The Impact of Paths Crossing: A Sudden Loss, A Lasting Ripple

When paths cross and time stops.

Guest Writer: Linda Weyler Jacobson, in memory of her mom and Will.

Lady Griz Roots & Crossing Paths #1

The Montana Lady Griz are a Division I basketball program that had a huge winning tradition when I played from 1995 to 2000. We won four conference championships in the five years I played. The one year we didn’t win the Big Sky Conference championship was 1998, my junior year, when injuries gutted our roster before and during the season. Big Sky Conference and Grizzly Athletics Hall of Fame Coach Robin Selvig asked Karen Hardy, a Griz soccer player, if she would join our team for the rest of the season, and she didn’t hesitate. She fit right in. She gave us everything she had, and we relied on her more than I think she ever knew. On paper, her role was small. 

To me and my teammates, she’ll always be a Lady Griz, and the season wouldn’t have turned out the way it did without her. Karen’s time suiting up for the Lady Griz made an impact on me, and so did my six months with her nephew, Will. Short time, big impact. Must be a Hardy thing.

Losing My Mom & Paths Crossing #2

Fast-forward to 2021. I lost my mom on December 4, 2021. She went home to be with the Lord within six weeks of getting sick. She was my best friend, and nobody knew me better. She gave the best advice and knew when to listen and when to help. She sent the most thoughtful care packages and always gave the most perfect gift. She had prayed for over 10 years that I would find a job that was my passion. So I started my company, LWJ College Fit Consulting, in March 2022 because I needed a way forward after losing her.

In August 2022, Karen reached out. Her nephew, Will Hardy, was from Washington, was playing JUCO football out of state, and needed help finding another school. I’d only worked with high school basketball players, helping them find their best fit playing college sports, but I took the call because it was for Karen. I worked with Will from August 2022 to February 2023. In May 2023, I read the news that he had passed away suddenly.

Before my mom died, I thought I knew grief. My grandfather died of cancer right before my eyes when I was in sixth grade. My grandmother, Virginia, who I spent many summers with growing up, lived a long life and passed away at 98. I’ve had pets cross the rainbow bridge, and I’ve lost friends from high school. But once my mom passed away, I felt like I was a different person. Things hit harder for no clear reason. Days felt too long, empty and out of control. Being told or thinking she was “watching over me” didn’t give me peace or make me miss her any less.

What grief looks like for me:
- A song on the radio flips my day.
-  The sun breaks through the clouds, and I’m back in it.
- A gray-haired woman in turquoise at Kohl’s makes me smile and makes my heart ache at the same time.
- I go to bake and end up just standing in the kitchen with tears, because my mom loved being there.

When tears hit hard, I let them. Sometimes I turn around and don’t go into the store. On her birthday, Mother’s Day, and the day she passed, I do all I can to celebrate her. Still, I feel a part of me is missing. What still breaks me is driving; I used to call her weekly and have chats.

Grief doesn’t follow a plan; it pulls you under, spirals you out of your best-day plans, and you never see it coming.

I will never say I know what a person is feeling when they lose someone. Nobody has the same experience. What I do know is that when I think of Will, I tear up. Part of that is the ache for the Hardy family. Part of those tears are mourning a life cut far too short. I feel so blessed by my friendship with Karen and to have had the chance to meet her sister-in-law, Bri, for the first time a few months ago. We chatted in a Missoula coffee shop in the same town where Karen and I used to play for the Lady Griz. We laughed, and we also spoke about Will, and I shared my last call with him. I am grateful for that time and a chance to connect with Will in a deeper way.

Will,

This isn’t the way I wanted to talk to you again. Our last call has stayed with me. You told me you were stepping away from football to focus on school. That could have been a text, but you called. You didn’t owe me that, but it meant a lot to me, and even more now. I hope this post honors you. I never met you in person. I never shook your hand or watched you play like I do with most of my athletes, but you impressed me from day one. You were my first football client. My first out-of-state athlete. You believed in me from the start and, in turn, years later, you have helped me have much more confidence in my work with athletes and what it means to leave a legacy.

 I wanted to catch you up: I finally met your mom and saw your Aunt Karen. I told them what I’m writing here that you truly impressed me. You would be proud of your mom. She is one strong woman, and I’m so grateful our paths have now joined.

Where Grief Lives, Love Still Goes

I’m here talking about a young man many of you will never meet. Some of you knew him or played sports with him. I was a small blip in his life. In mine, he still brings a smile and leaves an empty space. The family carries the heaviest grief; the rest of us feel it too, even after only knowing him six months. He changed me. That’s the legacy of a short life. His parents gave him the tools to be kind, confident, and respectful. I can’t understand their pain. I do feel the loss, and I’m grateful our paths crossed. Your life was short, Will. Your legacy is not.

Today, I’m still trying to build my work while parenting two teenage boys and being a wife to my patient husband. Being a start-up, I’m still waiting for the day I can breathe a little easier month to month. What pays me back twofold are the athletes and the relationships I have gained.

Thank you, Karen, for stepping in when we needed you years ago. Thank you, Bri, for the coffee, the real conversation, and the long hug. And thank you, Will, for calling when you didn’t have to. I’ll carry your legacy forward, always.

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The email I sent after my last interaction with Will.

emailed Feb 19 2023 to Bri and Jeff Hardy- "I have been meaning to reach out and make sure your family knew how much I appreciated the opportunity to work with Will. He and I had a great conversation a few weeks ago and he explained to me what his future plans were and that it would not include moving forward in trying to find a fit for college football. I appreciated his call and how well-spoken and honest he was. 

I realize that I did not work with Will for very long but I truly enjoyed getting to know him and the Hardy family. Thank you for working with me.”

About the Author:

Linda Weyler Jacobson is a former Lady Griz standout, Kodak All-American Honorable Mention, and Big Sky Conference MVP. A wife and mom of two boys, she now works with athletes and families through LWJ College Fit Consulting, the business she founded in memory of her mom. She believes sports and life are about relationships that last far beyond the season. Learn more at www.lwjvideo.com.

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