10/24/2026
Today, Mitch, you were able to break free from the chains of suffering and pain.
While we all are terribly sad to finally come face to face with this inevitable day, I find myself deeply conflicted.
I’m heartbroken for Brenda and their 3 boys. I’m sure they are overwhelmed right now and will continue to be so for a significant period of time. Their world is different now, but with our ongoing support, they’ll be ok.
I hope they can take comfort from knowing what an impact Mitch had on so many in the short time he was with us. The friendships that will endure, the lessons he taught, either by words or actions, the stories that will be, and should continue to be shared, and the example he set for his young wrestlers and ball players, aspiring artists, the students he mentored as a teacher, the relationships he built as a business owner, and the friendships he developed will carry on as long as we keep him in our hearts and in our thoughts.
I’m sad because I won’t be able to look out into the crowd at a wrestling match and see his face. One of my favorite things to do when Chase was wrestling was to search the crowd for Mitch, because he could never sit still in the bleachers and moved around constantly, and I never knew where he’d pop up. Maybe in the top row up in a corner or sometimes in the first row, close to mat side.
I’m sad that I won’t be able to have more conversations with Mitch about Chase’s college baseball career or Victory League baseball, about his absolute love of hunting and the outdoors or in most recent times, our talks revolved more about his struggles and things he still wanted to do while he had the time. I got the real sense that he had come to grips with his situation and was dealing with it with bravery and strength, and I could only marvel at his ability to stay so positive despite what he knew lay ahead.
And while I think about this and write this, I realize that a lot of what I’m selfishly sad over is because of things that I will miss. I guess that’s natural but having visited Mitch at the hospital and recently at his home, I could see the effects that the cancer was taking on him.
Mitch wasn’t one to complain, he was the type of guy to face things head on and just deal with it. But I could see the pain and suffering. And while I’m sad for all of us that no longer will be blessed to be in his company here on earth, in my heart, I’m happy that my friend no longer is in pain. I know that the smile he wears now isn’t a smile to mask the pain from others, it’s a smile he wears because he’s now at peace and pain-free.
And the thought that comforts me is that Mitch is now in a place where there’s always a good ballgame going on, where it’s always a crisp fall morning with the promise of a good hunt to be had, and where he’ll be waiting for me when it becomes my turn to make that journey.
Mitch, you were a true friend to me, a devoted husband and father to your family, and I will cherish our time together always.
I was out driving just the other day and came upon this trail that led up a small hill, over the rise and disappeared into the woods, and thought to myself “that’s how I’ll try to remember Mitch, that he’s out there, out of sight. But he IS out there, being happy.”
Rick Grammond
