My son, Kalden, was my everything.
We shared a small apartment above a bakery that always smelled like cinnamon and yeast. He’d study at the kitchen table while I cooked dinner. He was the kind of kid who made straight A’s and still helped the neighbors with their groceries.
Losing him… shattered me in a way I still don’t fully understand.
When he died last November, my world cracked open and hasn’t fully closed since. Some days, I still expect to hear his door creak open or his sneakers squeak on the kitchen tiles.
So, when my ex-wife Margo showed up not even two weeks after his funeral asking me to hand over his college fund to her stepson, I thought I was hallucinating.
Her tone was almost businesslike, like she was discussing something routine.
“You have that 529 Plan,” she said, sitting at my kitchen table like she had a right to be there. “I mean, since it’s not going to be used now… I think it makes sense for Devin to use it.”
Devin. Her husband Jerry’s kid. A boy Kalden never really got along with. I think they met maybe four times total.
I blinked. “You want me to give Kalden’s college savings to some kid he barely knew?”
She shrugged. “It’s just money. You can’t use it for anything else, and Devin is trying to get into tech school.”
I stood there, staring at her, completely floored. Not even a tear in her eye. No mention of Kalden’s name unless it was about his money.
Here’s what she didn’t know.
That account wasn’t just numbers in a bank. It was years of sacrifice.
It was me working double shifts. Packing lunches when I barely had enough for myself. Turning down vacations, nicer cars, even a second date because every extra dollar went into that account for Kalden.
I didn’t save it for “a kid.” I saved it for my son.
I calmly told her no. That the account would stay untouched until I decided what to do with it. She rolled her eyes and muttered something about me being selfish, then stormed out.
A few weeks later, I got a letter from an attorney.
She was suing me for the fund. Her claim? Since she was Kalden’s mother and we were both listed as contributors (she threw in $500 once for the tax write-off), she said she had a right to it—and was requesting it be transferred to Devin.
I was so angry I couldn’t sleep for two nights straight.
My current wife, Liana, who never got to meet Kalden but supported me through my grief, sat me down.
“You don’t have to fight her with anger,” she said. “Fight her with purpose. What would Kalden want?”
I thought about that for a long time.
Kalden used to tutor a kid down the hall—her name was Mireya. She was 15 and wanted to be a vet. Kalden helped her study for biology and even taught her how to use a graphing calculator. He never asked for a dime. Said it “felt good to help someone who gave a damn.”
I reached out to Mireya’s mom a few weeks after. Asked if she was still planning to go to college.
“She wants to. But there’s no way I can afford it,” she said. “I’ve got two jobs and it’s still not enough.”
That night, I knew exactly what to do.
I contacted the state and got the details on converting Kalden’s 529 Plan. Turns out, you can transfer it to another “qualified family member” without penalties, but anyone outside of that? There are tax hits and restrictions.
So I cashed it out. Took the penalty on the chin. Didn’t matter.
I split the money.
Half went to a newly created college savings plan in Kalden’s name—for Mireya. I told her mother, “Kalden believed in her. I think he’d want this.”
The other half? I used it to start a small foundation. “The Kalden Grant.” Each year, we’ll pick one student from our town who shows academic potential and give them a $2,000 scholarship to get them started.
When Margo found out, she was livid. Called me selfish again. Claimed I was being “spiteful.”
But spite had nothing to do with it.
Kalden spent his life lifting others up. He deserved to keep doing that, even after he was gone.
I miss my son every single day.
But knowing that his name will help someone get through school? That his memory will live on not just in my heart but in someone else’s future?
That’s something I can live with.
Here’s the truth: You don’t owe your grief to someone who doesn’t respect it. And sometimes, honoring someone means standing your ground—even when it’s hard.
Thanks for reading. If Kalden’s story touched you, please consider liking and sharing this post. You never know who might need to read it today.
