The Heart of the Matter

Caleb,

Your heart was special.

You always knew how to love - fully, freely, and without hesitation.

 And yet, your heart was also hurting in ways we couldn’t see. We treated symptoms, searched for answers, but nothing pointed us to what was really happening. The tests didn’t reveal it. 

Not until the autopsy did we begin to understand the physical reality - that your heart had been struggling. You had cardiomyopathy connected to an ultra-rare genetic condition. It wasn’t only your heart; other vital organs were affected too.

And still… you kept going.

You were your same energetic self - working hard, chopping wood, serving, lifting others. The night before you passed, you received a blessing for intense back pain. Now we understand… it was likely your heart.

Your dad and I decided early on that no matter what we learned, we would seek peace with your passing. But still, the questions come… What if we had known? Could we have helped you stay?

Those questions - what if and why - don’t bring peace. They will never satisfy.

What remains are the truths of your life.

You worked hard. You played hard. You served with your whole soul. Even when life was heavy, you pressed forward like the rest of us, then somehow found a way to rise again, offering smiles, thumbs-ups, and high fives. You chose to serve a mission, and in doing so, you touched countless lives in ways only you could.

Your legacy here on earth - the legacy you left for your siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and friends - is exactly what it was meant to be.

A little over a week after you passed, we met with the parents of the missionaries who were with you that morning - January 3. Through them, we were given a sacred glimpse into your final hours. We wish we could have been there with you… but we are deeply grateful for those who were.

Your companion found you unresponsive early that morning. CPR was performed. Police and paramedics came. At the hospital, medical teams worked urgently to revive you.

In the middle of that chaos, your companion asked if he could give you a blessing. Permission was granted.

He later shared that as he began the anointing, his hands shook uncontrollably. He asked for help, and two other elders were brought in. One of them gave the blessing.

He described placing his hands on your head, overwhelmed with emotion. As he closed his eyes, he saw light. The noise of the hospital faded into silence. He didn’t feel like the words were his own - only that they were being directed to your spirit. He believed, with all his heart, that the words came from the Savior.

All of them felt a quiet but undeniable impression: your spirit was no longer in your body.

When the blessing ended, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

Nurses wept. EMTs shook their hands. People who had seen everything stopped, feeling something different - something sacred. One nurse said she had never experienced anything like it before… the spirit that filled that room, the power of what she called a “spiritual prayer.”

Even then, Caleb… you were still touching hearts.

As the missionaries sat together afterward, they spoke of the Plan of Salvation—of where you were, of what you must be experiencing. And one phrase settled deeply into their hearts:

“Well done, thou good and faithful servant.”

We are so grateful for those missionaries; for their faith, their courage, and their love for you. We pray they will feel peace as they continue forward. 

We are also so thankful for your mission leaders, President and Sister Taufa & President and Sister Yellowman, who have shown such tenderness and care. We carry deep gratitude for all of them.

Caleb… you’re still helping them, aren’t you?

Maybe your earthly heart was simply too big to be contained here. Your legacy lives on, and we know your work continues - on both sides of the veil.

And still… it’s been three months as of today...and we miss you fiercely.

Love,
Mom