My words for Kev (Greg)

The following is Kevin’s Eulogy, exactly as I wrote for his funeral on September 3, 2021. I added photos when I created this post in December of 2021.

Kevin was my younger brother, and he would be honored to know that all of you came here today to mourn his loss. My name is Greg Caporaso and I want to thank you on behalf of my mom Barbara, my dad Jim, and my whole family for joining us last night at Kevin’s visitation and for being here for today’s service. The support from our family, our friends, and everyone who loved Kevin is getting us through this difficult time. 

When I think back on my time with Kevin, the first thing I think of is laughing. We didn’t always laugh - like all siblings, sometimes we didn’t get along. But the main thing that comes to mind when I think of Kevin is laughing. Throughout everything we did, we could make each other laugh, and no one could get me laughing as hard, as consistently, as Kevin could. 

I’m two and a half years older than Kevin, so I don’t remember him not being around. The earliest memories I have are probably from the back seat of Mom and Dad’s cars. I remember us sitting on the floor in the back seat swapping cassette tapes to listen to on our Walkmans until the tapes wore out and broke. 

My earliest memories of Kevin also include us running up and down Crocker Street - Kevin, and probably me as well, wouldn’t always bother putting shoes on. So our knee high tube socks would flop behind us covered in mud. I remember us crossing Harvard Ave to hang out at the Kaplans’ house, and Kevin accidentally jumping on the freshly poured concrete for the Kaplan’s hut tub. And I remember us venturing up and down Harvard Ave, and to and from Hewitt School when we started riding our bikes around the neighborhood. 

I remember us filming movies and building clubhouses in the backyard at Aunt Susie and Uncle Morgan’s house. 

I remember us taking the “happy bus” to Disneyworld from Aunt Cathy and Uncle Tony’s house. 

And I remember us harassing the cows that lived behind Aunt Fran and Uncle Richie’s house. That was provoked by my cousin Julie of course, because what would two little boys from Long Island know about cows? 

As we started to grow up, the times we had the most fun together was when we were skiing. And we skied in a lot of beautiful places together. Starting with Bromley Mountain, then to Mt Snow and Killington, to Breckenridge and Vail, to Snowbird, Whistler, and even back-country helicopter skiing in British Columbia. He was a great skier, and when he was a kid he could ski bumps all day. 

Kevin and I lived in Boulder at the same time for about a year, and I think that was the time when we were the closest. It was his first time away from home, and I was so far away from home, that we were each other’s supports. I was a junior in college when Kevin was a freshman, and his dorm was right near the engineering building where I had classes.

During his second semester there, neither of us had class on Thursday morning, so we had a tradition of getting together on Wednesday nights and staying up too late drinking beer, listening to music, and watching movies. 

And that leads me into another thing that floods my mind when I think of Kevin: music. We both loved music since we were kids, and he had such diverse interest in music. Classic rock, like Dylan, The Dead, and Steely Dan, was something we could always connect on. He also loved jazz, rap, funk - just about anything. 

I’d get text messages from him say things like: “I just listened to The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. I forgot how good it is. Do me a favor and put that album on right now.” 

We didn’t live near each other when we were older, but we talked and texted regularly. He always made sure to keep me in the loop about what was going on with Mom and Dad. When one of them would do something impressive on the golf course, he would make sure I knew about it so I could call  them. And because I’m not a golfer, his message would usually involve some sort of description of why what they did was impressive. For example, back in June Kevin messaged me saying: “Call Dad after work today. He shot his age in golf this morning. I know it sounds weird, but it’s a really big deal. Very rare to do.” 

He was so thoughtful like that, and he was so proud of my Mom, my Dad, and I. I could see it in his eyes when he’d introduce me to his friends: “This is my big brother Greg. Don’t we look alike?”

I know Kevin admired me, and I can only hope now that he knew how much I admired him. I admire how personable he was. I admire how he could get the whole room laughing. I admire how he could turn casual acquaintances into the closest of friends, which we saw evidence of so many times last night. 

When my wife Shelli and my stepson Liam came into our lives, Kevin was quick to love them and adopt them as part of our family. He would always refer to Liam as “my nephew,” as in “Did my nephew have a good time in Florida?” or “Does my nephew need ice cream on the way home from the beach?” or “Please don’t tell me that my nephew hasn’t seen The Karate Kid.” 

Like most of you who were close with Kevin know, the most common text messages you’d get from him were movie quotes. Kevin and I would have text message conversations that were entirely composed of quotes from Steve Martin movies. I know I’m not the only one who had these conversations with Kevin, and I also know that regardless of what obscure movie he was quoting at the time, Kevin’s true message to me, and to you, with those messages was “I love you and I’m thinking about you.” 

I want to conclude by again thanking you all for being here for today. It means so much to my family and I to feel your love and support, and to be with so many of the people who loved Kevin. 

Kevin had more love and friends in his short life than many people have in long lives. 

I hope you’ll join us after the mass today at the St Agnes Parish Center for a reception where we can get together and share stories and hugs. On that note, and taking a cue from my little brother Kevin, I’ll wrap up with a quote from a favorite movie of his, The Big Chill:

"Amazing tradition: they throw a great party for you on the one day they know you can't come."