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Writing through tears, I am heartbroken to share that Kaylee Walstad has died suddenly and unexpectedly.

Kaylee was the loving, nurturing mom of our e-discovery community; our tireless cheerleader, stalwart friend, and steady heart. She showed up for everyone—eager to listen, to soothe, to lift burdens from others’ shoulders. She was generosity and kindness incarnate. Wise and warm, radiant and real, she was simply one of a kind.

For years, I’ve begun each day with Kaylee and her EDRM partner and compadre, Mary Mack. Weekdays, weekends, holidays—every morning began with Wordle and a few encouraging words from Kaylee. That small ritual became my daily “proof of life.” In the truest sense, the sun rose with Kaylee Walstad’s light.

Every Tuesday for five years, she was there for the EDRM community support call. And every time, despite her own challenges, Kaylee devoted herself to lifting the spirits of others. She cared, genuinely and deeply, radiating love the way a flame radiates heat. If you knew Kaylee, you know exactly what I mean. If you didn’t, I am sorry—because to know her was to feel lighter, better, more hopeful. She was “Minnesota Nice” to the bone.

Beyond our community, Kaylee was devoted to her two children and her sister. Weekends and holidays were joyous festivals of food, laughter, and family. She poured herself into them, and their triumphs were hers. I cannot begin to fathom the depth of their loss.

We will honor Kaylee’s professional achievements in due time, but right now my heart insists on pouring out love and admiration for the glorious woman who has left us so abruptly, and left us all immeasurably better for having known her.

In the words of poet Thomas Campbell: “To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” Kaylee lives on in the hearts of all she lifted, encouraged, and loved.

Gregory Bufithis, one of Kaylee’s legions of admirers, shared a version of these comforting words:

Do not stand by my grave, and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning’s hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand by my grave, and cry—
I am not there, I did not die.

— Clare Harner, Topeka, Kansas, December 1934