The saying, “the loudest people are the ones who command a room, but sometimes it’s the softest souls who leave the deepest impression,” speaks to the idea that a person’s impact is not solely measured by how much attention they demand. Some people leave traces of themselves through gentleness and the way they make others feel seen and comfortable, even in the smallest interactions. For Kallkidan Horlock, that was her energetic “Hi, my love!” at Wellness Wednesdays, not eating in front of others without sharing her meal, or remembering the smallest clothing item you loved and buying it as a gift days later.
That’s who Kallkidan was: a quiet, yet immensely thoughtful soul who loved people in ways that felt effortless and sincere — even those she did not know deeply — like a fiery yet calming warmth you didn’t realize you needed. At least, until you felt it by Kallkidan.
Kallkidan hilariously described herself as an ‘introvert’, which confused us two, because if she was an introvert, we were something 100 notches lower. Unlike ourselves, who tend to move through social spaces more guarded and reserved, Kallkidan was naturally open. Her gentleness never made her distant. If anything, it made people gravitate toward her unknowingly. She always made an effort to introduce herself to anyone and remember their names. She made you feel special.
But in little ways, she was an introvert. She was a homebody at heart (she loved her Palm South “house,” and so did we). She loved to cook food and text all her friends, asking to come over for dinner. Those moments were also where people opened themselves up to her, venting on their fears, emotional struggles, and dreams in life.
“Whenever I would come over to Kallkidan’s apartment, she would always insist on cooking or providing a delicious meal that she had previously prepared,” said Natasha Cordova-Diba, class of 2026 graduate. Cordova-Diba also shared that Kallkidan was “a giving and selfless person” who “listened, never judged, and was a calming and supportive presence.”
Kallkidan found comfort in quiet moments, close company, and the familiarity of home rather than constantly being out in the world. For her, home was Ethiopia.
Kallkidan Horlock — sweetly known as “Kalu” to her loved ones — was an Ethiopian-born adoptee who migrated to Australia as a baby with her younger brother, Ephrim. I (Mikal) vividly remember texting Melody in August 2024 while on shift as a Residential Advisor (RA) saying “I just met a Habesha transfer student from Australia!” Melody responded, “Habesha? From Australia?” Melody was fascinated, and she knew she wanted to meet her immediately.
The reality was, we lived a completely different life to Kallkidan: we were American-born, but we held direct access to our culture, language, and Ethiopian upbringing. Kallkidan’s relationship to Ethiopia carried a different type of longing, and it was one that moved us so emotionally.
There were little ways Kallkidan showed her deep desire to remain connected to her roots. We saw it when she gathered us, and friends Leyat, A’Kaia, Metanya, and Peja for dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant in Inglewood. She showed up in a stunning kemis, a traditional Ethiopian dress, with an excitement that radiated across the table.
Even though Kallkidan was nine months younger than us two, there was something undeniably maternal about her. She had a quiet instinct to nurture, cover, and make the people around her feel cared for. She wanted those she loved to feel as close to the culture as she longed for herself. We had never felt more looked after by someone our own age than we did by Kallkidan.
“When I met her I felt the warmth of her smile, the tightness in her hug. I immediately was like, ‘this is someone I want in my life for a really long time,’” said A’Kaia Phelps, class of 2026 graduate.
What stood out about Kallkidan is the fact that, although she was a practicing Muslim, she was undeniably eager to learn about all religions and backgrounds. As Christians, she would talk to us about our own faith, encourage our relationship with God and continuously pray for our successes and wellbeing.
We were privileged to travel to Ghana with her last summer as a part of LMU’s Global Immersion Course, and Mikal had the honor of rooming with her throughout the trip. Kallkidan had never revisited Africa since being adopted, and she ironically never intended to join the competitive class. Mikal told her about it, and eagerly encouraged her to email the professors, Dr. Cheryl Grills and Dr. Deanna Cooke, to get an override since the class required for the trip had already begun. Much like ourselves, they could not resist Kallkidan’s infectious energy and genuineness to connect with her African background and let her right in.
Throughout our travels in Accra, Kumasi and Cape Coast, we have never seen so many locals point out Kallkidan’s beaming aura. This went all the way to spiritual priests who adored her presence and genuineness; they all felt her deeply. Even during the early wake up calls where we had to sit on a bus for hours to reach our next destination, Kallkidan would crack out-of-pocket jokes out loud, which never failed to make us all laugh during those long rides.
Another moment we will never forget is when Melody did a theatre performance with LMU’s Del Rey Players, and she showed up with the biggest bouquet of flowers saying how proud she was. She dropped everything, even left her laundry running, to make sure that she had the perfect view to watch Melody perform. It was a small accomplishment to Melody — as both of us have acted for over 10 years — but we always told her she treated our wins “as if we won a GRAMMY.”
And this wasn’t specific to Melody, she did this for everyone, including Mikal. Kallkidan would eventually do the same thing, texting Melody saying “I got [Mikal] flowers [for her theatre play], gonna put together the bouquet… let’s just say it’s from the both of us.” Selfless, never expected attention, and did things by her own will — again, that’s who Kallkidan was.
“Beyond [all], she had the warmest heart. [Kallkidan] was the kind of person who would pray for me whenever I was stressed about an exam or struggling with life,” said Leyat Hailu, class of 2026 graduate. She would cook and bring me food without me even asking.”
This wasn’t far off, especially when Kallkidan knew others were going through hard times. After she found out I (Melody) was feeling down due to personal situations, she ordered a spread of my favorite Mediterranean food and had it delivered to my door. That night, I cried like a baby to my mom about the gesture, and she said “Kallkidan is a true friend. You will rarely meet people like her.” She was right.
Only the people closest to Kallkidan knew she suffered from endometriosis, a chronic and often debilitating condition where tissue similar to the lining of the uterus grows outside of it. She experienced daily pain, physical issues that impacted her day to day activity, and continuous fatigue. Even after everything she went through, it never showed. After all the pain she experienced, still, she would never miss a chance to support a friend.
We continue to tell ourselves that Kallkidan was meant to transfer to LMU, because she was the true embodiment of the very same Jesuit pillars that the university prides itself on. Her commitment to service and justice was out of this world — to where Mikal would watch in awe, after Kallkidan handed her groceries outside of Trader Joe’s just to help an unhoused person who was hungry.
She was a global citizen through her deep curiosity and appreciation for interculturalism. Most of all, she lived a life of purpose where her greatest passions meant the world’s greatest needs — through caring for people emotionally, advocating for absolutely anyone, strengthening community or simply making us feel less alone in this world. Kallkidan is someone we could only imagine to be a quarter of throughout our lifetime. In just 21 years, she was able to do that.
To say Kallkidan’s passing in March 2026 hurt just those who knew her closely would be a lie. After word spread of her transition, we have never seen so many people across different sides of campus — people we never met in our four years at LMU — mourning together and sharing their beautiful memories with Kallkidan.
She was a powerful poet, and it was a hobby she often kept to herself. Kallkidan was able to find a home in welcoming spaces like Words of Mouth (WOM), a poetry club on campus. She was also heavily involved with the Muslim Student Life (MSL) on campus, as well as organizations like the African Student Association (ASA) and Black Student Union (BSU).
Kallkidan was supposed to walk the stage in May and receive her diploma, and it’s crushing to know she did not get to hold what she worked so hard for. We would always talk about graduation with Kallkidan, our excitement to receive a degree, and our hopes to travel together to Ethiopia this summer. There was still so much life ahead of her, so many experiences she deserved to see through.
Losing someone so close to you alters your life forever, and it can be painfully difficult to hold your head high. But what lies beneath the surface is living a fruitful life for those who have passed on like Kallkidan. Grief will never be linear, but overtime you begin to grasp a sense of understanding that beating yourself with sadness and “what if’s” will not change the outcome.
“Love, love, love on your friends and family and your people, the people in your corner,” said Phelps. “It means so much.”
Even though Kallkidan has left us, we profusely thank God for making her part of so many people’s life stories, including us. We could have known her for one day, three weeks, five months: her lasting impact on our lives would have been nearly identical.
In an infinite number of ways, Kallkidan’s life is a testament to the fact that the most impactful people are the ones who see you deeply, and love others most intentionally. Her graceful presence challenged people to become softer, more generous, emotionally present and appreciative of the people around them, especially those mentally struggling. It has challenged and changed us forever.
Kallkidan will forever live through the acts of care we extend, every thoughtful gesture we make and every moment of love inspired by her, and only her.
To the brightest angel, we miss and love you deeply. Your legacy will never be forgotten, and it will live through us for the rest of time.
With undeniable love,
Melody and Mikal Mulugeta
