I couldn’t give my wife’s eulogy.

I wrote it, but a preacher I’d just met had to read it.

And I hated that. Hated that I sat there, silent. Hated that I couldn’t "man up" and muscle through it.

So when my daughter died, I became obsessed with delivering her eulogy myself—and making it matter.

I would stand up and speak. No matter what.

And I did.

At one point, I looked out at all the young people in the room and said:

"One of the things Chloe was unable to do was ask for help when she desperately needed it."

Then I told them to pull out their phones.

"Add a new contact."

📲 First Name: Jay 📲 Last Name: Chloe’s dad

I told them I wasn’t a therapist. I wasn’t a psychologist. But I was a damn good listener.

And if they ever needed someone to listen—without judgment, without lectures, without fixing—to reach out. Anytime.

Then I gave them my number.

And I asked them to text me 2-3 things they loved about Chloe.

Over a hundred texts came in that day.

And in the years since, some of them have taken me up on my offer.

What’s something you’ve done after an important loss that you’re proud of?