Since my childhood, any time the Marshes and Wilders got together, it was at Kenny and Carols. Personally, and what I thanked him for every visit over the last few moths, it is where they took care of my mother on every trip since she's been diagnosed. If she wasn't with us, she was with them and that's where she wanted to be. Kenny, her uncle, was like her 2nd father, she'll always say, and he had this amazing ability to make her laugh no matter how bad she was feeling. He did that for everyone. Whether parked in his recliner at home, shirtless in a beach chair at Winnipesaukee, or meeting the staff at Sebasco to sneak golf cart rides during our wedding weekend, his words, often inappropriate and out of left field (that's why we love him), drew people in and there wasn't a single person who doesn't remember meeting Kenny. It was at his house in the blur of my father's death, where I found comfort. From allowing family to gather after the burial to just letting me sleep on a couch when I didn't know where else to go, they were there.
He was my godfather and although it may not have been through hugs and kisses, I felt his love every time we spoke - which thankfully was a lot these past few years. He made me laugh every time I saw him and could talk about anything, and would do anything for anyone that was lucky enough to be a part of his inner circle. He had his hilarious Christmas gifts for the family which didn't change year in and year out no matter what age. That was him - consistent and solid. You knew what you were getting from Kenny and you knew it was all out of love. He showed love to me by dropping off a used recliner to my dorm room each year (which my roommates still talk about) and through offering me a beer every time I walked through his door (no matter what time and I could never say no). It won't be the same walking in to "hey Ry, want a beer?" ... often even before "hello". I'll never forget the last beer I had with him a few weeks ago, at 9am, after having shared our news. Struggling to speak, he had Kourtnie get me a Bud Light and he an O'Douls to cheers one last time from his recliner and the words "you hit a homerun, Ry." :)
It's hard to put in to words what he meant to me and to the rest of our family, but I think yesterday said it all. As the line flowed continuously out the door at his wake with friends and family from near and far; as his 6 incredible grandchildren shared their memories of their "biggest fan"; as his 3 sons stood strong with their wives talking of their father with stories of unforgettable devotion; as my mom spoke of the good times with he and her parents as we drove through Framingham; as my wife remembered one of her favorite parts of our wedding being dancing in his arms; and as his wife, stood in single degree temperatures, surrounded by family, with her hand glued to his casket sending him off to a better place.
We will all miss you, Kenny. It won't be the same walking into the house on Craig Rd every holiday without your commentary and cheer. It won't be the same without your voicemails about skunks in the rubbish to invitations to the club. It won't be the same hearing you speak so highly of your last meal and specifically, our wedding. It won't be the same, but your memory will live strong in all of us and we will never forget a single day we spent with you. The easiest part about that is having countless "Kenny stories" that we can share in the company of everyone you loved and held dear.
After one of our latest visits, Natalie left saying "if you're ever feeling down or are having a bad day, go to kenny and carols, because you will leave there feeling great."
Rest in peace, good man. There are plenty of people up there waiting to hear your stories and I know you will find a recliner to sit in.
Love you, Godfather and thank you for being you.
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