I have to start this with saying this is a project I never thought I'd be working on. Even with as hard as it is to work on this in some ways it adds to understanding more and helping feel better. If there is anyone that would like to contribute material to these pages please send me what you'd like added. If other families have sites like this to remember their loved ones lost under similar circumstances please feel free to contact me. I'd be interested in having a link to connect to your page.

Please help us by visiting the Memorial Fund Letter Page and being generous. Kevin was a great guy and the best way I know to show that you agree is to help others that are in pain. The above buttons can be used to navigate the pages about my brother Kevin. I used the below poem as part of the eulogy and reposted it here as the opening page. This poem was written in honor of Abraham Lincoln and is one of the few poems Walt Whitman continued to edit till his death. I do not have any recent photos I took of Kevin. I did what I could to put photos of him on the link above.

MaryLynn, from left, Kevin, Pattie and Steven.

 

O Captain! My Captain!
     by Walt Whitman 
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack,
      the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
      While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart!
      O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
      O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up- for you the flag is flung- for
      you the bugle trills, 

         For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths- for you the shores
             a-crowding,
          For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
             Here Captain! dear father!
               This arm beneath your head!
                 It is some dream that on the deck,
                   You've fallen cold and dead.

          My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
          My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
          The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
          From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
               Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                 But I with mournful tread,
                   Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                     Fallen cold and dead.