Kolt Keith

Kolt, my middle son, was born in 1986 and had spiked blonde hair, earning him the nickname Possum from his Papa. Inspired by Colt Severs (Lee Majors) from The Fall Guy, and my love for horses, I thought the name Kolt would be perfect.

He was a natural comedian who loved making others laugh. Passionate about sports from a young age, he tirelessly practiced his jump shot, baseball pitch, and a perfect football spiral. He worked out regularly, becoming the envy of those who wished to be as buff as Kolt.

My son was not perfect, but he was perfect to me.

In June 2004, at 18 years old, he was at a party, where “pill roulette” was initiated. In pill roulette, you dump a bunch of prescription pills in a bowl, and then each person swallows what they grab. Kolt received a ride home around 1am, made a mashed potato sandwich and put some frozen chicken nuggets in the microwave. He took the sandwich outside and sat down on the steps. His older brother, Brandon, came home an hour later and found him sitting on the steps. He gently kicked him and told him to get in the house and go to bed. Kolt fell over. Brandon opened the house door and yelled for me to wake up. He called 911 and then started CPR. I woke up to this chaos and immediately began helping perform CPR until the ambulance arrived. When we reached the hospital, we were directed to a room and asked to wait. A few minutes later, they came and told us he did not make it. At 4:30am that kind of information does not fully register, and I just wanted to see my son. They let me go in and be with him. I did not want to leave…I wanted him to take a breath and tell me it was a joke. But that never happened.

We had a funeral in Benton County, Arkansas, and another in Mason, TX, where he was buried in a family cemetery.

Almost 18 months later, we received the autopsy results. Kolt had died from an accidental overdose. He had Hydrocodone, Xanax, and alcohol in his system. None of them were a lethal dose by themselves, but the combination of the three, put him to sleep permanently.

As I was arranging the funeral, I began to reflect on his name and its potential meaning. Keep On Living Today came to mind almost immediately, and I felt certain that one day, I would use this acronym to honor my son and support others.

The initial few months felt like a haze. The pain was so intense that I wished for it to end. One day at work, a memory of Kolt brought me to tears, soon escalating into sobbing. Amidst my crying, I distinctly heard Kolt’s voice teasingly call me “Drama Queen!”, a phrase he used when he believed I was overreacting (I prefer to call it being a concerned mother). My sobs turned into laughter, and at that moment, I realized I wanted to live. With two other sons, I had every reason to keep going.

I had many, many conversations with God trying to make sense of any parent having to lose a child. In the end, I found peace believing that Kolt’s time on Earth was done. While I miss him every single day, his purpose on Earth was fulfilled.

One of the most difficult parts of losing my child is fearing that others might forget him. So, for every birthday and anniversary of his death, we cook and eat his favorite meal and talk about him with his niece and nephews. While none ever met him, they all know him as if they had. We wonder how many kids he would have, what kind of job he would be doing, and just anything that comes to mind. We cry a little but spend most of our time together laughing.

Kolt never gave up on anything. I pray that anyone reading this will know that we should Keep On Living Today, no matter what we are going through.

Being open about my pain and discussing my struggles has allowed me to support others going through trauma and pain. Establishing Kolt’s Equine Konnections serves this purpose in numerous ways and keeps my son’s memory alive in so many hearts and minds.