Hi all,

Thank you for sticking with me, especially over the last couple of months when my posts, blogs and social media alike have been at a minimum. For a while all I was capable of doing was Youtube Shorts as I let you know the emotional struggle I’ve been going through.

I also did a Toastmasters speech on what had happened. I would like to share it here with you in both text and as a Youtube video:

Read the Speech and more below:

“Kevin’s life is not well documented… because no contemporaneous material survives.”

So starts the Wikipedia entry of Saint Kevin the patron saint of Dublin, Ireland.

I feel for him.

The name Kevin derives from the Irish name Caoimhín, (don’t expect me to pronounce it) which basically means ‘of noble birth.’

I love my parents and have no problems with them naming me Kevin. Though Please, never call me Kev.

However, there are times in my life that the name has brought trouble.

There was only one other kid in my elementary school that I knew had my name. In high school a couple others but I never met them. Only as an adult would I know more.

Back when I was a kid anytime a character in a movie or TV show with MY NAME were either gay or the villain of the story. Nothing against being gay, but those were the only places I saw my name showed up.

Then there were the times that my name was used as a weapon.

One day the doorbell rang. When my mother answered it there were two young men standing there, and they asked “Is Kevin around?”

My mom told them I wasn’t there. In truth, I was asleep down the hall and I was three years old.

When did a toddler start hanging out with the older kids? After they left, mom put me in my stroller and went out for a short walk. She would see these two men get into a van. This is the late 1960s, so the van had a very visible and describable painting on the side. Which she was able to report to the police. She later learned this same van had been spotted and reported in different local neighborhoods, as they were seeking houses to break into. Kevin was just a name they had plucked out of the air.

That dark whisper of my name would remain in the air for decades, until it returned this past February, and my name became a bullet shot through the heart.

There had been a bad rainstorm that morning. I had no plans to go out into it. Certainly not by car.

We were getting ready for lunch, when the phone rang.

“Kevin?”

“Where are you?” My sister asked.

“At home, I’ve been here all day,” I replied, “why?”

It turned out that less than half an hour earlier my father had received a phone call. He could barely make out what was being said because the person was in tears, loud fierce tears.”

“I can’t understand you. Calm down and tell me what happened.” He said to the caller.

The person on the other end of the call went on to say ‘your son Kevin’, me, had been in a terrible car accident and had struck someone, and Kevin was now in jail.

This was a scam call, like so many others people have received. My dad has been prepared for such calls, even handled one a few days early. But this one was too much.

My parents didn’t fall for the scam, but it was too late for that to matter. The stress of the event, the anguished tears, and thoughts of me in an accident, was too much for my dad.

His next word, his final spoken word, was “Stroke.”

Because of the heavy rain, I had to wait until my sister let me know what hospital he was taken. The storm clouds parted and God’s rainbow led me down the freeway. Otherwise, I don’t know if I could have made the trek. Once I got there, I saw my dad on his way to a CT scan and was able to reassured him, that I, his son Kevin, was okay and had not been in any accident. I didn’t want that to be the last memory he had.

For the next two weeks, miraculously surviving far longer than the doctors expected, we were at his bedside. His right side completely paralyzed and he was unable to speak.

He couldn’t speak, but he could communicate. From responding with nods and shakes of the head or moving a hand to get us to do something. Even pushing at my mom when he insisted that she go home to sleep.

He also made it clear he didn’t want us to see him continue to suffer. So, in the end we all knew it was time and we stayed at his side for the next two days. My mom holding his hand for 28 hours until he took his final breath.

So, you’ll understand that as much as I love my name. There will always be a bitter sweet edge to it.

The speech came off very well, as you can see in the video, and I received a very positive evaluation.

After my father’s death we began to prepare for his funeral. When his own father died, it had been during the holidays, the funeral was a bit rushed, and he didn’t want that to happen for him. So, we took our time in the planning. Being able to reach out to people who needed to know.

My wife and I stayed with my mom as we went through all this. My sister helping out in many ways.

I wrote the Obituary, as well as wrote and read the Eulogy; part of which my father had written.

While in the midst of all this. A phone call came to the house:

“Hi Granddad, it’s your oldest grandson.”

“Oh,” I replied, putting my voice acting skills to work, “Grandson? What do I usually call you?”

There was a pause, “you don’t believe me?”

And the person hung up.

How can there be so many people lurking out there ready to scam the elderly (and I’m sure it’s not just the elderly), but since it happened to my dad, we have heard of so many that it has happened to.

The funeral went very well. Along with speaking myself, so did my mother, my sister, my nephew, and my wife who always had a special connection with my dad. He walked her down the aisle at our wedding because he own father couldn’t be there.

We’re now slowly getting back to our lives, and the regular things we need to do. (There is no such thing as normal.)

After two months, I’m needing to get back to finding employment as well as continue pursing Voice Acting opportunities. I hope to get a lot done, but…

You can plan all you want, but you are never in control.

The other day, having visited the cemeteries numerous times in a short period of times, a thought came to me looking at all the headstones and crypts, and mausoleums:

When you see a stone marked: R I P – Rest in Peace
Know that it isn’t there for our loved ones who have gone on before us.
That stone is for us. Telling us it’s Time to Rest and to find Peace.

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Thank you all.
God Bless.

Kevin