Originally published in Nikkei Asia's “Henry Kravis: My Personal History"
Chapter 28
In honor of Harrison, whom I still think about
Family is the center of my life. Without a doubt, the saddest day of my life was July 13, 1991, when I lost my eldest son, Harrison, in a car accident.
While dining out on a Saturday night, I received a phone call from one of Harrison's friends who was with him that night but traveling in another car. I was told that Harrison's car had crashed, and he was "hurt pretty badly." Soon after, he called me back and said, "He's passed away."
We later learned Harrison was driving fast on a gravel road, lost control along a curve, the car hit a ditch and flipped over. He wasn't wearing a seatbelt and was killed inside the vehicle, while a passenger survived the crash with a broken arm.
Harrison's name, like mine, was given in honor of my paternal grandfather, Harry. He lived only 19 years. He was in college at the time of the accident. The sudden and premature death of my son was truly devastating for me and the whole family.
Robbie (Robert), his younger brother who was born 14 months after Harrison and did everything with him, also took a long time to recover from the shattering loss and start moving forward. It was another heartbreak seeing your children cope with that kind of unimaginable tragedy so young.
Many parents who have lost a child receive words of comfort like "Oh, I know how you feel," but I cannot say the same because not all losses are alike. The loss of a child is beyond tragic. No parent should ever have to face this, but it happens. One time is too many. My heart goes out to any parent who has ever suffered this loss.
Seeing me distressed, a close friend referred me to a psychiatrist who encouraged me, saying, "You are strong, and you are not melting down. You may find, one day, you're just walking on the street and you look up at the sky and you start thinking about Harrison, and it's going to have an effect on you. Just be prepared for that." He was right. I still feel that presence and it was like a lightning bolt of shock at first but now, with time, I enjoy him popping up into my day and thoughts and being part of what is happening.
When Harrison died, my closest friend (co-founder) George (Roberts) flew in to see me. Our children had interacted, since they were of the same age, and he was close to Harrison. To this day, he still displays a photo of Harrison and me together in his office. He and some therapy helped me through the horrible time.
Then it was time for me to make a decision. At 47, do you stop living, pull yourself into a shell and just say, "Life's over?" That's not what Harrison would have wanted.
I'm the kind of man who, even if the glass is only half full, doesn't lament but goes to fill up the rest. I decided to look forward and keep moving. I believe Harrison is cheering me on from heaven, saying, "Thank God, Dad, you didn't stop!"
George and I have been there for each other since we were two years old and for most of life's most poignant moments. George's most painful day was May 7, 2003, when he lost his wife, Leanne, to cancer at the age of 57. Fortunately, later on, he found an incredible companion in Linnea who became his wife and true partner after Leanne's death.
As I mentioned before, I had known the two since their first date during college. They were a wonderful couple who raised three children. I had never seen George as happy as when he married Leanne, and I had never seen him so devastated as when he lost her.
George needed support, and I wanted him to realize that I was always there for him. "Don't worry, I'm here to do what needs to be done, at KKR. Do not worry for one minute that, you know, you're not present. I'm here. That's why we have each other," I said.
When the holidays came around in 2003, my wife, Marie-Josee, and I visited George in Hawaii where he was staying over the Christmas holiday because I didn't want him to be alone.
We stayed for 10 days, and it rained heavily every day. The day we left, however, George came out, looked up, and said, "It's gonna stop!" We just sort of laughed about that. We still bring this up and laugh about it today.
My life would be very different without George. We have our own lives but we are family and the best of friends. I hope everyone is blessed with similarly special people in their lives.