Tribute

Kevin Fitzner was a treasured and devoted husband, father, son, brother, and friend. He will be missed every day for the compassionate, insightful, and kind person he was. He didn’t have a mean bone in his body, had a strong belief in his faith, was a proud family man and excellent provider, and was a respected businessman. He spent his early years growing up at Camp Tahosa, a camp located in the foothills west of Denver that served Boy Scouts of America units beginning in 1938. It was a place he spoke about with fond memories and always cherished. He played football in high school, a sport he would introduce me to and one we would find ourselves talking about many decades later as our favorite teams battled it out on the gridiron. In a way, that’s how I think of him now that he has gone to heaven. He was a sort of gridiron player for me whether I was 3 years old or 43 years old. Tough but compassionate. Strong but sensitive. A genuine and loving man who was full of life. He was always there to lend a helping hand or just be a sounding board, teaching me to make pros and cons lists for every big decision I faced. As I think back on my childhood with my dad, many memories come to mind. There was the time I decided it would be a good idea to climb our wood fence barefoot and got hundreds of splinters in my feet. He spent two hours painstakingly removing every splinter with tweezers as I fought through tears. And there was the time years later when I forgot to use the emergency brake on my car, and it rolled down a boat ramp into a lake. He always joked about my response, which was a frantic phone call saying, “Dad, first of all, I’m sorry,” before trying to explain what happened. We would laugh about it later because that’s the kind of relationship we had. There are a million memories, but I think one story says it all. When I was 12 and in Little League, I was playing first base on a dirt baseball field that resembled a gravel pit more than it did a baseball diamond. A kid hit a hard one right at me and, at the last second, the ball hit a rock, changed trajectory, and smacked me in my nose and left eye. My dad ran out to try to help stop the bleeding as I stood there in shock. He rushed me to the closest urgent care center where I received treatment for my injuries. I had quite a shiner and my nose was broken, but I was back on the field two weeks later. That was another thing he taught me: When you fall down when it hurts, and when you don’t think you can go on, get up and try again. Winners become winners because they know how bad it feels to lose. I mention all of this in my remembrance of him as always being there, always having my back, regardless of how foolish I was or whatever trouble I managed to find. I always felt safe knowing that my dad was a man who took care of his family and loved us unconditionally. I feel the same way to this day, pops. We miss you. With love, Scott Siders

Friends & Family

Kevin is survived by: Lin Fitzner, Scott Siders, Kirk and Carolyn Fitzner and family, Ed and Cherie Jaros and family, Many friends