It began like any spring afternoon—sunlight spilling through new leaves, the air humming with life. A man stepped outside, breathing in the promise of the season. He never noticed the tiny traveler that hitched a ride on his sleeve. Small as a sesame seed. Silent as a shadow.
Days later, he felt it: a whisper of fever, a weariness deeper than tired bones. Nothing alarming. Nothing that wouldn’t pass. But that whisper grew into a shout—headaches that stole his thoughts, nausea that refused comfort, a mind clouded as if behind frosted glass. Within weeks, a diagnosis no one expected: Powassan virus, carried by a tick so small, it vanished in the grass.
Kevin Boyce left this world on a quiet morning in May 2024. His family’s grief is still raw, like an open window on a cold night. Yet in their sorrow, they choose to speak—not to frighten, but to warn. Not to dwell in darkness, but to light a path for others.
What the Family Wants You to Know
This isn’t a story about rare tragedy.
It’s a story about ordinary moments—
a walk in the woods,
a child chasing butterflies,
a father mowing the lawn on a Saturday morning—
where something unseen can change everything.
Powassan virus isn’t like Lyme disease. It moves with quiet urgency:
→ Swells the brain within days
→ Steals clarity before a diagnosis is even named
→ Leaves even strong bodies fighting for breath
Kevin’s doctors tried everything. But some storms move too fast for anchors.
The Quiet Courage of Sharing
Speaking publicly isn’t easy for those who loved him.
Every interview pulls back the curtain on moments they’d rather hold gently.
But they return to two truths:
- Prevention is possible.
- Awareness is a form of love.
They don’t ask for fear.
They ask for attention.
Practical Grace: How to Walk Gently with the Wild
These aren’t rules—they’re small acts of care your family can practice together:
Before You Step Outside
→ Wear light-colored clothing (ticks show up like dark specks on cream linen)
→ Tuck pants into socks and sleeves into gloves when walking deep woods or tall grass
→ Spray repellent on shoes, cuffs, and hats (20–30% DEET or picaridin—safe for adults and children over 2 months)
After You Return Home
→ Check like you’re searching for a lost button:
- Scalp and hairline (use a mirror)
- Behind ears and under arms
- Waistbands and sock lines
- Behind knees and between toes
→ Shower within 2 hours—soap washes away unattached ticks
→ Tumble clothes in a hot dryer 10 minutes before washing (heat kills hitchhikers)
When in Doubt, Speak Up
→ If you find a tick or feel unwell after time outdoors:
✓ Note the date and location of exposure
✓ Take a photo of the tick (if possible)
✓ Tell your doctor: “I was in wooded/grassy areas on [date] and now have [symptoms].”
→ Early treatment matters—even for rare viruses.
A Closing Blessing for Every Step You Take
Kevin’s family doesn’t want you to fear the woods.
They want you to love them wisely.
Nature isn’t the enemy.
The enemy is inattention.
The cure is tenderness—for the earth, for your body, for the ones who wait for you at home.
So the next time you step outside:
→ Pause at the threshold.
→ Whisper gratitude for the wildness around you.
→ Then take one small act of care:
a spritz of repellent on your wrist,
a glance at your child’s collar,
a promise to check each other’s backs when you return.
These aren’t burdens.
They’re quiet promises:
“I will come home to you.”
Kevin’s story cannot be rewritten.
But yours can.
And in that space—between the tick and the telling—
lives the power to protect what matters most.
—
With deep respect for Kevin Boyce and the family who chooses to turn grief into grace.
