My deepest sympathies to Kiran, Nico, Shaila, Jeannie and John's family.  I don't think it's very often that someone have such a profound and felt impact on so many lives. John was such a good friend to me and offered his support and wisdom to me during some of the most difficult times in my life. I admire John for the love and adoration he had for his kids, the respect and reverence he showed to Kiran as a friend and mother of his children and the love he had for Jeannie, his family and friends.

Some of my favorite memories with John are watching our two sons (Nico and Marc) play basketball on the Briar Woods team, cheering our sons on and the rest of the team and complaining about the bad calls! I will miss John very much. I wish comfort and peace for all who loved John.

I think that most of you who know me have always known that I find some catharsis in writing. It’s one of the reasons I embraced songwriting — because I often struggled to say out loud what was in my heart. But for whatever reason, words seem to flow more easily and naturally from my fingertips when I’m struggling most with what to say.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve written a lot about my relationship with John. I’ve shared that we weren’t a traditional divorced family, nor one that really fit any kind of mold. What I may have glossed over, though, is that this didn’t just happen on its own. It wasn’t easy — especially in the beginning. And at times, it didn’t feel like we’d ever get the co-parenting part right. None of it happened overnight.

I share this because, on social media, we often see only the polished stories — the ones without cracks or rough edges. I don’t want to paint a picture that isn’t real.

When John and I separated, there was a lot of pain — all the emotions you’d expect: resentment, anger, blame. We knew each other’s weaknesses and, at times, used them to be unkind. We weren’t “Kiran and John, great co-parents.” We were Kiran and John — two people, each armed with attorneys, ready to take on the other.

Then one day, we found ourselves in an especially ugly argument. I think we both realized, almost simultaneously, how far we had drifted from who we wanted to be. We had each seen how ugly divorce — and even marriages that turn careless — could become, and how deeply that can scar children. Neither of us had come from fairy-tale backgrounds, and we both carried those lessons.

That day, we made an agreement: to take a step back, to breathe, and to meet in the new year with a list of what truly mattered most.

In January 2016, we met at Peet’s Coffee in Brambleton, Virginia. He had his list, and I had mine. Both were short — and nearly identical. My words aren’t exact, but they went something like this:

* The children and their overall well-being

* Stability for our children

* Ensuring the kids were not split between parents

* Never putting the kids in the middle of our anger

* The importance of family — keeping the connections that mattered to us in each other’s families

* Wishing happiness for one another

That day, we both let go of our attorneys. Whether that was the smartest decision or not, I’ll never know — but I do know I couldn’t keep moving forward the way I was and expect it not to affect our kids.

In time, we began to share holidays, birthdays, and happy occasions. Slowly, the trust came back, and eventually, so did friendship.

In early 2020, just before COVID, I went through one of the hardest periods of my life — a deeply traumatic experience that left me lost and broken. It was John who saw that I needed help and quietly stepped in to lift me up. Saying he “helped scrape me off the floor” is an understatement.

And I’ve done the same for him when he stumbled, when I knew he wouldn’t ask for help but needed it just the same.

Our story wasn’t always pretty or easy — but in co-parenting Nico and Shaila together, we became better people, better parents, and better friends.

When I say I don’t know how to navigate this without him, I mean it. We were each other’s foils as parents — his strengths balanced mine. I know I’ll never be able to fill the space he’s left for our children. I’ll have to be both me and John — and we all know, nobody could ever be John but him.

I will do my best to honor him and be there for our kids, as he would have been.

Thank you for letting me heal through my words. Sometimes, it’s the only way I know how. 💔🙏