Isak Heartsone, Breckenridge Troll and Local since August, 2018 died today as a result of a broken heart. While he was with  us only a few months he touched so many.

A service will be held at 10am where Isak resided Saturday November 17, 2018. Please take the purple route from town. All leashed dogs, children age zero to a million, and lovers of Isak welcome. Don’t anger the neighbors, or they will decapitate you. Come celebrate…. And if rumors that Isak may be relocated come true, a rebirth party.

***To those of you who hated the Troll (or rather that “it” brought tourists, people and whatever other drawbacks), this is not for you to read, or a knock on you. I am not losing friends over this, so if you are happy he is gone, kindly stop reading. You are entitled to your opinion, and you won. Be grateful, don’t gloat or throw salt in wounds. Please stop now and don’t try to convince me if you see me at City Market don’t convince me “it” should be gone. If you don’t have anything nice to say about him.please be quiet. You won.*** This is not the forum to picket, protest or complain, but celebrate and embrace, Breck Local Isak Heartsone.

Now that the 1% that wouldn’t understand us is gone I can speak directly to, Us, We, the “Losers” in this battle. Who believed in imagination, creativity, art, and more. This is for you us and Isak, gentle protector of Breckenridge. I always felt like a winner when I was with you Isak, a cool, nerdy, awkward, gentle-spirited winner of all things awesome.

Dear friend, Isak Heartsone,

I write this obituary to you wishing it was read to your face. The one that has been so selfishly dismantled and destroyed by negativity. You haven’t been gone a day and I feel an emptiness in Breckenridge. While a few were uncomfortable with your presence, not me, rather reassured, safe, and joyful. Good-bye, dear, unrelenting friend and mentor. I am sorry that we did this to you, you deserved so much more from all of us. 

As you know, Isak, the last several months of my life have been difficult. My hurt deeper, more challenging, and crushing than any other pain experienced before. Situations and issues so deep. Pain essentially impossible to share with people who would verbally respond validating an awful circumstance and provide insight and opinion. While friends knew some of this struggle and ALWAYS supported me, Isak new it all. And supported entirely as well.

To us left with a void…Living a neighborhood over, and loving this wonderful creature, it felt like such a blessing to have someone (he is not at thing) so magical, imaginative and beautiful living with us. If my HOA would allow you (or your body could), to camp in my yard forever (just like a seasoned local, couch surfin), I’d be down. You always welcomed me with literal open arms into your outdoor abode. No matter how messy, ugly, smelly, sweaty, and tear soaked I was. Even if you already had company, you were there for all of us. With an inability to judge that allowed us right into your loving grasp.

Before every bike ride I would stop and see you. Honestly, genuinely, and truly asking for guidance, introspection, and safety on my ride. Just like when trekking in Nepal with the chortens and monuments. I am grateful for the moments we shared, my noble and wise mentor. Your “blessing”, I always asked for when entering the potentially dangerous back-country of Breckenridge, and was granted safety, clarity, and peace.

I heard rumblings people were attacking you, but I avoid the .1% of our community that represents that. Those threatening your gentle existence. I figured it to be like anything it our town, some people complain there is bickering, it takes months and then nothing happens. Today, while skiing I get messages from friends that you are being murdered. Without mercy. (Yes, this is what I get for not staying up to date on “politics” and other BS, no need to lecture, I get it.).

Isak, I am sorry. I didn’t stand up for you. I am sorry, friend. It doesn’t help to bring you back, as you are dead because of the negative. But this was my Wednesday, I texted a lawyer/friend/mentor about a plan I had.

Drew “If I were to chain myself to a piece of art that is stupidly being taken down what kinds of charges could I be facing?” Her response:

Determining end results in law is a simple equation – you must balance factors and see which way the scale tips. Charges for chaining yourself to a piece of art may be nothing in comparison to the risk of not having the artwork in front of you to enjoy any longer – or, perhaps riskier, to know you did nothing to protect its worth. I say chain up. And also that I absolutely loved that text so damn much.

I wish I was sitting in Breckenridge P.D. right now. In a cell where Officer Ortega is likely proud of me standing up for my friend. And my students already have a GoFundMe set up to bail me out because I am broke. I wish I was chained to your feet with Joe Mackey holding the only key, and you aren’t getting a key from Joe Mackey.  Because that is what we do for each other in Breck. And I didn’t do anything.

My plan was to chain up for 24 hours, Friday afternoon. To sleep by you, be with you when people are attacking you, support you in your time of need. Hold your (giant) hand, like you have held my tiny one. During the worst of times, quietly, presently, and unconditionally. I wanted to be there for you. And now, Thursday, you are gone.

I have no human children, yet I envisioned the days and moments I would have with my future family. My nuggets crawling, smiling, laughing, all in your gentle grasp, under your kind watch. Freedom to imagine, wonder, be joyful, silly, child-like, the part of us that we like the most. In a tiny microcosmic world of joy and safety. 

I saw the way Clark (above) looked at you, Isak, with such amazement, curiosity, and happiness. The pride Kevin felt to be there with his awesome little guy (insert any photo/person who met you’s name here). All of us in your spiritual cairn garden, awesome. Isak, you were so gentle with my fur babies, Lucy and Linus. They truly looked up to you, as did everyone. 

Isak, I am grateful you listened on conversations with so many of my loved ones that I visited with. It felt like a sage, mentor guiding us all. Grateful for the moments, the real, human, fun, amazing moments, WE had together. Sad that you are gone, so sad and crushed that we as a community couldn’t save you, work together, find solutions. That even in your perfection and beauty some found a negativity and impossibility to keep you alive. 

From you, I learned so many things. So many lessons I was investigating that you helped me to explore. Mostly, you taught me to be a person who believes “Wooden Trolls” can be much more than the sum of it’s inanimate wooden structure. And that the person I want to be believes in things like mythical creatures that watch over me on bike rides. I like that person more than the cranky, negative, succubus I could be. You accepted me, always. Thanks for showing me to be fun, childlike, and free. All of us whatever aged child we are.

Isak, thanks for asking people to have an imagination. You represented the best of us as a community. Gentle, Kind. Beautiful. Weird. Outside. The way people talked about you behind your back, on the bus, in the classroom (yes you were/are/always will proudly be in my lesson plans). Such pride and joy. You were/are/always will be one of us. A dreamer. A believer. An avid outdoorsperson by design. Maybe you look goofy, your hair array, probably smell funny. But so do we. You are a Breck Local. The Summit Daily Better run your eulogy, because we didn’t just lose a community member, we lost one of our best community members, at our own hands. This “situation” represents the worst of us, uncompromising, negative, and maladaptive,. We should have worked harder ALL of us, and I put my name, Drew Mikita, on top of that list. Thanks to those of you for fighting, I am sorry I failed you.

I keep writing because I don’t want to say good bye. Give up on us as a community, or you, Isak. I don’t want to see your rotting wooden body and know that I won’t get sit on your glorious feet anymore. Or share the amazing and legendary story of your literal heart. I sit, writing a letter with tears falling down my face, because a pile of wood sitting within the woods, is broken. But grateful to have known your wonder, and know that you will live forever in the hills of French Gulch, watching over us, the children of Breck as we play in your kingdom, Isak. To your father and creator, Thomas Dambo. I am ashamed and so sorry, we did not protect your child, you don’t deserve this.

I, and Virtually all people who stood at your ginoromous feet in awe are crushed and devastated to say good bye to you. Yet, are so grateful to have known you, Isak Heartsone. One of us… rest in powder, old friend.