The 5524 MacArthur Blvd., Club

LOL, I think there was 59 push ups, way to go Army!

One push-up for every point is gonna have them sore the next day 😅

He said, “No, you hang up first.”

Those were the last words he spoke to me—after one of our many long conversations filled with laughter, sadness, and the kind of honesty you only get when you truly know someone.

My brother Ken’s life was not easy. From the very beginning, there were challenges—rheumatic fever as a child, injuries that seemed almost unreal in their severity, and the kind of hardships that leave marks you don’t always see. I remember him being burned badly in a camping accident, and another time when a bull bucked him and his jaw had to be wired shut.

But some of his hardest battles weren’t physical. He grew up gay in a deeply traditional and judgmental Catholic home, where parts of who he was didn’t always feel safe to be seen or loved. That kind of silence can be heavy.

And still—his light never went out.

Ken was an artist in the truest sense. Through his crocheting and painting, he created beauty constantly—not just for himself, but for others. He gave his work away freely, because making people happy made him happy.

And then there was Dan.

Dan was his person, his family, his constant. His soulmate. Through everything—through the struggles, the hard days, the moments that weren’t easy—Dan stayed. He lifted Ken when he stumbled. He loved him fully, in life and in death.

Ken fought demons, and it wasn’t always pretty. But he was loved. Deeply.

If you can be that person for someone—please, be that person.

We always say “everyone needs a Yoda.”

I think everyone needs a Dan.

And yes, he loved Aidan, my now grown 18 year old and was so proud of him always. Be free Ken and rest.

true!

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