Han Michael Kranzchin - 11.27.2021 to 7.9.2023

I love you forever sweet baby boy.

Our beautiful son Han died in Palmer, Alaska at 9:00am on July 9, 2023, likely due to a cardiac event. His death was sudden and the moments before his death, traumatic.

Han visited his great grandparents resting place on July 4th. He left three cheerios on their tombstone.

Han’s last week of life was beautiful - he got to meet and know so much of his Alaskan family. He saw a moose calf, a bear, and eagles. He learned to love CCR and bounce his little booty. We ate smoked salmon, hugged family, and spent our days blissfully with our village. He was reunited with his best friend Grandpa (and Grandma).

He died the morning of my cousins Katie and Adam’s wedding - they joined us at the hospital along with much of my Alaskan family who helped us hold Han and say goodbye until the funeral home could come get him to begin his journey home. The funeral home who took care of Han also took care of my grandparents when they died.

My cousin Katie carried a lock of Han’s hair down the aisle on her wedding day in her bouquet and placed it at my grandparent’s tombstone.

The last week has been long, painful moments sprinkled with kindness from family, friends, and strangers. Our trip home from Alaska went smoothly - pilots and flight attendants sought to make our trip a little easier. The pilot on our flight from Seattle to Austin (Captain Joe) personally made sure Han was aboard and told us that he would make sure our family was cared for and got home safely.

Bonnie picked us up at the airport and we came home to a hot cooked meal made by her and her sister Judy. My high school friend’s Matt and Ashley brought tacos for our freezer. Alex and Miranda, whose son Zephyr is six weeks older than Han, brought care packages of love and goodies. My college friends Laurene and Dr. Jrob came to stay with us and bring some love in person. And countless people from every chapter of me and Mike’s lives have poured love into our very empty cups.

Today we took another step into our grief - Han was cremated. A horribly final and real moment of parting permanently with our son’s body. He wasn’t in it anymore. We now face a world just that much more removed from our Han’s joyous life. We are fighting through existence, in our best moments feeling present and in our worst ripped from reality.

Ways you can help:

1. Say our son’s name.
   Han (or Hanimal). If you had a chance to meet him, think of the time that you had and share it with us.

2. Give love.
   Kiss your loved ones, especially littles ones with plump cheeks, a little more for me. I liked to ask Han “Do you want a hundred kisses?” And then kiss him like crazy! If he said no, I would ask him if he wanted a thousand kisses - he usually wouldn’t say no. :) Send us your love however you can.

3. Show us how you saw Han.
   Send us any and all photos you have of Han that we may not have seen - it would be a joy to have an opportunity to see moments past from new perspectives.

4. Open your home to Mike and I.
   The hard work of caring for our son in death will become less active soon and we won’t need to be in our home in Austin. While it feels right to be here now, we anticipate that the time is coming when we will want to be somewhere else.
   
   We’re planning a backpacking trip to Europe to get away for a couple of months. If you, or anyone you know, has a spare bedroom that they’d be willing to host us, let us know. It would be a gift to spend time with people who care about us, or who can be convinced to care about us, while we live in our loss. Being alone is hard and traveling is better with people who know and love the place.

5. Consider attending Han’s Celebration of Life.
   We will be having a 2nd Birthday for Han at our home outside Austin, TX around November 27, 2023. If you’re interested, let me know. Once we’re further along in our grieving process I will share more about our plans.

I hadn’t started sending these again with this kind of update in mind. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that writing feels right. Not a single thing in this world feels good, but I can try to find comfort in the things that feel right.