Cassidy’s Passing

On February 24, 2026, at 6:30pm, Cassidy passed away at home.

He was surrounded by love. His parents were there. Chelsea, Jenny, Kate, Mo, Ashley, and Kim were there. So many of our neighbors filled the room and the spaces just outside it. The house that had carried so much of this journey held him as he took his final breaths.

It was peaceful and absolutely heartbreaking.

There are no words that fully capture what it feels like to watch the person you love most leave this world. There is a sacred stillness in those final moments — a quiet that feels both heavy and holy. His breathing slowed. We held his hands. We told him we loved him. We told him it was okay.

And then he was gone.

He fought longer and harder than anyone should ever have to. Through surgeries, chemo, radiation, confusion and exhaustion, and a body that kept asking more of him than it had left to give. He showed courage in ways most people will never fully understand.

But in the end, it wasn’t about fighting. It was about love.

It was about bringing him home. It was about a room full of people who loved him fiercely, whispering gratitude and permission and memories into the air.

He did not leave this world alone, he left it surrounded.

The house is impossibly quiet now. His absence is loud in a way I cannot explain. I keep expecting to hear him. To reach for him. To need to adjust a pillow or check a monitor.

Instead, there is stillness.

I don’t have wise words right now. I don’t have meaning neatly packaged. I only know that loving him was the greatest privilege of my life.

Thank you to everyone who walked this road with us. Who brought food. Who sent prayers. Who donated. Who sat in hospital rooms. Who showed up when it mattered most.

We will be gathering to celebrate Cassidy’s life on March 15th at 12:00pm at Coors Field in Denver, Colorado.

It feels fitting to honor him there — in a place that holds so many memories, so many conversations, so many of his favorite moments. Baseball was never just a game to him. It was connection. It was joy. It was summer nights and statistics and hope for “next season.”

This celebration will not be formal or heavy in the traditional sense. It will be a space to remember him fully — his humor, his loyalty, his stubborn streak, his love for the Rockies, his deep devotion to family and friends. We want stories. We want laughter. We want the kind of gathering that feels like him.

All who loved him are welcome.

Please feel free to RSVP here. The goal is to be surrounded by the community that carried us through this chapter means more than I can put into words.

He deserved to be celebrated loudly. And we intend to do just that.

For now, I am holding onto this: He was deeply loved, he loved deeply, and he left this world wrapped in the arms of the people who mattered most.