10/31/2026
A Message from Jimmy
It’s hard to find the words to write this, but Sunday will be Driftwood’s final day of service. After ten years, we will be closing our doors.
Since sharing the news of Ilia’s passing, the amount of love and support shown to Maxon, me, and our entire Driftwood family has been overwhelming. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly express how much it has meant to us.
I want to share a little more about our story, because Driftwood was never just a restaurant to us.
In 2012, Ilia and I were sitting on a beach in Tulum, drinking a warm b**r and talking about our future. She asked what it was called that we were sitting on, a large piece of driftwood. There wasn’t a name for that in Spanish, she said. It’s just called wood that was in the water.
A few moments later, I asked her to marry me. She said yes.
Years later, we built Driftwood together. We wanted to create something bigger than a restaurant. A place where people felt welcome, where our team could grow, where local farmers and fishermen were valued, and where our community could come together. We poured everything we had into that dream.
Ilia was behind so much of what made Driftwood work. She was my balance, my voice of reason, and the calm to my storm. She figured out whatever needed figuring out. We wouldn’t have opened without her, and we certainly wouldn’t have made it through our first years, COVID, and all the challenges that followed without her.
She was an incredible wife, an amazing mother, and one of the most remarkable people I’ve ever known.
But behind the dream, we were also dealing with things that most people never saw. The pressure of running a restaurant, the financial stress, and our own struggles with physical and mental health took a toll over the years. We kept pushing, believing that if we worked a little harder and got through one more obstacle, things would eventually get easier.
Ilia had been struggling, and I don’t think I fully understood how much she was carrying. Her passing has left a hole in our lives that I still can’t begin to comprehend. I’m trying to make sense of losing my wife, my best friend, and the person who helped build everything we worked so hard for.
At the same time, I’ve had to come to terms with a reality I never imagined facing. Without Ilia by my side, navigating the challenges of running Driftwood has become increasingly difficult. I’ve spent a great deal of time reflecting on what is best for my family and what the future needs to look like. As much as I wish things were different, I’ve come to the painful realization that continuing to operate Driftwood is no longer possible. Closing the restaurant is an incredibly difficult decision, but one I know I have to make.
This decision isn’t just about saying goodbye to a business. It’s about our team, the local farmers and fishermen who trusted us, the small businesses that supported us, and the community that became part of our family. I feel an enormous responsibility to do what I can to help those who have stood beside us.
I also have to focus on being the father Maxon needs and figuring out how to move forward for the two of us. He’s only 13, and making sure he has a future is what matters most to me right now.
I’m incredibly proud of what we built. Driftwood was never perfect, but it was real. This dream never would have come to be without the intense love that was shared between myself and Ilia. Driftwood was built on that love, passion, hard work, relationships, and a belief that food brings people together. I will always be grateful for the people who walked through our doors, celebrated milestones with us, supported our team, and made Driftwood what it was.
If you’re able to contribute to the GoFundMe campaign established to support our family and the Driftwood team (https://gofund.me/bf738d30b), I would be incredibly grateful. The funds will help with our family’s obligations, Maxon’s future, memorial expenses, and support for our team as we navigate this transition. Every contribution, no matter the size, will make a difference.
I don’t want Ilia’s story to be remembered only for the way we lost her. She was so much more than that. She was the woman who said yes on a beach in Tulum, the mother of our son, my partner in life, and the person who helped turn a piece of driftwood into something that touched so many lives.
I see a future for Maxon and me, even if I don’t know exactly what it looks like yet. Right now, we’re taking things one day at a time.
To everyone who has supported us over these ten years, and especially over these last few weeks, thank you. To the guests who came in time and time again, who trusted us through every menu change and believed in what we stood for, we will never forget it. We feel the love, and we will carry it with us long after the doors close.
Driftwood is, was, and always will be about the people.
With love and gratitude,
Jimmy
