A Letter to the Father of my Child

Kim Steinberg and her husband, Si, live in the small high desert city of Boise, Idaho. Kim enjoys tromping through the foothills, walking by the river, and traveling to places unknown. Kim lost her oldest son, Kieran, January 20, 2023 - and attended her first Sacred Sorrows retreat in February 2025.

You are seen, you are heard, you don’t have to say a word.

I know the flame of love in your heart burns as bright as mine.

You may be silent while I speak. You may explode with anger while I cry alone. You may go to work when I can’t get out of bed.

I want to say I understand. I know you show grief differently, that silence doesn’t mean a lack of suffering.

I know you want him to go on, to build a monument so he is never forgotten. You want to yell and scream. You want to trace his steps, go where he goes, be where he is.

I know you crave justice for him. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did, so young and full of dreams.

I feel what you feel even if you don’t express it. The emptiness he used to fill. The memories crowd in against your will, when you don’t want to think or feel.

He lives in your face, your smile, your laugh. Every time you say his name. Every story that you tell.

You are the only person who was there from birth to death, who knows what we went through; the worry, the fear, trying to keep him near, to protect, but having to let go. You made the hard choices too, saying no when everything inside said yes.

You helped birth him into this world. I remember how he fit into your hands like he belonged, how soft you were with him, careful and tender. I know you ache to hold him in your arms.

I remember you taught him how to fish and hunt, and ride a bike. We tried so hard to do everything right. What we have done and what we failed to do. He knew he was loved and he loved you.

I remember when he was little, how he imitated you, and when he grew into a man, he was like you in so many ways.

We lost a part of ourselves and we’ll never be the same. That’s the price we paid and I wouldn’t take it back.

Because the time we had with him…that was the measure of our days.