Breeanna saw me before I could see myself. In a crowded room, with the kindness that always told the truth, she named the wall I was hiding behind — and stayed long enough to make sure the seeing became something I could carry forward.
For years we traded poems and voice notes across oceans. We talked about liberation — the freedom that comes when a person stops performing who they are and starts transmitting it. We dreamed of standing on stages all over the world together, rescuing voices.
She was a poet, a light-carrier, a truth-teller. She loved deeply. She created prolifically. She saw people — really saw them.
On November 10, 2025, Breeanna Smith died by suicide.
My last words to her were, “I'll see you in Reno.” She smiled and said, “We'll see.” I have turned those two words over more times than I can count. What I know is that she smiled when she said it. And that I am glad she smiled.
This book is dedicated to Breeanna. The work she initiated in me — the slow, necessary work of becoming undivided — is the work this book describes. Every word in it carries her name, whether it appears there or not.
Why I Do This Work
Allyship begins with listening.
I am heterosexual. I do not claim to share the lived experience of the gay and queer leaders I coach. My friendship with Breeanna, and the work of becoming undivided that she initiated in me, are part of why this work matters so deeply to me.
Coming out does not mean you are no longer suffering in silence. Being visible is not the same as being heard, supported, or safe. You do not owe anyone more disclosure to deserve support. My role is to listen without presuming, respect your choices, and help you lead without leaving yourself behind.
Executive coaching is not therapy or crisis care.
For Breeanna
You were not gentle. You were kind, which is different.
Kindness tells the truth. You never flinched.
I have stood at the edge of oceans on four continents
and held up my phone like a candle toward the horizon
and said: she is here.
We'll see, you said. And smiled.
I see you. I see you. I see you.
I speak for two now.
The ocean is still there.
And so are you.
