted yet again. This is not failure. This is picking back up and giving it another try. That takes a metric ton of grit, and humility, and willingness, not to mention setting the ego aside, which is one of the most difficult things a human can do. I come from a background of learned helplessness, extreme anxiety, and all-or-nothing thinking. My ingrained first instinct is to give up and run away. I admire the dogged courage Will had. I hope to embody it.

He wanted to change. For his kids, for his marriage to me, and this was new in 2021: for himself. Really and truly this time. I saw it. I felt the shift beginning to happen, even in the madness of the chaos and his intensifying cravings. He was really beginning to tiptoe into valuing himself. Into being his own friend. Into digging deep and finding his truest self and claiming his power by healing his past. But the call of addiction and the situation he’d put himself into was dire. And he couldn’t stop himself from turning to what I guess was the only thing that could gave him some momentary feeling of peace in his chaos.

Drugs and substance and addiction of any kind will never bring anyone truepeace. Look at where we are today. This is our worst nightmare. If you’re in recovery or need to be, I charge you today to stop avoiding recovery and thinking you’ve got this. That’s what Will said and thought when he was in his unwise mind.

After moving back into our home at the end of August, Will came to me in late September and told me he’d relapsed again. I was equally impressed at his honesty and gutted to hear this. I wanted to see him okay, and happy, no matter what. We mutually determined over the next few days that we needed to heal individually.

We separated a few days before his passing. The last time I saw him, we communicated that we loved each other even though we were both so sad and unsure. He told me he was going to get better, he was going to make his kids proud, he was going to love me the rest of his life even if I decided to leave. I had never decided that, I only needed him to get away from me and stop subjecting me to hell, so that we could both heal. In our living room, he grabbed my face real tight and kissed me hard and strong, like he was gathering bravery. I hugged him. I told him to please be safe. I watched him walk off the porch into the night. And that’s the last time I saw him.

Our last messages to each other, Wednesday evening the day before he passed, said ‘I love you’ and ‘I love you too.’

Thursday, the day he died, I sent him a quote I know now I sent a few hours after his death. The quote said, “Before you pass judgment on someone who’s self-destructing, it’s important to remember that they usually aren’t trying to destroy themselves—they’re trying to destroy something inside of them that doesn’t belong.”

Will was so, so wonderful. And he also put some of us through absolutely indescribable hell.There is so much duality to this situation. I hate this disease.

Will died of an accidental overdose out in public. Two and a half miles from our house. I don’t see a reason to conceal the truth about his manner of death. Secrecy keeps us sick. And I want us well. No one should have to go through what I’m going through. What Will went through. What the family is going through. What his beautiful kids are now facing for the rest of their lives. This changes the rest of our lives forever. I weep for Will daily. He should still be alive. He was so close to true change. I want him back! I know I’m not the only one.

You may feel all kinds of ways right now. Angry, betrayed, shocked, broken, defeated, lost, confused, enraged, depressed, numb, in denial just to name a few. I urge that you choose here with me today, to proceed into the future with your healing held as a firm intention in your mind. It would be so easy to spiral. To get and then stay depressed. To give up, to decide healing is too hard. To let this deteriorate you inside. Will does not want that for you. Or for me. Think about him for a second.

He loved seeing people laughing, and smiling, and having a good time. He loved seeing people recover and transform and win. He understands that you need to process, and feel your feelings, and cry and scream and miss him and whatever else your grief dictates. He welcomes that. But he asks that when we’re ready, we carry on his work, his message, and his legacy. We have to heal so that we can laugh for him. Marvel for him. Discover for him. Love for him. And exist with forgiveness in our hearts. Will—I forgive you! I said these words to him this year. And he cried. Released from some invisible prison he’d put himself in. And I meant it. I still do.

My friend Minna told me something really beautiful I’d like to share. She said, “River, promise me you’ll remember the ending chapter of Will’s life is not the entire book.” And I stand in that. I hope you will too.

I will remember all our times, but especially the good ones, because there truly were so many. We just really had the best time together. There are wonderful memories to go back to. The incredible road trip we took in California. We stayed at this unreal place on a mountaintop in the Carmel forest. We drove with the top down off the Jeep and stood on the cliffs of the Big Sur coast. It was magical. We went to one of my favorite places on earth, Point Reyes National Seashore. The Chimney Rock hike, which is this tall, secluded peninsula that stretches out into the crystal blue pacific. Crows cry and sea lions belch grunts from the shores visible far below the cliffs on either side. The day we went was foggy and mystical. If you ever visit this place, think of us when you go. I felt so close to Will there.

Another adventure we went on was to Las Vegas, where we took another amazing road trip from after spending some time on the strip. We saw Red Rock Canyon and Hoover Dam and Lake Mead and Antelope Canyon and Horseshoe Bend and Sunset Crater Volcano and Bell Rock and The Grand Canyon. Do you want to know what this man said as we stood at the North rim for the first time? “I thought it’d be bigger!” He took that comment back the next day when we took an unforgettable helicopter ride over the canyon.

We took the kids on adventures too, but often separate because our work schedules were always so intense and all over the place. I took the kiddos to Panama City Beach for a fun little getaway. On a tour of the best playgrounds in Atlanta. We got to all go to the Walking Dead set in Senoia and Will and I watched the kids try on zombie masks and squeal delighted horror at all the disgusting, lifelike props in the prop house.

I wish we could make more memories. And you know what? I think we will. Because Will is here, in my heart. He’s part of me. I have our wedding date tattooed on my body. It’s staying put. Because so is he.

In his vows to me on that day we married, one line stands out to me now more than ever: “River, you have my life now. You have my spirit. You have my heartbeats, all of them. Forever.” I’m lingering on where he told me I have his spirit. I feel it. He’s giving me strength. I’ll take good care of him. Like I always did.

One of Will’s most deeply held life purposes was Carrying the Message of recovery. His life and his death will continue to Carry the Message. And so will I, in his name. I will speak his truth, I will carry him gently, and I will be here for any of you for the rest of my life, to talk to you about Will, gladly. Whether you want to cuss him out, or cry for him. I understand both, and I’m with you. You can count on that. None of us have to face this alone. Speak to me about Will without worries about upsetting me or making me sad. I am not afraid of my emotions, or of yours. You can talk to me any time. And I hope you will.

Will inspired me. He believed in me. He believed in so many of us. So here is my promise today: I will go on. I will be his champion. I will speak his name, and carry his message, and love him until the day I die too. I will maintain my recovery, I will help others in theirs. For him. For me too. It won’t be easy. I hope you’ll join me in the very brave work ahead we all must do. Hold this in your mind: Love does not end. It goes on. It expands, and takes new forms, it evolves. Love survives.

I have a few things to ask you to do to honor Will.

One. Work on and maintain your recovery. Whatever that means to you, don’t get complacent. Please don’t do what Will did and isolate out of the belief that no one wants you around. We want you here! We want your healing! You are worthy!

Two. Following off number one, if you’re not in recovery and know that you want to be, please reach out and I’m more than happy to share my story of recovery, and help you find resources. Please believe me when I’m telling you the following things saved my life and changed who I am as a person: working the steps of Codependent’s Anonymous, doing therapy when I could afford it, and taking myself through CBT and reparenting therapy — which I mostly did on my own by the way because I was so broke. Healing is possible. Change is possible. And it always starts with you.

Three. If you’re in the film industry and you believe the working conditions or provisions around mental health need to change, contact me. We have work to do.

Four. Welcome the playful side of yourself into the room more often. Your humble side. Know it’s okay to laugh, even when you’re sad.

Five. Will would love it if you’d eat more plant-based meals in his honor, or even consider going vegan. He’d really get a kick out of that.

Six. Tell your people you love them. Even when you are angry and hurt. You never know when it’s the last time you’ll see someone.

Will loved you all, in small or large part. He wanted and wants your peace. He wants your healing. He wants you all to learn to be a friend to yourself. To practice self-compassion. To be gentle with yourself, especially right now.

Hold these final words in your heart. Know that this is what Will wants for us.

May You be filled with lovingkindness.

May You be well.

May You be peaceful and at ease.

May You be joyful.

May You be appreciative and thankful.

May You be in your body filled with truth.

May You be safe and sustained.

May You be blessed.

May You see the sun shine again.

God—
Grant us the ability to accept the things we cannot change.
The courage to change the things we can.
And the wisdom to know the difference.

May you rest peacefully, my sweet boy and beautiful man. I’ll miss and mourn you forever. Watch over me and guide me, as I learn to move with your unfathomable loss. I will make you proud. You made me proud, too.