My Friend Katherine Koonce Was Killed in the Nashville School Shooting. This is My Love Letter to Her—and Reminder to All of Us About How to Live Well

As a death doula who has worked with hundreds of people in their final days, I know firsthand that people respond to grief and loss in so many different ways. Personally, I like to remember the person I have lost through stories. I like to remember where we sat in restaurants and what meals we shared. I like to remember secrets and one-liners that only have meaning for the two of us. I like to remember how we treated each other, and the way I felt when we were together.

This week, I am feeling all of those emotions and so many more because my dear friend, Dr. Katherine Koonce, the Head of Covenant School in Nashville, was gunned down in yet another act of senseless violence on Monday.

The phone call with the news came from another dear friend and left me in disbelief. I stood motionless in front of the TV waiting for confirmation. As the details of the victims came in, I was heartbroken. Three 9-year-old innocent children and three caring adults in their 60s gone—their lives, families, and friendships shattered.

Waiting to hear the names of the victims and seeing Katherine’s beautiful face above the “breaking news” banner on my TV was surreal and something I would never wish on anyone. Yet I fear someone reading this might one day soon find themselves receiving a similar, devastating call.

If you ever get that call, you will feel your heart sink. You will feel like the world just stopped spinning. You will be sad, and you will also be angry. Gun violence just hit home.

I miss Katherine and the stories we shared. I’d pick her up on her lunch break rather than meeting her at the restaurant just so we’d have more time together to talk. We’d sit at the same table, in the same restaurant, with the same chopped green salad and sweet tea every single time we met for those lunch dates. I remember our conversations about God and spirituality, and what it looks like to be a good person. Katherine was a good person, and yet she always wanted to be better. We provided for each other a safe place to explore our own truths—without judgment, and without trying to convince each other to be anything other than our true selves.

When I got breast cancer, Katherine showed me what true friendship looks like. Our times together were deep and meaningful, but nothing compared to the love that Katherine poured on me and my family when I was too sick to care for any of us alone. Nashville women are mighty. They work in teams and support anyone who is in need in the community, whether sick, grieving, going through a divorce, hungry, or food insecure—you name it and these women will circle you like a flock of loving birds and tend to your aching heart as if it were made of pure gold.

Katherine loved me like that. She rallied the troops for me and my family. She showed up. She wasn’t afraid of my scars or what the future might bring. She helped my three little kids feel comfortable with my bald head and my emaciated body. She helped them raise money because these adorable 7, 9, and 11-year-olds wanted to cure breast cancer—and she wanted to support them in that effort. Katherine walked with me and my other best Nashville friend, Michelle, who was also fighting breast cancer, at the Race for the Cure. We walked arm in arm, wearing pink ribbons and t-shirts, smiling all the way.

Katherine loved me in just the way I like to be loved.

Fast forward and years pass. It’s COVID times and we have a very long phone conversation. After an hour of each of us catching up about life, we dig into our hearts and get deep—just like we used to. We talked about how much fun we had in that restaurant, at that same table, with our chopped green salads and sweet tea. We talked about God and spirituality, and what it looks like to be a good person. We told each other how special we were to each other and how grateful we are to know each other.

Just two weeks ago, I heard from Katherine again. Of course, she was just being Katherine, doing what she could to make the world a better place by donating to a fundraiser I’d helped organize for supplies in Ukraine. We exchanged a few emails, and again I thanked her and told her how much I miss our lunches, leaning into each other at that corner table, just sharing as deeply as two people can go over chopped salads in a packed café.

After reading that last email, I realized it was almost my birthday. I would soon be starting my 65th journey around this crazy planet. I thought it would be awesome to write a list of the people I love—those who have truly made an impact on my life—and call them or visit them all during my 65th year.  I’d call this project “Alive at 65!” When I opened my laptop and started the list, the first name was Katherine Koonce, followed by so many women from Nashville who showed me how to love well and how to live in community. This was going to be a quiet, personal project for this very special year.

Just a few days later came the devastating news and the reality that Katherine had been killed. I immediately remembered that she inspired me to start the list and that hers was the very first name at the very top. Now, I will not be able to visit her this year. I will not be able to hug her and go back to that familiar restaurant and share another meal with her.

Instead, her memory will live on for me with every other friend I reach out to this year. I am committed even more to connecting with the other people on that list, and to sharing my heart with each of them.

For every person who hears me say “I love you,” I will thank Katherine for the inspiration.

Every time I say “I’m sorry,” I will draw on Katherine’s courage and intention to live well.

Every time I forgive someone, I will remember her ceaseless faith.

Every time I say “thank you,” I will also whisper a silent “thank you” to Katherine for reminding me that we are only guaranteed the very moment right in front of us.

Katherine was as wonderful as a friend could be. Her faith was her foundation. Her family was her greatest love. And still, she always gave back to others so they could feel loved and cared for, too. I’m blessed to have been one of those people. Katherine’s untimely and tragic death will forever feel like an urgent call to never waste a chance to share my heart—ever.

Diane Button is the author of the bestselling new release, Dear Death: Finding Meaning in Life, Peace in Death, and Joy in an Ordinary Day. She is a practicing end-of-life doula, a lead instructor at the University of Vermont Larner College of Medicine’s EOL Doula Certificate Program, and a founding partner of the Bay Area End of Life Doula Alliance in Northern California. You can find out more about Diane, her books, and her work at DianeButton.com.