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Dearest Hunt:


I am guessing your inbox is bursting this morning – and maybe you won’t open this for days or even ever – but I just had to try to at least take a moment to reach out to you and tell you what a truly incredible job I thought you did on Saturday. Every word you spoke, and the way in which you looked directly into the eyes of the person to whom you were speaking throughout your eulogy– well it just took my breath away. I want you to know that in one of the small rooms off the church, I sat shoulder to shoulder with Mary Ellen, Lori Healy and we cried for you and held each other tight as we tried hard to wrap our heads around this excruciating loss – and randomly and by sheer coincidence, I ended up sitting next to Tommy Mallon – with whom I have emailed but have not seen in person since his daughter passed away almost a year ago. And we talked – he asking me how I could have buried not one daughter, but two – me asking him what he is planning on doing to get his belly-laugh back – something I noticed I lost for at least two years after losing my girls…I’m not a particularly religious person, but I’d like to believe God and Beau somehow made us find seats in that church next to each other – because sitting next to a fellow auk who has been through his own personal hell while we showed up for you to help your through yours, that made me believe in God a little more.


I wish I had the perfect words for you, Hunt. I wish I could say something to lift one iota of the agonizing pain that you and your family are going through. But we both know I can’t. All I can say is, you honored him like no brother I have ever witnessed in my life. You made it so everyone got the clearest, truest picture of the incredible man that Beau was. And your Archmere family was right behind you, even if you didn’t know we were there. I am sending pictures along so you can see the flock of auks who gathered late into the evening to talk about, laugh and cry over our boy Beau and the hilarious times spent with both of you. A few of my favorites were:


-When, during one of our lengthy free periods, my sister Sarah and a few friends (with Norine Bastian leading the charge) begged Beau to let them put mascara on his long and beautiful eyelashes. After MUCH begging and persuading, they finally wore him down, and the results were just as fabulous as we knew they would be – and he let the mascara remain there for a generous few minutes before scrubbing it off.

-Another time, a crew in the cafeteria dared him to eat four butter patties for ten bucks and he downed them like nobody’s business.

-He made up HILARIOUS songs on the bus – my favorite one in honor of Lou Centrella to whom he would sing Rod Stewart’s “Some guys get all the girls…” and then Beau made up his own set of lyrics which highlighted the fact that poor Lou got none of the girls, not ever, bless his heart.


Later on in life, when Beau and Connor hired me to work for them at what was briefly Bifferato, Gentilotti and Biden, I recounted some of these stories for Beau – I have a memory like a steel trap and I had so many stories like this and I had him laughing so hard one day he literally was on the floor of his office doubled over and I loved every second of making him cackle out loud like that now that he was all grown up and on his way to deploying and completing so many other serious and daunting tasks.


Anyway, here is my facebook post that I wrote the night I found out he died – just wanted to share it with you in case it brings you some measure of comfort:


“Beau Biden, you made me laugh the whole way to and from high school on that smelly bus of ours. You stayed my friend when both of us became parents and you showed up to both of my daughters' funerals with a quiet word and a hug and the unwavering sense of loyalty that was just...you. You gave me a job that I loved when I needed one and you were the guy we all leaned on when we needed a moral compass and a straight-shooter. You married your best friend and gave life to two beautiful babies. You will be cherished always and forgotten never. I am better for having known you and called you my friend. My heart is today and always with your family. XO”


One more thing – I’m sure he doesn’t remember this, but your dad wrote me a letter when my daughter Lily passed away – it was a poignant one page letter, basically telling me that he was so sorry to hear about Lily dying and telling me that I am going to be okay. It brought me true comfort, for I knew he REALLY got it – he got what it was like to have things occur in the wrong order – never should a parent have to bury their child – never should a sibling have to bury their sibling. It is simply the wrong order of things - every time.


I live in Boston now – but the first thing I do when I fly back into town is go straight to the cemetery across from Winterthur and I visit my little sister Amy, and my two daughters, Chloe and Lily. It pains me not to be closer to their graves physically, but I know they are with me, no matter where I go – just as Beau is with you. I wish you strength and peace and hope, my friend. I celebrate the incredible way you honored your brother – which left all of us in the class of ’88 in complete awe of you as a brother, an uncle, a son, and a friend. And I am here for you if ever there is anything I can do to bring one moment of comfort to you and every single member of your beautiful and loving family.


Class of ’88 Strength to you and yours, Hunt – and so much love,

Katie Hutchinson Schultz

617-699-7455