What I left out son….is the bond we shared for the last 18-months was like going backwards in time before you were finding your footing and independence was beautiful. As a young adult and having to be totally reliant on your mom had to be quite a thing to reconcile. You were really mad and annoyed with me at times, and I understood. I am grateful for how much grace and kindness you showed your grieving mom from day one. I grieved for each diagnosis, each surgery, each chemo treatment, every setback, and for all you had lost along the way. I was your cheerleader to celebrate all the small victories. I put on a warrior face and became your beacon of strength and hope. I advocated every minute of every day to ensure your care was the best. I challenged professionals with my expectations to do better, be better. I made them see you well as motivation for all on #TeamKyle. We learned how to communicate without words or sight. You could hear my whispers from across the room and your heart rate always lowered with mom’s touch and voice.

I also forgot to mention in your life sketch about how you were one with nature, one with the changing tides and lakes, and one with the sun and moon. You never missed an opportunity to take in the sunset, the moon, and stars. There are more pictures in your phone of the beauty around you outside than memes or friends, especially during it all. You never took them for granted, like you knew somehow you may never see one again in physical form. My hope is now you get to see sunsets and stars across the universe with all the good feels.

Through it all you always finished our I love you forever and ever’s with and always and our because forever’s with never ends!

I will keep whispering to you always.

I love and miss you Kyle 💜. Mom

- Warrior Mom -Heather

I was so saddened  when I heard the news of Kyle's passing. 

He was the sweetest boy,  a snappy dresser, and wicked smart. 

Our family enjoyed all the mtn bike rides, races, and trips with the Bevans.  We are grateful for the friend Kyle was to Floyd. 

Dear Kyle,

I keep thinking about all the places we went.

Not on a map—but out past where the trail gets loose, the air gets thinner, and everyone else starts to wonder if maybe we should turn around. You never wondered that. You just kept riding.

I remember watching you on those mountain bike trails—the way you’d drop in without hesitation, like gravity was just a suggestion. You weren’t reckless. You were alive. Completely, unapologetically alive. You crashed sometimes, sure. We all did. It was as if the fall was just part of the story you couldn’t wait to tell.

Moab felt like it belonged to you. The red dirt, the endless sky, the quiet at night when the stars took over everything. Sitting around camp, legs tired, hands dusty, laughing about nothing and everything. You had this way of making ordinary moments feel permanent. Like time slowed down just enough for everyone to realize, this—this right here—matters.

And then there were the hospital rooms. A different kind of trail. No dirt. No views. Just beeping machines and long days. But somehow, impossibly, you were still you. Giving us thumbs up. Pushing thru rehab. Smiling in a way that made it feel like maybe the mountain wasn’t as steep as it looked. You showed more courage in those rooms than most people show in a lifetime. Not loud courage. Quiet courage. The kind that changes people forever just by witnessing it.

You taught me a new way to keep showing up. To keep fighting. To keep laughing. To keep being yourself when it would be easier not to be.

Kyle, you weren’t just someone I coached. You reminded all of us why we ride in the first place—not to finish faster, not to be better than anyone else—but to feel free.

And you were free. In every sense of the word.

I hope wherever you are, the trails are endless. The climbs are worth it. The descents are fast and smooth. And the sky is that same deep, impossible blue you loved so much.

Thank you for letting me ride alongside you, Kyle. It was the greatest privilege I’ll ever have.

We’ll carry you with us. Every ride. Every climb. Every time we choose to keep going.

Always your coach. Always a second mom.

❤️ The "other" KB