By Stephanie Nims

When he was thinking about someone, my brother Kirk would often text them a bible verse, a line from a hymn or a meditation. He did this for the people closest to him and people hadn’t spoken to for a while. Kirk made sure everyone felt loved, a sense of hope, forgiveness and peace. 

When Kirk came home for the holidays, he’d always want to know what was on the menu. For Thanksgiving that had to be my grandmother’s giblet gravy. Not everyone wanted it with that liver and giblets and all, but he did. Sometimes he’d promise to bring a dish and forget. But he always left with containers of food for later. 

With his family around the table, Kirk was the commentator, the jokester. He’d always tell stories and tease me, often about something like my current hair color, joking, “Who you let color your hair like that?” It was all in fun. 

We grew up together on Scottsdale Boulevard in Shaker Heights, raised by the two best grandparents we could ever ask for. The nickname given to Kirk was Shorty – who knew you would get to be almost 6 feet tall and (for some) outgrow that name. My brother had so many looks. Sometimes he would wear his hair short, sometimes it would be curly and sometimes he’d have no hair at all. But he always had those dimples, those hazel eyes and that compelling laugh. As far back as elementary school, Kirk loved his suits. He wore them with bold and colorful bow ties and ties. 

Even when he moved to a different state, Kirk stayed in touch all the time. A lot of stuff he didn’t share with other people, he would share with me. Not because I was his sister — we were just close like that. 

My Happy Birthday texts are some that I will miss the most. The last one was:

“Happy Birthday to YOU Happy Birthday to YOU Happy Birthday dear Stephanie Happy Birthday to YOU!” 

I love you more than you will ever know.

And my prayer for you Stephanie is that God bless and keep you-that God turn HIS face toward you and the boys and be gracious unto you that God give you and the boys happiness and peace this day and every day! 

Love You - K35

We were raised in the church, going Saturdays and Sundays. Whether it be Christmas plays, church announcements, ushering, or just running around the church, keeping up with the congregation, we knew he was there.

My brother would always pray for people. That was how he was. People we knew, and even people on the street. A few times, he almost lost his life doing that. One time, when he was in Cleveland, he stopped to pray for a prostitute. Her pimp saw and thought he was trying to take her. I was nearby and heard some loud noises. I went running down the street thinking, “Lord, what has this brother of mine gotten himself into?” When I got there, I tried to defuse the situation. Kirk, of course, paid me no attention. He prayed, and begged for the woman to find another way out. Then, he turned to her “boss” and had some choice words for him. After a while, I finally got Kirk to walk away. Growing up we were always told to speak up, right or wrong. Let’s say Kirk kept me busy on several occasions when he did that.

Other people have told me that they have text messages from Kirk, bits of scripture or a song. Now that he is gone, killed senselessly, they look to those to remember him. 

Everything has a purpose. Everything. Successes. Setbacks Joys Heartaches. Each person you met in your too-short life, each challenge you faced left behind a lesson, a truth.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Jeremiah 29:11. Kirk, my sweet angel’s favorite Bible verse.

Photos by Michael Indriolo