When Kevin’s wife Shelly was diagnosed with breast cancer in August 2020, they faced it together as they had everything else in their relationship: as a team. But when the cancer spread to her brain three years later, their journey took a different turn. 

“The doctor told me what would happen,” Kevin recalls. “She’d have a seizure, we’d go to the emergency room, and three or four days later, we’d turn her over to hospice. That was the first time I ever heard that word. I didn’t even know what it meant.” 

When that day came in July 2023, Kevin felt overwhelmed and lost. Then someone he describes as “an angel,” an Ohio’s Hospice nurse, took him by the arm in the hospital. 

“She said, ‘Okay Kevin, we’ve got this. You’re going to let us see you through this. How are we going to do this?’” Kevin remembers. “Shelly always wanted to be at home. She wanted to pass at home.” 

For the next seven weeks, Ohio’s Hospice | Dayton transformed their home into a place of care and comfort. Nurses visited three times a week. Personal care specialists helped with bathing and daily needs. The entire care team surrounded Kevin and Shelly with support. 

“I was so ignorant of everything, but yet I never felt stupid,” Kevin reflects. “I never felt like a failure, because I wanted the best for my wife, and they were always there to tell me exactly the direction to go.” 

As someone who describes himself as a perfectionist, Kevin initially struggled with medication dosing, trying to honor Shelly’s wishes as a recovering alcoholic with 26 years of sobriety. When he called for help one difficult night, it took two and a half hours for the nurse to arrive. 

“She pulled me aside and said, ‘Kevin, I need to tell you something. You’ve got to realize that we’re not medicating for recovery. We’re medicating for comfort,’” he shares. “That was a turning point for me.” 

Kevin’s “village” rallied around them: family, friends and his sister who drove four and a half hours to stay for 11 days. His sons discovered their own ways to help, one taking care of the outdoor tasks, the other assisting with direct care. 

“I only spent one night alone,” Kevin says. “The people you didn’t expect stepped up, and the people you thought would be there were afraid.” 

Shelly died on September 2, 2023, 42 days after coming home. But Kevin’s journey with Ohio’s Hospice was far from over. 

He started with grief support groups through Pathways of Hope℠, though he initially struggled with the group format. The turning point came at the Christmas service. 

“That service springboarded me through that Christmas season into the new year,” he remembers. “That first Christmas, first New Year, was really tough.” 

Kevin then began individual counseling with Vince, a grief counselor at Ohio’s Hospice, through Pathways of Hope, alternating with his longtime counselor. The combination gave him both male perspective and grief-specific support. 

Throughout his grief journey, Kevin has kept a remarkable journal — 163 entries of what he calls “silver threads,” blessings that came from Shelly’s death. 

“My faith is what got me through this whole thing,” Kevin explains. “These are things that happened just because she died. They’re blessings in my life or someone else’s life, or just the bounty of God.” 

The entries include deepened relationships with his sister and sons, increased compassion for others, and a newfound appreciation for beauty in everyday life. “I became more observant, more in the moment,” he says. “I would never look hard at what God has created, and now I have a lot more gratitude in my life.” 

Two years later, Kevin still meets with Vince occasionally. “I think he loves hearing about me coming out the other end,” Kevin reflects. “Because I think he probably sees more that don’t.” 

When asked what he wants others to know about hospice care, Kevin’s answer is immediate: “The people I came in contact with, I had such internal trust with. From the chaplains to my head nurse to the personal care specialists who would come in, it was almost like they were angels.” 

He continues, “I know they went above and beyond the call of duty. I didn’t want to take advantage of them, but I did use it as a resource, because it was something provided to me, I would have never imagined. I would have never imagined what a blessing that was.” 

Today, Kevin hopes his openness about grief and accepting help will encourage others, especially men who often struggle to seek support. 

“If I can help one person, especially a male, because from what I hear, they just struggle so,” he says. “If someone would read the story and figure out, ‘Here’s a few things I could do that would help me get through this,’ that’s the stuff that I may never know who that touches.” 

Kevin’s journey through loss has transformed him. He’s more compassionate, more present, and more grateful. He retired this past April, inspired by the reminder that “tomorrow’s never promised.” 

“I just love that compassion that’s in my heart,” he says. “When I see people struggling, you just have to say a little prayer for them, because there’s not that many bad people out there, but there’s a ton of bad days.” 

To learn more about Pathways of Hope at Ohio’s Hospice, visit OhiosHospice.org/PathwaysofHope or call 888.449.4121. Thanks to generous community support, Pathways of Hope services are available to all members of the community at no charge.