Michael McGuirk

Michael George McGuirk was born on July 19, 1948, to Myrtle and George McGuirk of Arlington, Virginia. He attended St. Thomas Moore Elementary and played on the Arlington County Black Nights football team through his grade school years. He then went to O’Connell Catholic High School where he became a star football player and captain of the team. In his senior year, he transferred to and played football for Flynt Hill Preparatory School where he graduated in 1966. Mike then received a football scholarship to play for East Carolina University in Greenville, North Carolina, and received his business degree in 1970. Mike was on the 1970 ECU team that played Marshall University, in which ECU won the game. But Mike’s exhilaration of victory was short-lived. The flight returning the Marshall players and coaches to Huntington, West Virginia crashed with all 75 souls onboard. This event at such a young age cemented Mike’s instincts to make a positive contribution to the community while you can.

Throughout his college career, Mike spent his summers in Ocean City, Maryland. He started as a lifeguard on 7th Street Beach and finished his beach patrol career five years later as a crew chief. Skiing was another passion of Mike’s. After graduating from college, he spent his winters with some of his Ocean City friends working at New England ski resorts.

In 1974, Mike married his sweetheart Victoria, a Phillips Crab House girl. They moved to Port Orange, Florida to open and manage a Pappy’s restaurant with another Ocean City friend. Not satisfied with his career, Mike took postgraduate courses in computer science and applied for a job with Computer Science Corporation at the Kennedy Space Center in 1981. Over the course of a 31-year career, he rose to be a manager for Firing Rooms 1 and 2 of the Space Shuttle Program. He liked to joke that on launch day, he was the one to “light the fuse” and run. He also worked for Grumman and United Space Alliance before retiring in 2012. For several years after he retired, Mike coached football at Spruce Creek High School and then Father Lopez Catholic High School.

In 1977 and 1980 respectively, Mike and Victoria’s daughter Kristine and son Matthew were born. During this period, the couple became very involved in the community. They were co-founders of the Port Orange Pop Warner football league. Mike was a coach and Football Commissioner for years and watched the Pop Warner Program grow and flourish. Mike and Victoria’s biggest joy in their later years was Kristine’s marriage to Jon Reed in 2010 and then the birth of their granddaughter, Mia Mattison in 2012 and grandson, Clyde Michael in 2014!

Throughout his life, Mike was always a positive force in his community. Whether in football or Beach Patrol, he stayed in contact and participated in reunions and events. He always took the initiative to keep his Ocean City friends and East Carolina friends close. He found a legendary lifeguard from the ’50s, living in Titusville – Lucky Jordan, and brought him back to Ocean City for reunions. Mike also belonged to the Port Orange Ship Modelers Club for years.

Mike and Victoria also dealt with personal tragedy. Their son Matt struggled with addiction after being sexually abused as a young boy by his teacher. He testified in 1989 to put his predator in prison for 150 years. Sadly, Matt passed away from an accidental drug overdose in 2011. Mike and Victoria overcame their grief by starting the Straight Up SolGier Foundation to help others in situations like Matt’s. Straight Up SolGier Foundation has helped hundreds of local kids and adults get FREE counseling. Recently, Mike and Victoria handed the reins over to a new board of directors who will continue the amazing work the McGuirk family started.

Along with the posthumous contribution to the community through the SolGier foundation, Mike is still contributing to the football community as well. His brain was studied at the UNITE Brain Bank where researchers diagnosed him with stage 4 (of 4) CTE. Although Mike loved football, it probably contributed to his mental decline about a decade ago. He is survived by his wife, Victoria, daughter Kristine Reed, her husband Jon Reed, and their children Mia and Clyde Reed.

Tom McHale

 

Beloved husband, father, son, and brother 

When he died in May, 2008, at the age of 45, Tom McHale became the second former NFL player diagnosed with CTE by the research team at the CSTE at Boston University School of Medicine. Tom was my husband, the father of my children, brother to four siblings, and my very best friend. I hope that sharing Tom’s story will bring attention to the very misunderstood and unappreciated danger of concussions. I hope to help others understand just how devastating the long-term impact of repetitive sports-related head trauma can potentially be. I would hope that the awareness of these consequences will lead to a profound cultural change in how we perceive and respond to sports-related, and other, head trauma.

Tom and I met in August, 1986, as I was entering my sophomore year at Cornell University. I was just 19 years old; he was 23. I was a manager in charge of the defensive line for the Cornell Big Red and Tom was a defensive lineman.

Tom was kind of “larger than life” on the Cornell team. He had given up a full scholarship and a starting position on the defensive line at the University of Maryland to transfer to the Ivy League university to attend Cornell’s top-rated School of Hotel Administration. He’s been described by many to have been in a class all his own, breaking school records and earning All-American honors. When his years of eligibility were up at Cornell, Tom went on to play nine years in the NFL with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, the Philadelphia Eagles, and the Miami Dolphins.

Tom loved football; but it, by no means, defined him. It was his character that made Tom stand out. I never saw in him even the hint of a suggestion that he thought himself better than another. He filled a room with his presence and always drew a crowd around him. Yet he left so many who met him with the feeling that they had been the most important person in the room and that Tom had been riveted by whatever they had to say.

It always seemed that Tom had goals for his life, and he expected to succeed. He had a great deal of confidence in his abilities and he was proud of his accomplishments; but he never allowed success to go to his head. He always maintained that the ability to play football at its highest level is a God-given gift and he was grateful for the opportunity.

He was passionate about life. He had a beautiful smile and he smiled often. He loved music. He was fascinated by world history. He was enamored by, and gifted in the art, of cooking. But most of all, he was passionate about his faith, unswerving in his desire to do what is right, extremely devoted to his family, and incredibly loyal to his friends.

Tom and I were married on February 3, 1990. We were married for eighteen years and I truly believe that Tom brought me more happiness during those eighteen years than most people will experience in a lifetime.

We had three sons over the years. TJ was born in 1994, Michael in 1998; and Matthew followed in 1999. Tom was devoted to his boys and they adored their father, their coach, their hero.

The fairy tale ended on May 25, 2008 when Tom died from an accidental overdose. It’s still hard to believe it could have ended so tragically. And I still cannot revisit the memory of that day without experiencing physical pain. But truly, looking back, I realize that Tom had been slipping away from us for some time. It just became official and final on May 25th.

There is no way to adequately describe the change in Tom over the years except to say that it was so gradual that I’m not sure when I actually became aware of it. I just know that there came a day several years before he died that I could no longer deny that there was something terribly wrong with my husband. The man that I so admired had become like a shell of his former self, almost as if the spark was slowly being extinguished. And the man that remained made me feel at times that I was living with a stranger.

It wasn’t as though this stranger was a bad guy. He wasn’t. He just wasn’t my Tom. The man who once loved to get up and watch the sun rise had trouble getting out of bed at all. The eternal optimist who approached goals with great confidence had difficulty following through on his intentions.

The man who relished his friends and his family picked up the phone less and less frequently. The man who used to plan lunch while eating breakfast and plan dinner while eating lunch even began, more often than not, leaving the cooking to me.

What appeared to be symptoms of depression may have first come to my attention when Tom complained one night that the pain that he lived with as a result of so many years of pro ball had become too great to be on his feet all day.

He said that owning and operating restaurants, that which he had dreamed of since he had been a boy, was no longer enjoyable. He got out of the business. But that didn’t help. Eventually, he got help for his depression and we hoped that that would be the answer. It wasn’t.

Then one day, Tom confided that he was physically dependent on doctor prescribed pain meds. And so began a terrifying and difficult battle against opiate addiction. And as crazy as it may sound, I was relieved because I now had an explanation for what had happened to my husband and that brought me hope that I would one day have him back.

I believe that Tom fought with everything he had left in him to win that battle. But even in the absence of the drugs, I didn’t see my old Tom return. Though there were glimpses, they didn’t last. And I became increasingly concerned that there was something else going on and more and more afraid that I would never have back the incredible man I married.

When Tom died, I had never heard of CTE, nor did I have the slightest suspicion that the changes I had been seeing in my husband had anything to do with his lifetime of participating in contact sports. And yet when I learned of his diagnosis and saw images of his brain, when I heard Dr. McKee’s explanation of the pathological findings…that Tom’s brain exhibited significant pathology in areas that control inhibitions, impulsivity, insight, judgment, memory, and emotional lability,…my heart ached. But, for the first time in a long time, I felt I was beginning to understand.

I often wonder what Tom would have thought if he had heard of CTE. I wonder whether it would have made a difference for him to know that his inability to live up to the expectations he set for himself might actually have had a neurological cause.

I know that for me, for our boys, and for the many loved ones he left behind, knowing had made a tremendous difference. I have no doubt that I would have agonized over the years, wondering whether it was possible that CTE had been a factor in my husband’s struggles and ultimately in his death.

I’m extremely grateful for the insight that his diagnosis provides. I’m even more grateful to the researchers at the CSTE for their dedication and determination to discover how to diagnose, treat, and prevent this devastating disease so that future athletes need not experience the kind of turmoil that Tom experienced and that their families need not endure the agony of watching helplessly from the sideline.

I know that everyone who had the pleasure of knowing Tom during his lifetime would agree what a tremendous loss was brought about by his death. It is my fervent hope and prayer that all who knew and loved Tom will help me keep the memory of him alive for our boys so that they will remember him as he had been and will grow up to proudly be just like their dad.

Click here to read the New York Times article.

Click here to watch a video about Tom McHale.

 

 

John McKenna

John was a true son of Boston, and lived his adult life in the South End.  He was a man of action whose life was rooted in fairness and justice, and who found a kindred spirit in his wife of 49 years, Kathe.

When they saw homeless sleeping in doorways in the South End in the mid 1960’s, they provided hospitality, inviting them to sleep in their living room. When the need to feed, clothe and shelter the homeless exceeded the space in their apartment on Upton Street, together with like-minded friends they purchased 23 Dartmouth Street and founded Haley House of Hospitality.

The new non-profit now had a home, but it also had bills, so John– with pick and shovel in hand –dug graves at Brook Farm cemetery, giving his paycheck to Haley House. Founded as a simple Catholic Worker Soup Kitchen, Haley House currently serves homeless and marginalized individuals in 100+ units of affordable housing in the South End and two social enterprises in Roxbury: Haley House Bakery Café and Dudley Dough.

While a student at Holy Cross College, and under the threat of expulsion, he joined Dr. Martin Luther King’s 1965 Civil Rights March from Selma to Montgomery. Hosted by an African-American host family, John was picked up by the police on his way to the Edmund Pettus Bridge and locked in a bus with other potential marchers to prevent their participation.

John and Kathe honeymooned on James Meredith’s “March Against Fear.” His responsibility was to walk the perimeter to intervene with night-riders. John also took a firm stance against the war in Vietnam, registering as a conscientious objector in 1967. He was jailed in 1968 and 1969 for his participation in anti-war demonstrations.

In order to support his family, John became an MBTA police officer.  He would serve for 20 years and eventually become head of the patrolmen’s association. While on the force he put himself through law school. Stoop-sitting, a South End tradition is for most an opportunity to enjoy a quiet place to chat. But for John the stoop was also his study hall. After his overnight MBTA shift, John could be found on his steps, law books in hand, preparing for class at Suffolk Law School. The method worked well, as he passed the bar on his first try and practiced law for the next 14 years.  Gov. Weld appointed him to an administrative law judgeship in 1992.

John eventually went back to providing direct care to homeless individuals and families at Pine Street Inn and Sojourner House.  For more than 20 years, John also served as an officer and board member for COMPASS, where his wisdom and integrity helped guide and grow the small special-education school into a multi-service organization assisting at-risk youth and families throughout Boston as well as a dozen other areas in Massachusetts.

John was also a fierce athlete. Be it rugby in Somerville, squash in Roxbury, softball in Brighton or a run around Castle Island, there was no need for stretching or warming up, for there was a game to be played. Unfortunately, his whole-hearted participation in rugged sports would significantly diminish his health later in life.

With multiple jobs and four daughters, John was not one to rest.  His girls once posted a cartoon on their refrigerator entitled “Dad on Vacation.” It depicted a man watching a vacation scene on TV.

In sum, John was a humble hero — not only to family and friends, but to countless souls whose lives he enriched immeasurably through his tireless efforts.  There will be many, in years still to come, who will benefit from his accomplishments without ever knowing his name.

Colin Meany

This article adheres to the Suicide Reporting Recommendations from the American Association of Suicidology.

Sometimes even warriors need to ask for help.

On August 16, 2019, Colin Meany, known as “Patches” to family and close friends, took his own life at the young age of 17 after a two-year battle with significant post-concussion symptoms. It wasn’t until after his tragic death that his family and friends learned the extent of the pain he had been suffering in silence.

Colin was a very popular teenager just a week away from starting his hockey career at the University of Scranton. News of his suicide rocked the Jersey Shore community. Within hours of his death, hundreds of people gathered at a candlelight vigil near his home. Overwhelming emotions of inconsolable grief and shock filled the community. How could Colin Meany, a confident, outgoing student athlete, who always seemed so happy, decide to end a life that seemed so amazing? His own closest friends, who were with him just hours before he died, could not believe what had happened. Later, they began to realize how Colin’s life was deeply impacted by his concussions.

Even the veteran Major Crimes Detectives and other police officers who responded to the Meany home were affected by Colin’s death and discussed how “this one just doesn’t make any sense.”

In a clear and well-thought-out letter to his family and friends, Colin expressed his frustration with his post-concussion symptoms and pain that he fought silently as an athlete. He wrote about his fight with depression and anger for the two years since his concussions. He believed no doctor or medication could help him. He kept those feelings to himself, so others weren’t able to help him find resources for his pain.

Unfortunately, just like so many other athletes, he never fully understood that his painful daily struggles were not uncommon for someone healing from his injuries. Research has shown a link between concussion and suicide risk, with one study finding those who suffer a concussion are twice as likely to take their own lives.

The first concussion

Almost exactly two years earlier, on Labor Day Weekend of 2017, 15-year-old Colin suffered a concussion while playing in a junior hockey game for the Jersey Shore Whalers. Immediately upon speaking with Colin, his father Mike says he knew Colin sustained a significant concussion. During the car ride home Colin told his father it felt like his brain was shaking in his head and he appeared as if he were intoxicated. Without delay, Colin’s parents brought him to a concussion specialist affiliated with a well-known and respected medical center.

During his initial assessment, Colin revealed he sustained what is now believed to be a previous concussion during a game just two weeks before this more severe concussion. When asked by his father why he hadn’t said anything about the prior injury, Colin replied, “I just wanted to keep playing and I knew if I said something I wouldn’t be able to play.”

Approximately three weeks later Colin expressed to his father for the first time in his life thoughts of depression. He texted saying, “This is driving me crazy. I can’t fall asleep, I’m depressed over nothing and it’s just making me mad.”

Colin continued to see the concussion specialist and was medically cleared to return to the ice, which is all he wanted. He once told his older brother Jack he felt his best when he was out on the ice.

Colin returned to play the sport he was so passionate about. He had been playing ice hockey since he was five years old when he started with the Old Bridge Junior Knights. After finally being cleared to play again, he returned to play for the Jersey Shore Whalers and continued to play with his teammates and friends on both the Jersey Shore Wildcats and his high school team at Saint John Vianney High School.

During that time, Colin’s headaches and inability to sleep continued. His parents brought him to a highly respected neurologist who was known for helping patients, including military combat veterans, with post-concussion symptoms. Colin was prescribed medications for the severe headaches.

By all accounts the brief period of depression had been resolved. When repeatedly asked by his parents and during numerous subsequent doctor visits, Colin always denied having any symptoms of depression. None of his family, many friends, teammates, or coaches would have described Colin as depressed or potentially suicidal.

After his death however, Colin’s friends described that after his concussions, Colin would continuously fall asleep in class and would often leave loud parties early (Colin never wanted to miss a party). He would also sometimes want to leave the beach due to the bright sunlight that would cause him to have severe headaches. But he never complained or asked for help.

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, suicide is a complex public health concern, and there is no single cause. Suicide is often preventable and most often occurs when stressors and health issues converge to create an experience of hopelessness and despair.

After Colin’s death, his parents also learned he was texting himself sports-related motivational reminders. It became apparent he knew he needed help but tried to cope on his own.

The hockey community comes together

Suicide impacts communities in profound ways. The outpouring of love and support from the hockey community after Colin’s death was a true testament to his character. More than 1,000 people including so many young men wearing their hockey team jerseys attended the funeral services for their beloved teammate. The young men all described Colin as a tough, gritty, and loyal teammate who always had their back on the ice and made them laugh on bus rides and in the locker room. Even members of rival teams paid their respects and described Colin as a well-respected opponent.

In such a sad and obvious way, the faces of the young people, just like the faces of so many others who attended Colin’s services, were the same. They all showed overwhelming emotions of grief, fear, and confusion. Once again so many people attending the services said, “this just doesn’t make any sense.” Colin kept his struggles to himself.

“Colin was a tremendous teammate and always played with high energy and tenacity,” said Hugh Donoghue, one of Colin’s youth hockey coaches. “Colin was a skilled goal scorer and always found the back of the net when our team needed it the most. I will forever remember his smile and enthusiasm. We were down a goal or two in a game and he said to me don’t worry coach, we got this. True to form he tied the game up and assisted on the winning goal. Colin was beloved and respected by his teammates and coaches.”

Mick Messemer, the current and long-time head ice hockey coach at Saint John Vianney High School who coached Colin for years, described Colin as “one of the best teammates to ever put on a Lancer uniform, regardless of sport.”

“Colin’s love for his school, program, and teammates both on and off the ice will live on forever,” Messemer said.

He also noted that Colin’s work ethic to be the best player he could be was well respected by the locker room and coaching staff.

Even a long-time Jersey Shore hockey referee felt compelled to talk about Colin. Paul Murray described how he spent many hours on the ice with Colin as a referee.

“I enjoyed them all and had so many conversations in between whistles and face offs,” Murray said. “He was genuine, he was funny, he was tough. He was a great kid on the ice, and I enjoyed every interaction with him.”

The Meany family continued to see an outpouring of love and support.

On October 27, 2019, the University of Scranton Ice Hockey Team played the New Jersey Institute of Technology in a Colin Meany Charity game. At the game, Colin’s parents Mike and Karen Meany and his older brother Jack were presented with the #2 Scranton Royals Jersey.

On November 20, 2019, the New Jersey State Policemen’s Benevolent Association Hockey Team played the Saint John Vianney Alumni Hockey Team in the First Annual Colin Meany Memorial Hockey Game. The game was organized by Dan Tacopino, captain of the PBA team who also coached Colin at Saint John Vianney.

There were more than 600 people in attendance to watch the emotional pregame puck drop ceremony when Colin’s father dropped the puck with the PBA Team captain facing off against Jack Meany.

“Colin Meany is one of those kids that you would want on your team,” Coach Tacopino said. “Every sprint he would want to be the fastest, every drill he would want to come out on top, every shift he would want to score or make a big play, and every game he would want to win. Concussion is a serious topic that cannot be overlooked. The fact that Colin put his health aside to assure the team would be successful will show you his dedication and unselfishness he had toward the game he loved. We as coaches, parents, spectators and friends need to assure the health of our athletes. We know a lot of kids who are competitive in their sport and are willing to keep going after an injury. The brain is not a muscle that can recover like a torn tendon or a bruised muscle. You cannot put a cast on your brain or do a certain exercise to rejuvenate it. The brain is a delicate part of the body that needs to be taken more seriously. Colin was a tough athlete and showed no injury. The only time he showed it was when he took his own life. Missing a practice, missing a shift, missing a game can be the difference to a life altering decision. I was Colin’s coach for four years and he always wanted to be the best to ensure his team would be successful. Colin was the true meaning of grit, strength, toughness and heart.”

“Meany was a true warrior,” Jersey Shore sports reporter John Christian Hageny wrote about Colin after the memorial game. “A tough, hard-nosed forward who left it all out on the ice… Injured shoulder in final of the Shore Conference Handchen Cup but kept playing for his SJV team… was a real pleasure covering this young man, rest easy Colin.”

The Meany family wants to thank everyone for their love and support since Colin’s passing. They hope no family has to feel their same unthinkable sorrow. They are pleading to those who are courageously and unselfishly fighting through this battle to speak up about their pain. Mike, Karen, Jack, and Colin’s friends, teammates, and coaches have raised tremendous support for CLF to help prevent future tragedies like Colin’s. We are honored by their generosity after incredible heartbreak and vow to continue to raise awareness, support patients and families, educate the public, and advance research in Colin’s honor. To make a gift to the Concussion Legacy Foundation in Colin’s memory, click here.

Are you or someone you know struggling with lingering concussion symptoms? We support patients and families through the CLF HelpLine, providing personalized help to those struggling with the outcomes of brain injury. Submit your request today and a dedicated member of the Concussion Legacy Foundation team will be happy to assist you.

Suicide is preventable and help is available. If you are concerned that someone in your life may be suicidal, the five #BeThe1To steps are simple actions anyone can take to help someone in crisis. If you are struggling to cope and would like some emotional support, call the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 to connect with a trained counselor. It’s free, confidential, and available to everyone in the United States. You do not have to be suicidal to call. If you’re not comfortable talking on the phone, consider using the Lifeline Crisis Chat.

In August 2021, Colin’s friends honored him

On Sunday, August 8, 2021, many of Colin’s friends and teammates gathered at a basketball court near Colin’s home for a dedication ceremony for a memorial bench in Colin’s name. The basketball court is a place where Colin would often go to work on his agility skills, always striving to be the best hockey player and teammate that he could be.

Eugene Merlino

 

Gene and Kelly Merlino first met in New York City. Gene was charming, generous, good-looking, ambitious, and humorous, all of which initially attracted Kelly to him. The rest, as they say, was history.

As they grew closer, Kelly learned more about Gene’s beginnings: he was full of life and loved all kinds of sports and being active. On land, he could be found playing football, wrestling, skiing, or riding his dirt bikes and motorcycles. In the water, he enjoyed boating, scuba diving, and water skiing. But his first love was always football. He loved the comradery, being part of a team, and the values it instilled in him. He played the sport starting in third grade, throughout high school, and earned a spot on the Army football team at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point.

The Merlinos dated for a few years before getting married in 1998. They settled down in Mendham, NJ and had three sons: Max, Louis, and Ryder. To Gene, nothing was more important than family. Kelly and the boys were his entire world. They spent the summers up at their lake house in the Adirondacks. They always loved having a house full of family and friends. Gene loved entertaining on their boat and teaching kids to water ski and go tubing. Though everything seemed wonderful in the beginning, Kelly sometimes saw flashes of a different Gene.

Gene had been only a few years removed from football by the time the couple met but was already feeling the aftereffects of the numerous concussions he suffered while on the field.

First were the constant migraines. There was frequent times Gene could barely tolerate any light or sound, so at times he had to stay by himself in a basement, in complete darkness, to find relief. Then there were the nosebleeds; Kelly remembers certain moments when he was profusely just gushing blood everywhere.

Still, on the good days, Gene was an amazing husband, father, and friend. He took great pride in providing a stable life for his wife and kids. He coached Max’s football team and made it a priority to attend his children’s games. He loved being a mentor for the players he coached and teaching them about the philosophy of a team sport, which he fully believed could be applied to many aspects of daily life. But eventually, the number of good days started to disappear. Gene experienced periods of brain fog where he could not think straight, organize his thoughts, or recall memories, even if they had occurred recently.

Kelly kept a journal to help herself cope with the changes in Gene. The journals in turn helped to track Gene’s symptoms and the changes in his personality. She didn’t realize until reflecting on the entries how severe the personality and behavioral changes were and how quickly they were happening. Looking back on her entries now, she says her days mostly revolved around trying to help her husband and keep her family safe while her life became entirely consumed by chaos.

“It was terrifying and difficult to process for the entire family,” said Kelly. “We struggled with the question, ‘How does someone you love change before your eyes with no explanation?’”

As Gene entered his 40s, his personality shifted drastically. Each new day brought a waiting game to see how he would act. The majority of the time, Gene’s mood dominated the energy in the home which inevitably trickled down to Kelly and the children. He was unpredictable and could be fine one moment, but moody or frightening the next. Impulsiveness and rage were part of the new normal. The once social Gene became withdrawn, self-destructive, paranoid, overly negative, and not present. He struggled to follow conversations and would get easily frustrated. Work became more and more difficult due to the deteriorating of his executive functioning skills. He struggled with organizing, following directions, and would lose large gaps of time. Sleep became elusive and he’d stay up all night with his mind racing. He could snap at anyone on a whim, from family to strangers.

“Towards the end of his life it was like he was a shell of the man he used to be,” said Kelly. “He would constantly tell us that he was a burden to us all and we would be better off without him.”

In 2013, Gene was featured on a GQ docuseries called Casualties of the Gridiron, which looked at the impact of concussions on football players. Cameras documented his difficulties, Kelly’s experience as a caregiver, and their journey finding help and answers for Gene.

“I have this, I call it sponge head or fog head. It just doesn’t go away,” described Gene of his struggles in one clip. “I wake up every morning and I open my eyes and there it is again. It starts to become so overwhelming.”

Gene continued to battle symptoms in his early-mid 40s before passing away on July 9, 2021 at the age of 55.

Back in 2012, Gene had gone by himself to Boston without telling anyone, wanting to donate his brain to research. He knew he had all the symptoms of CTE and suspected he might have the disease. When Gene returned home, he gave Kelly the official paperwork and let her know he wanted to donate his brain when he passed. After his passing, she fulfilled his wish and his brain was studied at the UNITE Brain Bank, where researchers diagnosed Gene with stage 2 (of 4) CTE.

Upon hearing the results, Kelly, her sons, and family felt relief knowing their suspicions were confirmed. They now had an explanation for why he morphed into a completely different person.

Kelly is sharing her husband’s story to help raise awareness around CTE. For too long, Kelly and her sons felt as if they needed to keep Gene’s behavioral changes a secret which needed to be kept to protect Gene. There was very little help for Gene, for her, or their children. She wants other families to know they are not alone. There are resources available, such as the CLF HelpLine, which can provide personalized support and guidance to anyone struggling from a brain injury.

Her biggest piece of advice to other families and caregivers?

“When they tell you what they’re feeling and experiencing, please believe them, and support them as best as you are able to,” said Kelly.