Kevin Matthew Kruse
November 7, 2005 – May 2, 2008
Our sweet boy filled our life with happiness and joy for 2 1/2 years. He fought congenital heart disease since the day he was born, but filled his short life with love, smiles, and laughs. He touched so many lives and was loved by all. He will be missed more than words can even describe.
“Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back
and realize they were the big things.” — Anonymous
- Diary of Kevin’s first 6 weeks of life in the hospital.
- His Life Story
- First Birthday Video
- Second Birthday Video
- Home Videos of Kevin (check back… we are slowly uploading over 100 videos…)
- Kevin and Matt Dancing
- Song – Sarah McLachlan – Ordinary Miracle (mp3 / 4.2mb)
- Our Journey of Healing – Updates from Matt and Dawn
Letter From Mom
To my sweet boy Kevin,
Thank you for being my little boy. I thought we would have so much more time than we did, but we made the short time you were here amazing. From the time I found out you would be born with a sick heart I knew I had to love you with my whole self and not hold back. You taught us how to live and the true meaning of life. You defied the odds and did it with a huge grin on your face. I wonder if somehow you knew to live life the way you did. You never held back and lived everyday like it was the very best day of your life.
You taught me to treasure the everyday occurrences for the true miracle that they are. It is not about big trips or expensive toys but sitting together on the front step eating a Popsicle. I loved when we would sit on the couch watching Charlotte’s Web and you would fall asleep in my arms as I ran my fingers through your hair. Somehow you knew to love the simple things in life and taught us all to do the same.
It is so hard to let you go and say goodbye. I remember telling you when you were two weeks old that if you were tired and had to go it was ok, but if you could, I needed you to fight. And fight you did. You gave us 2 1/2 years of pure joy. Your relationship with your daddy is something that I will treasure forever. Watching you two warmed my heart everyday. You inherited your daddy’s crazy dance moves and weren’t shy about showing them off. I am so grateful that we have so much video of you dancing like a maniac and laughing hysterically the whole time.
You touched so many people in your short time here. You were an amazing, resilient, strong and happy little boy. I feel honored to be your mommy and I am so lucky that I had you. I find it very difficult to adequately express what a joy you were to everyone around you. You had a sparkle in those big blue eyes that set you apart. I know every mom thinks their child is special, but I truly believe that you were a special gift that I was given.
I loved you with every fiber of my soul and I know you felt that love and returned it ten fold. I am so thankful that somehow we all knew to live life to the very fullest and be able to look back with no regrets.
Goodbye my sweet baby boy, I will always be your mommy and your spirit will continue to live on in everyone that loved you.
Letter From Dad
Being a dad is the greatest job in the world, and nothing in my life has ever been more important to me. In the 2 ½ years that Kevin was with us, I got to be the dad of the silliest, most entertaining, and most inspirational little boy that I’ve ever met. I am so thankful for every moment I got to spend with that little man and how he changed my life for the better.
Kevin taught me that even against the worst odds, there is always hope. Never give up. And even if your life story is short, you can still live every day to the fullest. Kevin never realized he was born with a heart that was not meant to work correctly. Sure, he had many doctor visits and checkups and x-rays and he took 3 medicines every morning and night. But to him this was just every day life, and a minor distraction from pulling the wagon around, riding his toy car, watching Baby Einstein, and having dance parties on the fireplace ledge. It didn’t matter to Kevin that his days may be limited – he lived every one to the fullest and with no regrets. He taught me that even if I had yard work to do and a long list of things to get done, none of that was as important as taking a walk or just laying in the hammock together for an hour.
There was just something about the way Kevin carried himself that was unique. He had a special way of walking and swinging his arms that looked he was ready to conquer the world. He was so proud of his jumping ability, even though he never once quite made it off the ground. He loved to run down the hallway in his running shoes, yelling “run! run!” and thinking that was just the silliest thing ever. His dance moves are some of the best I’ve ever seen, with his elbow-up-in-the-air move that always entertained.
Kevin loved keys – especially my keys. Every night when I got home from work, I would hear him yell “daddy!” as I came up the stairs, but I knew that what he really wanted was to play with my keys. I always made him give me a big hug first and he would pat my back and say “awww” but then immediately focus on the keys. Once he had them he would find the lock button on the remote and push it until he heard the car beep in the garage and he would say “beep!” as if he had done his job.
Little boy, I already miss you more than I can even express. I miss watching you sit on the lawnmower for 45 minutes, pretending to drive it and never wanting to get down. I miss taking walks down the street and bike rides around the neighborhood with you yelling “whee!” as we go around corners. I miss reading you books – especially “Goodnight Baby” every night before bed. I miss brushing our teeth together in the morning, and you handing me my razor and saying “daddy?” because you knew it was the one you weren’t allowed to play with. I miss your little quirks that made you who you are, and your passion for everyday things that made you happy. You loved your foam coffee cups for some odd reason, and that made us smile. I miss hearing you say “yeth!” and “more!” and you giving me five. I miss your gentle head lean during hugs and your random puckering of lips, wanting a kiss. I miss the joy and happiness that you brought to our house every single day.
At a time like this, it’s natural to wonder how to talk to me and Dawn, what to say and what not to say, and what will bring us comfort. Let me share my feelings.
Love your children. Play with them around us and make them giggle. Enjoy them. Seeing kids play reminds us of the good times that we enjoyed with Kevin.
Laugh. Although we are grieving, we can’t imagine our life without jokes and laughter. It helps us to relieve stress and have moments of escape which we need so much. Laughing does not mean we don’t miss our boy. It means we are living life how he taught us to.
Share your memories with us. Tell us about the things that you loved about Kevin, and special memories that you have. Tell us that he made you smile. If something reminds you of him, tell us. Don’t worry that you will say or do something that will remind us of Kevin and make us upset. We want to be reminded. We want to know that he mattered to people, and that their lives were changed by knowing him. We want to know that he was an important part of your life. We want to know that he will be missed and remembered, and can still bring a smile to peoples’ faces after he has gone.
One of my favorite quotes says “Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.” My favorite memories of Kevin are all the little everyday things. Although he was only with us for 2 ½ years, we have so many happy memories and he has changed so many lives.
Goodbye little boy. Your daddy misses you, and loves you so, so much.