For the past week and a half, Nicole Breazeale has been looking for a missing memorial to her husband. On Monday, she set out a Little Free Library in honor of her late husband, Phil. It was covered in bumper stickers that summed up his personality.

Less than 24 hours after she set it out, someone took it. A friend set out a sign, pleading for that person to bring it back, but a week and a half later, she's accepted that it's gone.

"I got to a place where I came to peace with the fact that the box is not going to come back," she said.

Even though the box was only outside for a few hours, though, it made a big impact.

"It broke my heart!" said Jennifer Bradford, of Bradford BBQ in Zandale Center.

When she heard the story, she decided to create her own Little Free Library in support of Breazeale. She's not the only one.

"Parts of Lexington, and Frankfort, and Louisville, and Glasgow, Kentucky, and beyond. I was honestly in tears about it I was just so overwhelmed," Breazeale said.

Her husband, Phil, worked as an archaeologist at the Kentucky Heritage Council. They plan to make a box in his memory. Phil was also a supporter of FoodChain here in Lexington. They plan to make one as well. Even the Barren County Detention Center has created one inspired by Phil. The movement has even reached beyond Kentucky.

"Wisconsin, California, this was in Texas," Breazeale said, looking through her Facebook messages.

Breazeale said she got a message from a woman traveling the country in an RV. She's in Texas and noticed an empty Little Free Library box in an RV park.

"What she has done is share that post and asked that her friends who read that post send some books that they care about to the RV park to restock it in Phil's honor," she said.

When that little box went missing, Breazeale was heartbroken, but now she's realized something else. Maybe that's the way it was supposed to be.

"It's crazy to think about but you're totally right. There's no way in the world that my little box, my little semi-private tribute to Phil would have had this kind of effect. There's no way it would've reached anywhere near this number of people. That is amazing. It shows what Phil's spirit is doing," she said.

Their little boy, Alex, doesn't quite understand what happened. He still wants to know where his daddy's box went. Turns out, Breazeale's got a good answer for him.

"One of Phil's colleagues put it best. He said when Alexander asks where his daddy's box is, tell him that it's gone off to create lots more boxes in daddy's memory. And I really loved that," she said.

If you would like to create your own Little Free Library, Breazeale left instructions in a Facebook post:

"If you are interested in donating books or a hand-crafted Little Library to this cause (or if you have the time and space to care for one in your neighborhood, but don’t have the materials), please stop by Baby Bundles of Lexington at 2535 Nicholasville Road (store hours are 10-7 Monday through Friday, Saturday 10-6, and Sunday 12-5). The owners (whom I’ve never met) have generously offered to serve as a drop-off and pick-up point. Please leave your name and contact information so I (Nicole) can thank you and come visit your Little Library at some point in the near future. See http://littlefreelibrary.org/ for instructions on how to make a Little Free Library, what the movement is all about, etc. Lastly, a few special “Phil” books that might make a nice addition to these boxes: (1) Brown Bear, Brown Bear (the book Phil read to Alex every night); (2) Stephen King (any book -- Phil's favorite fiction author); (3) Thomas Merton (any book...a special part of our love story); (4) Wimsatt, Please Don't Bomb the Suburbs (about the hip hop generation and how their dreams changed as they grew up)."

Breazeale's Facebook thank-you post to her supporters, embedded in this article, reads:

"Dear Facebook friends. For those of you who kindly shared my post last week requesting assistance to locate the memorial box that disappeared from my front yard in Lexington, KY. Will you please share this one as well? It is a follow-up that describes the incredible impact of your efforts.

Tribute box is gone, but Phil’s spirit lives on in upwell of community support

A week ago was the first anniversary of my husband’s death. Phil died from brain cancer at 38. He was extraordinarily full of life—revered as a jokester, sports enthusiast, political critic, world traveler, and archaeologist. But mostly Phil was loved for his endless curiosity and passion, his gentle heart, and his steadfast commitment to family, friends, and community.

To memorialize my soul mate and little Alexander’s daddy, the two of us constructed a Little Free Library that we placed in front of our home on his angelversary. The tribute box was covered with the same bumper stickers that adorned Phil’s iconic blue Forester. It was filled with books that were important to Phil and that he would want to share with other people. My hope was that this Little Library would promote neighborliness, that it would encourage people to browse through his collection and find something of interest, and that it would serve as a topic of conversation for those who wandered by.

Much to my surprise, and heartbreak, the box disappeared in less than 24 hours, taken by unknown individuals for reasons only they understand. However, something extraordinary followed in the wake of its disappearance. My original Facebook post asking for help in locating the box was shared more than 4000 times. Many folks must have called the local media because news reporters showed up in droves the next day and covered the story widely. J&H offered a $500 reward for the box’s safe return, and I have since received two other offers to add to that reward.

No one is more disappointed than me that the box did not materialize this last week. I was certain that it had been taken accidentally--that someone had thought the box was cool and that its owners no longer wanted it. And I imagined that when they opened the box and saw its contents and heard all the media reports that they would return it. Unfortunately that did not happen.

The box may be gone, but I have been humbled by the show of support from this community. Among the extraordinary things that have transpired: a stranger left a gift at my front door and we later discovered that I had been a babysitter for her son 22 years ago; I met four neighbors for the first time who invited me to visit with them and to join in a women’s group; I reconnected with high school friends of mine (and Phil’s); and many, many strangers from across the state offered to help replace the box, commenting on how touched they were by our love story.

Of course, the response was not all positive. Many people reacted by reaffirming their feelings of distrust and disappointment in our community: “If we don’t chain up our valuables, some scumbag will steal them.” I’ve done a lot of thinking about how to counter that narrative, because truth be told, if that is the outcome of this loss, I will be even more heart-broken. It is the opposite of what I was trying to accomplish with the Little Library memorial, the exact opposite of what Phil would have wanted.

Incredibly, however, there is a different community response that is gaining momentum. Like the initial show of support, it challenges that negative narrative and may even bring about something more beautiful than I had intended. Two days ago I was tagged in a Facebook post by someone I did not know. Jennifer Cooper & Matt Bradford posted the following message: “Help her honor her husband. Put library boxes all over Lexington! I’m making one for Bradford BBQ!” That same day I was cc’d on a group email sent by Rachel Kennedy, a former colleague of Phil’s, proposing that those who loved Phil “place a little library box in your yard or somewhere in your community.”

The Kentucky Heritage Council is placing an archaeology-inspired box outside of their office in Frankfort. FoodChain will create one with books that promote food literacy and the sustainable, local food movement. The Little Free Library non-profit is providing a Lexington library in honor of brain cancer warriors, which will be filled with books hand-selected by family members who have lost their loved ones to GBM. Even the Barren County Detention Center was inspired to create a Little Free Library in their lobby for kids who are growing up without a parent. And there are other individuals (and families) who are making boxes because it seems like a nice thing to do.

While I am sure that Phil’s spirit is laughing hysterically at all the fuss over a missing box (the contents of which are replaceable, and even meant to be distributed), his legacy has been a catalyst for drawing parts of our community together. If it makes the community a little more generous and a little less isolated, then that’s a great thing. And as people continue to step up, it draws on the best of them, the part of them that is kind and concerned for others— not isolated and fearful, not afraid of others. That is squarely in line with Phil’s values.

For me, having faced the loss of my best friend and life partner, everything seems different now. In the grand scheme of things, the loss of this box is not the end of the world. What started as a single, semi-private tribute to the man I loved has turned into something that touched a whole city. At this point my attention is focused on the good things that are coming out of it. I know that Alex and I have been blessed by a tremendous show of support from friends and family over the last year and a half, but I did not realize that there was a wider trust-worthiness to this place I call home. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for that."