Blog Post

Grief is






Grief Is 

(by Dale Miller) * I changed his use of “her’s” to “him’s” in the poem (he is a young male widow who lost his female spouse) – I did this so it would be more symbolic of the loss of well, my everything. Without Jacob, I am no one. A body without a soul. A zombie in a haze with constant command thoughts circling in my brain of “just end this misery already”. My dear dear friend Élise who I love deeply sent me this poem. I have never found words so relatable in my grief. There is no “time heals all wounds” bullshit in this poem. There is no happy ending or moving on like all the grief books emphasize. This poem is real – it is “The Real McCoy” as Jacob would say. This is my suffering. This is the suffering I feel every moment. This is the pain Élise feels with every breath. And I want you to read this and try to understand how torturous it is to lose everything. Your spouse, your best friend, your soulmate (since 7th grade!), your future, your children. All gone. And on May 4th, 2019 I will be turning 27. Jesus Christ. That is the age Jacob died – and I have been bedridden hiding from the world (literally frozen, psychotic, and crumbling in sadness) for the past 19 months. My birthday will be exactly 20 months since Jacob was taken from the world. My birthday, a day Jacob made so special, is forever magnified in horror. Jacob would call it a “birth month” instead of “birthday”. He would surprise me with something special almost every day of the month.  The little things he did were so full of love and devotion. I remember his touch on my skin and the hours of cuddling. One birthday while Jacob and I were home from school at my parent’s house- Jacob said to my mom “Thank you so much, Mrs. Griffith” and my mom responded, “For what, Jakey?” “For giving birth to my Kaitlin. May 4th is the best day of the year.” Then he gave me a giant hug from behind and said: “I love you so much baby girl.” This day with so many beautiful memories will forever be a mark of his death. 


Grief is

Feeling great joy and unbelievable sadness

In the same moment

Grief is

Feeling like you’re breaking apart

But knowing you can’t – you’re already broken

Grief is

Realizing you don’t go to hell from here

You’re already there

Grief is

Waking in the morning

And crying because you did

Grief is

Fake plastic smiles and sad puffy eyes

Grief is

Hiding yourself away

So no-one else need suffer

Grief is

Going through the motions

And not knowing why

Grief is

Not knowing how to explain


Grief is

Listening to people say they understand

But knowing they don’t

Grief is

Feeling absolutely alone

And smaller than small

Grief is

A hole inside that no one can see

Exactly the shape of him

Grief is

Never ending

Grief is

Not wanting to eat, sleep, work, dream, or face today

Grief is

Feeling like you’re going insane

And realizing you already did that last week and the week before, and the week before that

Grief is

The worst feeling ever

Sadness far beyond sad

Grief is

Visiting a grave to try to feel better

Trudging through knee-deep snow to clean off a headstone and have a talk

Grief is

Trying to figure out

Why you’re still here

Doing everything you can think of

So you’ll finally be allowed to be with him

Grief is

Getting it out

Only for it to fill back up

And doing it over and over and over

Grief is

Dreading the holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and tomorrow

Grief is

Friends leaving your life

And you not knowing why

You ought to see them run

Grief is

Feeling guilty for things you didn’t do

Wrongs you didn’t commit

And for not being able to save him.

Grief is

Counselors and medications

That don’t really help

Grief is

Anything but peaceful

Grief is

Learning to drive

And cry at the same time

Grief is

Being told to get over it

Or suck it up, buttercup

Grief is

Shaking uncontrollably

For no apparent reason

Grief is

Not being able to enter a room

Our bedroom

Grief is

The willingness to do absolutely anything

To try to feel better

Grief is

Being kicked while you’re down

People can be so cruel

Grief is

Being taking advantaged of

Grief is

Having to hang up the phone

Because you’re crying too hard to be understood

Grief is

Writing stupid poems

That no one will ever read

Grief is


Both painful and good

Grief is

Packing up his belongings

To send them to the vultures that are circling

Grief is

Laying out his coat on a table

And watching as the cat’s fight over who gets to lay on it, it still smelled like him.

Grief is

Being angry at God

Grief is

Picking up the pieces of your life

Just to put them down again

Grief is

Trying to figure out

What grief is

Grief is

Trying to learn about grief

From people who have never felt it

Grief is

Crying in your sleep

Grief is

Hurting this bad

And still being alive

Grief is

Having to explain to someone

Who hadn’t heard he was gone

Grief is

Being told to remember the good times

And knowing those are the memories that hurt the worst

Grief is

Crying so hard

You throw up

Grief is

Having to fight with family members

For his last wishes to be kept

Grief is

Finding a trinket that once made him smile

Grief is

Feeling like you did a week after he passed

Four years later

Grief is

Love doesn’t die

Just because he did.

Blog Post

Children everywhere


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Jacob at one of our favorite breakfast spots in Tallahassee “Bread and Roses Cafe” he would always order the Blue Plate – two eggs, two pieces of toast with local jam, garlic kale, veggie sausage and a biscuit for 7 dollars even.

*when I say “people” or “no one” I am excluding (obviously) my dear dear two widow friends, mom and dad, mother-in-law and sister-in-law, they know this but to make extra clear*

Rabbi Steve Leder once spoke about a lecture he heard by the youngest child to survive Auschwitz. He said there were no children in Auschwitz (he was six then), you became an adult as soon as you walked through the electrified barbed-wire fence. There were no children in Auschwitz.

He went on to say that one does not become a grown-up until they have suffered excruciatingly deep and horrible pain. This means that some children can become adults at 8 or 25 (like myself) or you could have adults that remain children well into their sixties – maybe their parents die, their own body fails in some critical way, or their child – the light of their eyes succumbs to disease or death, or their life crumbles down in some other way… but they are still a child until this deep suffering occurs.  THIS IS HAPPENING EVERYWHERE TO ME. All I see are children walking around in their 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s. And of course everyone my fucking age is a child. A bunch of ignorant assholes. With no empathy – no idea of the suffering anyone is going through. No insight that the world will bring everyone to their knees – even a young six-year-old even a young 25-year-old widow. Soon to be 27… the age Jacob was when he left this world and our future was destroyed. People are cruel, man. I haven’t left my bed in ages and I went to ONE yoga class to see if it would be a nice distraction of the misery of my life. I went with my mom, and we were casually talking before class (like everyone else – and not loud) and this woman who looked to be around 70 or so looked to me right in the eyes and said: “why don’t you just shut the fuck up.” Yes, this really happened. Then we left. I don’t even want to go into what an evil bitch she is – it just demonstrates how the world is filled with children – I am surrounded by them (especially in my age group.) Well – will be surrounded by them when I go back to school – and it will be unbearable. I just chucked to myself because currently I am really surrounded by no one but me and Jacob’s cat, but in a months time, I will be thrown into the real world after almost two years in hiding.

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Dad, Jacob, and mom 2011

How can I give a shit about a coconut milk cold brew and a lavender scone when THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS FUCKING GONE? Just predicting my future grad student cohort’s vapid interests and knowing my millennial generation’s obsession with the chewed up bowl – the empty – the smoke and mirrors – you know, nothing real. The record player because it looks cool – the cassette box because it looks cool – needs approval to like movies rather than form their own fucking opinion – refusing to watch Woody Allen or Alfred Hitchcock because of their personal lives WHO GIVES A SHIT? LOOK AT THEIR ART YOU WANNA BE INTERSECTIONAL FEMINISTIC INTELLECTUAL. Or whatever new word you want to call whatever you all are. EVEN ONE OF HITCHCOCK’S sexual victims said everyone should watch his films and that he was a genius, just a sick man. Ugh. Form your own goddamn opinion. Nothing authentic anymore. Nothing genuine. The last human on earth so fucking authentic and genuine it was holy was Jacob. And people that never knew Jacob? Robbed of blinding light. There are people now that will never know “Jacob and Kaitlin” like my dad said once- it was always “Coo and Jacob” (coo my nickname). People will now never know that. And that breaks my soul. This is why I have asked my two widow friends to send me some of their favorite photos of them with their spouse so I can hang them on my wall, so they will be remembered every day together – that is one of the greatest things someone could ever do for me, but not one person has asked for a photo of me and Jacob so we will always be remembered together. After I asked them for a photo, they both said they had the same thought recently and wanted to do the same thing: to have me and Jacob’s photos around. We always save each other’s photos and videos we send on our phones. But having a physical copy is special. We get it, but the rest of the world is just cruel and stupid. Yes – I am being lazy with my words today by saying “stupid” a lot.

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“Jacob and Kaitlin” written by my sister-in-law (sister) Barbara. One of the greatest things anyone has done for me since Jacob died. I love you, Barbara.

I have read the work of many rabbis in an effort to find some insight or wisdom into my suffering or make sense of this horrible existence that has been thrown my way. I am even meeting with a rabbi at Harvard for Shabbat dinner in May. One reason I am doing this is because of Jacob and how he embraced the Jewish culture and often looked to the writings of rabbis such as Abraham Twersky for spiritual guidance (this is one of Jacob’s favorite videos by Twersky). The second reason is out of sheer and utter desperation. There are only two young widows I know of that understand my pain – and some other widows don’t even get it because they either want to stay alive and get going with their lives or they just didn’t have as deep of a love as me and my other two widow friends. I have said this before, but it is such a chilling realization in the early hours of the morning as I have awoken from another horrible nightmare that leaves me exhausted – almost no one had a love like me and Jacob. No one. And it is gone forever. This reality makes me cry the whole cold night through and weep as the sun emerges. By the way, fuck you, sun.

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Christmas 2010 with our eldest niece Lily who is now in high school! We would always come down and do fun things with her – beach, ice cream, hikes, Jacob was THE BEST UNCLE. No bias. But in all seriousness – he was amazing with children. Best Uncle.

I haven’t posted in a while because March 4th was the one and a half year mark of Jacob’s death, I didn’t hear from anyone – no surprise, I barely heard from anyone on the one year mark. Not like I wanted to – I just wanted people to tell me they were thinking of Jacob. But, it is a hard thing to face when no one loves or knows Jacob more than me – just like no one knows or loved me more than Jacob (even my parents can testify to that). And I have this enormous love and personality and beautiful soul in my head all the time, but without him earthside. We didn’t want any friends, we didn’t need any friends… it was just us. Now – just me. And I stopped posting because my depression was getting out of hand and I was back to sleeping 18 hours a day. I am not much better but I can at least try to post a little more. My posts might get shorter and turn into small memories of Jacob or a “story from my ___ dad, mom, a street corner, etc.” type segment. Speaking of a story from my dad, he was just reminding me yesterday of when they (my mom and dad) came to visit us in 2013 or so and we were all hiking at Leon Sinks Geological Area, a place Jacob and I spent a lot of time in the winter. As we were walking there was a big sinkhole in the middle of the trail and a long log to cross it. Jacob and my dad said, “yeah… we are going to go walk around”. Smart move. I decided to cross the log and I told my mom to come with me – mind you she had her purse with her keys, wallet, phone, etc. in it. Well I made it over and held my hand to let her know it was okay and that I would help her but she kept looking down and down and boom. She fell right into the water. Huge splash and screaming. “I don’t want to get sucked in!!” Man did that make Jacob laugh later when I told him she was screaming that.  My dad said that as he was walking with Jacob from afar they heard a loud thump and a scream – they met us at the other side and my mom took her purse and flipped it upside down and tons of water came pouring out. Jacob went up and hugged my mom and said “poor cringes poor cringes” and shook her shoulder. She frowned and said, “jakessss I fell jakees”. She was a good sport about it and laughed. We all did. But I had forgotten that memory until my dad brought it up. We were talking about how many times they visited us over the years and different things we did and that memory got buried in my subconscious somehow.

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Me and Jacob at Joe Mama’s for his 23rd birthday


I am “lucky” that I have my parents and some of Jacob’s family who wants to talk about Jacob – one of my widow friends who has no real friends like me, has a family that doesn’t even mention her spouse’s name. WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE!!! I will say it again. STOP. STOP. STOP. YOU MORONS. Stop tip-toeing around their name and existence. Don’t avoid talking about our soulmates. ALL WE WANT TO DO IS TALK ABOUT THEM. IT WAS NOT A DIVORCE, IT WAS A TRAGEDY. WE ARE IN LOVE. WE WILL ALWAYS BE IN LOVE. GET TO KNOW JACOB. THE ADULT, TRUE, COMPLETELY INTIMATE JACOB. The one I only knew, just like he only knew me. I know my parents would want to know every memory Jacob had to share with them if I died.  The only two people who ask me questions like “what did you and Jacob like to cook together?” or “Did Jacob ever do this…” or “Tell me how Jacob changed from middle school to 27” or “What was your funniest moment?” “What was Jacob’s favorite vinyl or most played vinyl?” ” How did you know you liked each other in middle school?” “What was Jacob’s go-to first song he put on in the car?” “What book did Jacob read over and over?” “Who was Jacob’s favorite author?” etc. etc. The only people who ask these questions are my two young widow friends. No one else gives a shit. Or rather, it is kind of an inconvenience for them to give it the time of day. Another realization of almost 19 months now (jesus christ 19 months…) is that everyone is selfish. Me and Jacob have been robbed of our future, I have no home, I have boxes of our things collected from a decade of living together, I have no job,  I have no routine, and I am utterly lost without Jacob. He influenced everything about me since I was in 7th grade.  I AM DROWNING IN FLAMES. And people just want to continue their lives and give their shit advice in the comfort of the nice home they share with their spouse and children. Well, guess what? That was our plan and why do you get it? Why do these people around me who have been together for barely 2 years (even 5 years is honestly laughable given how long Jacob and I have been together) why do they get it all? They aren’t soulmates like me and Jacob. There love isn’t unconditional. Jacob would try to hang out with someone (like I said he had many man crushes, everyone wanted to be his friend) and he would text me an hour in and say “I am making up an excuse and coming home! I love my coos and I want cuddle times! Pick out a movie cutie!” We literally couldn’t be apart. Now his physical touch and his warm body are missing from my arms and my bed… I am in my childhood bedroom we stayed in so many times while visiting my parents. I cry out for him in my sleep. I haven’t lived anywhere without Jacob since I was 18 years old…

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One of Jacob’s favorite Bukowski poems, we had it in a frame on the wall at almost every house we lived in.


Back on track to the rabbi books I have been attempting to save myself with. My mother-in-law gave me one of them, thank you because I know you are reading*! Love you! Anyway, one of the lines I keep seeing some form of or iteration of is something like this – “Nothing would ever be worth your suffering but neither would your suffering be worthless.” I just cannot swallow this. I am sick of all the “you get wiser and learn from your suffering”. Um, no thank you. I would rather be more stupid, please and have Jacob. Of course, to be human is to suffer, and I have always realized even as a young child that pain is a great teacher. However, the loss, PTSD, depression, endless torture, debilitating grief and the trauma I am enduring daily does not match up to anything I am reading or seeing. Except for art, and especially music – the thing me and Jacob shared together perfectly in our souls. But I am too far gone. In the deep end. I am colorblind in a world that once was filled with color. I am too far gone. One of the few songs that perfectly describes my pain (almost) is “If I could only Fly” by Blaze Foley. “If I could only fly, If I could only fly – I’d bid this place goodbye to come and be with you”. A song of grief and loss and you can listen to it here… I cry and cry. But it is the only thing that I hear that matches my pain.

So, let’s see.. a lot of changes coming up that I don’t feel like talking about because I have been frozen in time for 19 months and want to remain frozen. I am forever in 2017. So, I would rather not think or talk about them. But, basically, as I struggle to stay alive – I also must speak intimately to Jacob in my personal journal and voice recorder. And that comes before this blog. But my goal, as you all know, is to share Jacob with everyone which I plan to continue doing as much as I can until … well. I don’t know how to finish that sentence so how about we leave it as “just until…”

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Me and Jacob napping at his dad’s house summer 2012


Blog Post


I am sorry that I have missed my Monday posts this month of January. As you can imagine, I have been in a ginormous state of depression (even more than usual) since the holidays. Then, I visited one of me and Jacob’s mutual friends in Chicago. Now, this upcoming week I am going back to Cambridge (a very triggering city because that was the last place Jacob and I ever lived together and the last place he was alive- but I have to take care of some Harvard related business). Then, I head to Montréal, a city I have already talked about being very important to Jacob in a previous blog post, I am visiting my fellow widow friend Élise, who I described in the same blog post. So my posts will be sporadic most of January and February. I will be back on track by March.

Me and Jacob at Cassariano Italian Eatery before we headed to Washington – early September 2015


Anyway, I visited a close friend of me and Jacob’s in Chicago who we have both known for a decade. Traveling is so difficult but I knew I was going into a safe place. First off – we don’t make plans, he knew I would need a place to cry and tell as many stories as possible – he has so many qualities that are an extension of Jacob’s soul – he is a writer, loves cinema, knows the name’s of every actor like Jacob did, makes films like Jacob, has introspection about “what is the meaning of life?”, and the list goes on and on. One of the most beautiful moments was when he started crying and said “what you and Jacob had was so beautiful I wish I had that so badly. Just for a day.” I held his hand, but every time people tell me something like this I want to say “well, why was it taken from us? We were perfect together. Beyond perfect– we should have been married at a courthouse and had a small ceremony at my parent’s house with native flowers and twinkle lights like we discussed many times over. We should have had our four children – Eli, Ira, Heidi, and Luna. WHY WAS IT TAKEN? And why do all these assholes from high school and college marry total douche bags and get to have these things? UGH! Anyway…

One expression I am getting really annoyed at lately is something of the like – “I think that would be a good change of scenery for you” or “getting out would be good for you.” or “I am so glad you are taking this trip” (do NOT say vacation – none of this is a fucking vacation people). A change of scenery amplifies my grief – Jacob’s eyes cannot see these things. So when I go someplace, it is not only a gigantic step emotionally but it is not anything “fun” or “happy”. It is a goddamn chore to put it lightly. Grief follows you everywhere so it doesn’t matter where I go. I am not suddenly going to forget about Jacob and our beautiful life when I leave my bed. Nor would I ever want to, like I said many times, he is all I think about and all I want to talk about – always and forever. The last poem he wrote to me is tattooed on my arm for God’s sake. People are so weird (again, to put it lightly) in grief – you realize your friends don’t really care and isolation is so common for us. Luckily by removing toxic “friends” from my life, it has opened the door for new positive relationships, such as the fellow widows that have come into my life. Something else I have noticed, especially while in Chicago, is that being out in the world makes me realize how much I miss Jacob even more. TALK ABOUT SHITTY PEOPLE! Literally, when it was just me and Jacob- we could laugh at the idiots of the world, like Notes from the Underground. But now, I am left here. Floating around all these annoying, grotesque people with nothing original to say and nothing of substance. Ugh. And no sense of humor! They all take themselves way too seriously and don’t realize the importance of the present moment. Everyone just sucks. No one is Jacob. No one will ever be Jacob. That realization is fucking brutal. My grief goes from 0 to 100 in seconds in the form of sobbing, anger, and inability to move or speak. This is why I feel I can never live with the real world again. I don’t even recognize myself. Jacob wouldn’t recognize me…but I know he would understand.

Happy 26th Birthday Jacob! June 27, 2016

I do things for Jacob like usual all the time. I was at a thrift shop and I bought Jacob three little toys I knew he would like. I had to. I just, I had to. I always did that, and I had to do it. I cried as soon as I left because I wanted him to be there with me, I wanted his voice, I wanted his touch. I heard him saying “Baby coos, I love these – I want them on my writing desk. These are perfect.” Being out in the real world is fucking tough and often, “a change of scenery” can do more harm than good (depending on where you are in your grief). UGH. How is life still moving?

Jacob LOVED David Lynch and especially Twin Peaks – we were able to go see where the series was shot while we lived in Olympia, WA. You might recognize this waterfall from the opening credits.

So here is my advice to you – and I feel I am the last one to give anyone advice- let your grief lead you where it may. Don’t listen to people’s opinions on what you should do or how you should do it. You are a young widow – barely anyone can relate – so try your best to ignore those comments and when you can’t? Write to your loved one. I write to Jacob all the time. I talk to him all the time – because that was my life for so many years. Talking in person, on the phone, in bed, in the morning. ALL THE TIME. I cry to Jacob and hear his voice in my head every single day- especially when people say insensitive things to me. Because I know he would be so angry that anyone would be causing me any more pain. This is what you have to trust in – they love you more than anything, they are always on your side – just like in life – whether you believe in an afterlife or not – they are on your side. They love you. I remember Jacob once said to me, in tears, “I would die for you Kaitlin. If I pushed you out of the way of a truck and I died, I feel like my life on this earth would be so full of purpose. I truly believe that.” That memory makes me sob uncontrollably – every memory makes me cry – but he was so genuine and sincere when he said that. That was the depth of our love. Because when he said that to me, I had felt that exact same way so many times for him – I just couldn’t express it as beautifully as he could. He was looking at me and holding my hand and telling me how much he loved me. That was and is how deep our love is. 

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Christmas 2015 in Olympic National Park
Blog Post

Our First Hike in Washington (and some stories of our life in Olympia)

End of September 2015, Jacob on the Pacific Crest Trail at Mt. Rainier National Park (the last day of the road being open). It was an amazing drive, but Jacob and I were both scared with all the ice and snow…total Floridians, you know? 

In September of 2015, Jacob and I embarked on a cross-country road trip from Florida to Washington State, we had just gotten out of college and I was offered a job as a biologist in Washington State – I talked it over with Jacob (as we always did with big decisions) and he told me that he wanted to live somewhere like Washington so badly – somewhere new and different. I remember he was the first one I called when I found out and he said: “Baby this is so exciting, I can’t wait- how awesome! You have to take this job! Ahhhhhhh! And you know what? I like the rain”. We both would soon realize that Washington state is pretty much horrible weather-wise except for two months out of the year. I remember after 3 months living in Olympia (the capital of Washington) I started to feel major seasonal depression. Anyway, when I think about the first time I told Jacob about the job offer, I close my eyes and It feels like it was yesterday – I remember where I was, at Archbold Biological Station, a short-term job, and he was spending most of his time at my parent’s house that summer of 2015. I visited every weekend and most weekdays. I couldn’t go a day without my Jacob! And since he had just finished college (he was only one semester behind me) that summer he was only an hour from me back in our hometown (of course not our real home, that is Tallahassee, don’t forget). I remember making a pros and cons list with Jacob and my mom and dad and after careful consideration, we decided – yes, let’s make our first move together as adults. Let me just say, the cross-country road trip deserves its own post – because that is filled with videos, pictures, and so many stories. So this post is very short today. Mostly short stories of me and Jacob in Washington. Outside our house in Olympia, on a clear day, you could see Mt. Rainier perfectly – such a monolith of a mountain standing at 14,411 feet – Jacob and I loved the hill on 5th street because the view of the Mt. Rainier on a clear day was spectacular. Olympia also had a ban on all chains – so everything was local. We both loved this. Jacob and I loved this food truck called Nineveh, a combination of Egyptian and Persian food and we seriously LOVED it. Total obsession. It was literally 2 minutes from our house. Jacob would say “Can we get Ninev’s tonight, please?” We had our own language called “yakescoo speak” where we shortened everything, I have a list on paper of all our shortened words and our special language. Anyway, I would always get the falafel, Jacob would always get the Shawarma – and we would also get the hand-cut fries (that were covered with amazing spices – some of the fries best we ever had) and fried cauliflower. I remember Jacob said once “I don’t know what they put in those fries, but they are dangerous. So fucking good”. Even the drive-through hamburger joints had names like “Tom’s Burger’s” – no McDonalds or Wendy’s. All local. Jacobs favorite part of it all? Four local bookstores in a small town like Olympia. His favorite bookstore was called Orca Books, again we lived downtown so we could walk to these places really easily. He loved this bookstore for many reasons, including that there were many cats in this bookstore and they loved to jump on Jacob’s lap and knead him.

I don’t have a photo of Jacob being kneaded by a cute little cat at Orca Books but Jacob took this photo of me – November 2015, I remember him saying “how can you have a bookstore and not have cats around? This place is perfect.” This cat’s name was Ken – which Jacob and I thought was odd. He didn’t feel like a Ken. 
Rainy Day Records, Olympia WA – one of Jacob’s favorite places and only 5 minutes from our house.

Another perk of living downtown was that there was a record store only five minutes from our house called Rainy Day Records  (Jacob loved this place)- and you could buy records, cassettes, and even rent movies. And when I talk in minutes I mean walking, not driving. Jacob and I would spend hours on our days off looking through vinyl together here. Jacob came home one day and said “Coo! You can rent movies there!!! How awesome is that?” It was great, we felt like we were living on another planet completely in Olympia. We also lived across the local library so we could get books and movies all the time, for free. Jacob had a true gift for finding the best movies instantly at libraries. He also found many “Coo movies” (his name for my kind of movies) – and he used to say, “Oh baby, this is such a Coo movie we have to watch it.” Not bad movies – just ones I hadn’t seen and he knew I would love – like Groundhog Day, for instance – or Plains, Trains, and Automobiles. We watched almost every Woody Allen film together and Mel Brooks films, and we would request them too. For example, “Love and Death” was the first Woody Allen film I ever watched, and Jacob and I saw it together at the FSU student life center – Jacob had already seen it and he said “I can’t believe this is the first Woody Allen movie you are going to watch, how awesome”. I loved it-and it will always be my favorite for that memory and that reason. Anyway, we were able to order it at both Rainy Day Records and the Library. It was great. I also just want to say that we both loved John Candy – especially when Jacob introduced me to SCTV (a much funnier version of SNL with John Candy and Eugene Levy just to name a few…)  (this was his favorite skit of all time) and he also introduced me to Cannibal: The Musical, one of the most hilarious movies I have ever seen and the creators of South Park made it. Jacob would always sing to me “Shpadoinkle Day“. I have a video of him singing this song regularly and in his opera voice and I watch these videos every single day. He would look at me in the eye especially with the line “As I ride with my girl, she’s my best friend in the whole world.” Even though in the movie the line is declared to a horse, Jacob always made that line about me and would look me in the eye and kiss me gently while he sang it.

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Olympia Coffee Roasters – we are drinking coffee and local ice cream mixed together, that is Jacob’s hand and our two straws – he loved it. 
Jacob surprised me with Olympia Coffee all the time. It was adorable and just one of the ways he always showed his love for me. 

Anyone that knows Jacob knows he hates coffee – but, he loved the coffee at Olympia Coffee Roasters– I remember one time he said: “baby, that is the best coffee I have ever had and you know I HATE coffee – truly next level. I would drink this every day.” We also had a tradition (so many, I know) of going to Darby’s Cafe for breakfast – they had this AMAZING breakfast item: yogurt, strawberries, blueberries, and granola rolled into a tortilla and deep fried covered in whipped cream and more fruit. Out of this world. But of course, Jacob always had the Corned Beef Hash. So cute. I could talk about our life in Olympia for days, for instance – a little corner store called “The Little General Food Shop” was literally around the block from our house and sold household essentials and very progressive food products (Oregon ice cream Jacob loved and I would surprise him with).

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Local cookie mixture to help me make chocolate and peppermint cookies that Jacob loved. December 2015. Thank you little general food shop!
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The actual little general food shop with the cutest paintings behind the register – Jacob loved these paintings. Even though the store was a little expensive – it was so convenient we ended up going there for many things and we discovered our FAVORITE PEANUT BUTTER IN THE WHOLE WORLD – it is called Bliss Nut Butter (follow this link – I am telling you Jacob and I would just eat the whole jar with a spoon, no bread- nothing, it was that good). And my mom ended up shipping us a huge box of it to Tallahassee from Oregon when we moved back to Tallahassee. We were so happy. “Thank you Cringes” Jacob cried out. 


But I want to talk about our first hike to Mt. Rainier – which I have barely touched on- I just have so much to say I get disoriented and end up switching topics easily. We had been on other hikes in Olympia and in Thurston County, but nothing intense like Mt. Rainier. So, August and September are really the only months you can visit Washington because the rest of the time it is gray, rainy, and just… well, hazy and gray. But now, I am longing for the weather in Olympia. I wish I was there now. I hate the sunshine here in my parent’s house in Florida. The feeling of the sun makes me sick – that Jacob cannot feel it. I am crying as I type the words. Also, I cannot energetically align with the sun – It doesn’t fit my mood. I want rainy days and hazy weeks full of just…gray. Like in Olympia. So basically, I want Washington weather right now. Okay: onto our first hike. I am going to leave our first hike mainly in photos. It was a hard hike, no doubt, but it was uphill to see Mt. Rainier, and then downhill the entire time with the view of Mt. Rainier in front of us the whole way. We couldn’t figure out which was worse – uphill or downhill because downhill really fucks up your knees. Jacob voted that uphill was much worse. I told him I couldn’t decide, but my knees are really bad, so downhill was very hard for me. They both were super challenging – but the view was beyond amazing and our first true hike in Washington Jacob declared as truly magnificent. Even though his favorite hike in the whole world still resides in North Carolina, he absolutely loved the scenery and our first hike at Mt. Rainier (and we had many more there, our Thanksgiving hike in 2015 at Mt. Rainier we had snow chains on Jacob’s car and played in the snow up in the mountains). Also, there were moments during this hike where we were on the edge of the mountainside (actually, many times during this hike) and Jacob overcame some of his fear of heights. I was so proud of him. I always was.

On our way to Mt. Rainier, Jacob and I came across this old Post Office with a Coca-Cola sign that Jacob LOVED. So we had to document it.


We met a couple, very nice, who offered to take a picture of us. Jacob and I enthusiastically said yes because it was such a beautiful day and one of the last days we could hike here and we wanted to document it. 


Jacob in front of Mt. Rainier on our first hike – beautiful boy and a beautiful hike. I hid a Coca-Cola in my backpack and we sat on a stump and I surprised him with it, he was so excited to drink it. “You’re the best, Coo! This is exactly what I needed”.
Jacob took this picture, “Coo, we are on the Pacific Crest Trail- now we can say we have been on both the Appalachian Trail and the PCT!”
Jacob drinking his Coca-Cola and staring at Mt. Rainier. We also brought sandwiches and snacks with us – this was a hard hike for sure. We needed this break to take in the beauty and rest up for a few minutes.
Part of our drive on the way back the weather started to change, pretty eerie shot, huh? We thought it was very Washington… and it reminded us of a video game Jacob played in college. “Well…welcome to the Pacific Northwest, huh? ” Jacob said. 
Jacob by our very first fireplace after we came home, it was so cold! He loved starting up our fireplace… so cute. Everything he did was cute.
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I am ending this post with the last photo Jacob took that day – he saw the blue mountains go on and on and started to write in his notebook which he eventually lost… (not that day) but I hold this day close to my heart, and would give anything to be back in this moment again. Hand in hand. Kissing my Jacob and leaning against his shoulder telling him “I love you”.



Blog Post

Broken Heart Syndrome


Woodstock, Vermont “Town Crier” – the town was so small it still had a community board of local events. Jacob thought this was incredibly cool – we came on a day where this small community was having a parade – we went to the local library, bought local ice cream and walked around this little town. I remember Jacob saying “Baby, we have to check out more of Vermont.” Jacob wearing the Bob Dylan shirt my dad got him many years back.

Broken heart syndrome is a heart condition that’s brought on by highly traumatic situations, such as the sudden death of a loved one. People with broken heart syndrome may have sudden chest pain or think they’re having a heart attack. It is also known as “Takotsubo cardiomyopathy” in the medical world… blah blah blah. But the story is pretty interesting: The name “Takotsubo Syndrome” comes from the Japanese word Takotsubo which means “octopus trap,” because the left ventricle of your heart takes on a shape resembling a fishing pot. (It is real, people!) This cardiomyopathy is now a well-recognized in the medical community as an actual cause of acute heart failure, lethal ventricular arrhythmias, and ventricular rupture. Yeah, those words mean nothing to me either. Google them if you are interested, I guessMy biology major was very anti-pre med (the pre-med students had HUGE ego’s where Jacob and I went to undergrad), and especially now, after experiencing the coldness from the night Jacob was taken from me, and the trauma, I really have no desire to even hear medical terms- as I have mentioned in previous posts- when I see an ambulance I have to pull over and try to contain my vivid flashbacks, when I pass a hospital I have to pretend it doesn’t exist. But, I do not want to talk about this. I bring this broken heart syndrome up because there seems to be a common thread among a lot of widows. Because many people think those in debilitating grief look “perfectly fine” on the outside, they reject our grief or think “we are getting better and moving on” all the while our insides are filled with massive holes, crippling pain, and despair that goes unrecognized and dismissed because it is not seen physically. I will take physical pain over this emotional agony any day. And the word “emotional agony” doesn’t even come close to describing how I feel inside.


My Dad and Jacob at “The Friendly Toast” for breakfast shortly after we moved to Cambridge, MA – May 1, 2017. This was near MIT – it was freezing outside and Jacob had flip flops on so my dad gave him a pair of tennis shoes and socks to borrow (the shoes were much too small for Jacob – but he was desperate, his feet were so cold). We walked for almost a mile to find this place (GPS malfunction). Jacob LOVED it- the decor had old school signs from the 50s, pop culture trinkets from the 60s-90s, and little details only a highly observant writer like Jacob could recognize. He had Corned Beef Hash, like usual, and he always tried it at every breakfast place we went to since 2010 but especially in Cambridge – “Baby, I am the only person besides 90-year-olds that ever even order this.” *This story reminds me of ANOTHER time with my parents in Cambridge (a sketchy restaurant that had good reviews, though) where Jacob found like rat hair in his Corned Beef Hash* So gross. We got out of there so quickly. They gave Jacob a $25.00 gift certificate, which I still have. My mom wanted to get it framed…

Here is something else about the physical recognition that widows get (and it is again, very common – my dear widow friend Élise told me people have said this to her and continue to say this to her all the time) and, unfortunately, I have heard it as well. Many have, and I am getting this out right now in defense of widows everywhere. The grief diet we have and how people say the most stupid shit imaginable. Here is how the conversation goes down (or something of the like). “Wow! You look great! You’ve lost so much weight. Did you start running or something?” “No, my partner died.” “Well, whatever you’ve been doing, keep it up! You look amazing.” Are you fucking kidding me? I look good? First off, do you think I GIVE A SHIT about how I look when I have lost everything? My spouse, our apartment, our children, our entire future together- do you think this weight loss is healthy? Do you think this is wanted? HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE? Jesus. People think you want to hear this kind of garbage but no, they need to think again. It adds more salt to the wounds. My nutrients come from bread and butter. And that is starting to wane quickly into no appetite for anything – not even bread.  Yeah, yeah – it isn’t healthy – BUT I HAVE NO CHOICE. It isn’t a choice. My therapist explained it pretty well – she said “we as humans have an animalistic instinct to nourish ourselves with food, water, etc. in typical, normal healthy conditions – but you do not want to live, therefore your body is completely shutting down, lack of any appetite is part of the last phase, it is unnatural because what you are going through is the most unnatural thing in the world. Your depression is killing you, mentally and physically”. People just do not get it – when you are in horrible grief and deep depression you do not want to eat anything. You shut down. And you know what? I know in my heart not only does Jacob understand this but that he would react in a similar way if the situation was reversed. I wish for that every day- “why was he taken? why didn’t you take me? He was such a gift and light to the world – why didn’t you take me?” People tend to make comments of what made Jacob and I happy (I’m sorry, but I know that best) but anyway, the point is- he/we liked to do these activities…when we were both alive and together. Yes, we enjoyed cooking and taking walks in the forest – WHEN WE WERE BOTH ALIVE AND LIVING TOGETHER. Yes, we loved trying and enjoying new food and spending time with children and watching movies and taking showers/bubble baths together and new adventures and drinking hot chocolate and celebrating the holidays and feeling the cool breeze on our faces – WHEN WE WERE BOTH ALIVE AND LIVING TOGETHER. I mean, what do you not understand about this? It is so easy for people to just word vomit stupid shit and offer platitudes in their comfortable houses with their family and spouses right by their side. Or even friends by their side, for that matter. I will say it in every post – Jacob has been my one and only since as long as I can remember. He was my best friend. My only roommate – ever – since 18. My entire world. He was, was going to be, and is my all and everything. When you talk about having children together from such a young age – when you set a wedding date – when you build a future together from such a young age (middle school, cough, cough) and when it is all taken from you in the blink of an eye, yeah – your “you look great!” comments make me want to vomit. Do not mention my weight, that my skin looks good, my outfit is nice (I am literally picking from a pile and throwing on whatever smells clean when I have to leave the house for a doctor’s appointment) or my hair. Which, by the way, not only goes unwashed for weeks and weeks but now I just wash it under the sink – the whole getting into the shower, getting wet and changing clothes is too much of a chore. I’m tired of all this sugar coating nonsense – THIS IS WHAT GRIEF LOOKS LIKE. I am sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable – try living it.

Fall 2011 – at my parent’s hotel in downtown Tallahassee before an FSU game (Jacob did not like Football AT ALL and either did I, but we always went when my parents came up and bought us all tickets, 3-4 times every Fall). But this photo shows what I miss so much – these hugs from the back I would get every day and kisses from behind. Jacob would say “Coo, you are the perfect height and size for me because I can wrap my arms around you from behind!”


I just feel like only other widows understand this kind of grief… and even though no one can fully understand (even other widows) the depths – I mean deep deep depths of our love – they can relate on a level no one else can. I went from having 0 widows in my life to 3 that check in on me regularly… I will take that. They let me cry, tell my story, and can relate to the endless horror and misery. I hear their stories. And even though they are far away… I feel that maybe it is a reason to turn on my phone, and hear a voice that doesn’t judge, project, add stress, give me “wisdom”, cruelty or tell me what to do – but they know all the right things to say.


You know what box sitting in my childhood home (where I am currently living and all of our possessions are) makes me most sad? Well, one of the boxes that makes me most sad. Our kitchen boxes. All of our kitchen supplies have been with us since 2010 – the records and books have too, so those boxes make me beyond sad – but the kitchen boxes bring memories of how we would cook together, how Jacob would surprise me with meals so often (even vegan meals, I wasn’t vegan, but he would research because he was so curious like that) and our little plates and mugs we would find at thrift stores. One mug in particular I know I will break down when I eventually see it. All the knitted mason jar covers I would make for him. Our re-usable metal straws. The hanging fruit basket he bought us. The silly aprons he bought me. Our vintage goodwill soup bowls we loved. These are things we have had for so long…even the kitchen towels with botanical plants on them and Simpon’s characters. It just makes me want to crawl into a hole.

Jacob at one of our favorite beaches in the Panhandle on the Forgotten Coast… undeveloped coastline for miles and miles – again, this land was our home- Jacob said it himself “The only place I would ever live in Florida would be Tallahassee”, and I completely agreed – and the houses we loved to drive by and look at as we got closer to St. George Island (his favorite beach of all time) are now completely destroyed by the hurricane, and the forests we stopped and admired are gone…Jacob’s favorite spot to go look at Pitcher Plants and rare Florida sunflowers. All gone. It makes me sick – it would make Jacob so sad to see our home, our city, and our favorite wild lands destroyed. But this photo was taken at our secret spot and secret beach we went to in the winter… no one was ever around or near…except a local rural pottery artist Jacob and I also loved visiting. Of course, he had Jacob’s number and called him once a week to talk to him. January 2017.

Currently, well for a while now, I am reading Jacob’s favorite books and they bring me some comfort. Movies are off-limits right now because he introduced me to all of it – Mel Brooks, Woody Allen, Charlie Kaufman, Wes Anderson (in 7th grade mind you – so, 2004 for me, 2003 for him) – it just is way too much to watch any movie – and new movies his eyes cannot see and I know he would love (like The Meyerowitz Stories and the second season of Stranger Things, both on Netflix) make me sick… because he talked about watching them together. He read about them coming out. I cannot even log into our shared Netflix account (Yakescoo). It is one of the biggest triggers I have because it was a huge part of our lives and it completely influenced and shaped me and this shaping was done all by Jacob. The last movie we ever saw together in theatres was “Baby Driver” which he loved, as did I, and it was August 4, 2017 – exactly one month before he died. I remember our walk home that night was beautiful. We held hands the whole way home and with the colder weather, we could tell Fall was coming. He kept his ticket stub from that night in his wallet. Jacob was like that, he kept all the movie ticket stubs he went to with me in his wallet or in his “blue area” as we called it – a blue colored box with tons of papers and cards shoved inside. I remember on our walk home we passed a garden level basement, that of course, Jacob pointed out because he was so observant, that had lights flickering and a broken window and Jacob said “Kaitlin, look at this-this is the stuff of nightmares right here.” He looked around, could tell I was scared and was like “Yeah, we need to go. Fuck this”  I feel like that walk was yesterday.

Jacob with Llamas outside of Cairo, Georgia at an Art Festival – October 2016

Listening to our favorite records is also so hard – but necessary sometimes because it was what we did all the time, every day – as soon as we both got home, a record was put on and we would decide together. Just one of our many daily rituals. But certain things I can listen to and others I cannot. We couldn’t back out of the driveway without music decided upon. If I was driving, “Jacob you are the DJ” or if he was driving, “Coo you gotta be the DJ for us”. If I found out about a new artist (usually from the past) or he did – everything stopped. We listened together. Or if I would find out about a new modern artist that he would end up loving like M. Ward he would say “Coo, you can’t hide this stuff from me!” He loved M. Ward and one song, in particular, he would play for me so often, was  Eyes on the Prize. That song is incredibly hard to type let alone listen to – he not only played it for me but he would sing it into my ear as he kissed my neck. The lyrics for him were so important. “Wow, what a great line” he would say in the car. He was always completely engaged. If you started to talk in the middle of one of his favorite songs, or any song he put on, he would pause it – listen to you and then restart the song. I picked up that habit too! “It is a good one to have”, we would say. We were constantly excited about discovering new music. For instance, when I first learned about Jimmie Rodgers, Jacob was obsessed. He read about him, listened to all of his music, and for 2-3 months had a complete fixation. “Classic Yakes!” I would say. Same with The Pet Sounds album by The Beach Boys, Blaze Foley, Buddy Holly, Leon Redbone (this was his favorite Redbone song), and Doc Watson. Just like Jacob showed me Robert Johnson, Leadbelly, Daniel Johnston, The Pixies, Blind Blake, Bob Dylan***, Leonard Cohen, and Hank Williams (well we both came to Hank Williams at the same time –  a story for another time). The list goes on and on… I came back from Rochester, New York (where my mother is from) in 2011 with what turned out to be Jacob’s favorite and most prized vinyl of all time – and again, that is a longer story for another day – but it is one of the rarest 1920s delta blues compilations in the world, you cannot find any of these songs online. If he read a poem that brought him to tears or really moved him it was “Coo, come in here quick! You have to read this.” If I read a short story I knew he would like, I would give it to him immediately. Such as, Truman Capote’s “A Christmas Memory” which turned into one of his favorite short stories of all time, and a tradition that we always read it together on Christmas… since like 2013? He would read me Stephen King short stories especially the magical realism ones which he loved most, and we would listen to David Sedaris stories while cuddling together. If one of us wanted to write or cover a song together, we would both play guitar and sing – or I would play the banjo or he would play the banjo. Or one of us would play our cigar box dulcimer, “Wandering Bear” we named it.  Sometimes, listening to music is too painful. Other times, it reminds me of the memories I have to hold onto and I cry and cry for hours and it reminds me of the depths of our love. Our music and records, just like his poems and love letters are reminders of our soul connection to each other – forever.

On our way to pick blueberries in May 2014 – our usual May tradition in Tallahassee. This is Jacob with a Donkey, we couldn’t resist stopping off the side of the road. Plus we found some wild blackberries near here. He is holding our water bottle I left at the French Town Market in early 2017… we were both really sad when I lost it. We had it for so many years…

I am going to leave this post with a poem from the collection I self-published, which I realize probably very few have read but, what the hell? Maybe you want to read some suffering. I know I do. There is nothing relatable about self-help books or all that “happiness and rainbows” bullshit.

Summer 2015



I have young flesh

all marked up

with old pains.

and while the sideways clock

shuts down the wind,

we are left here

to meet in the morning-

as noah’s dove once whispered,

life ain’t worth living

without the one you love.


but there is something

in the doing

that is needed

for the why.


the song

I am singing

comes in

on a whistling trill,

and is older than

the exodus bell



when I see their skin

that looks like mine

I have to stoop down

so I don’t bump my head.

I have to hang tight

so I don’t drop my luggage.

I have to cool the flames

so I don’t distill the wash.

I have to fly downriver

so I don’t sink my core

I have to worship

the dry giant,

so I don’t scrape

my running feet.


but no matter how

I struggle and stride,

I always

have to

jump the line.

I always come back,

roaring under

the night sky.


I never find myself in these people,


it must be

my young flesh

all marked up

with old pains.


– Frances Bloom (Kaitlin Griffith)