Greg Kilday… A father, husband, and friend. A wonderful man.

Greg’s work family is hoping to raise funds for his wife Kat Jarvis and twin sons Russel and Logan, in order to help get the family through the financial stress of his loss. Below is a special note from his wife Kat.

​I believe with my whole heart that fate made Greg just for me. That sentiment may sound overly sappy to whoever happens to be reading this but allow me to explain.

​The night was January 15th, 2001, and it was cold. Having recently been through a tough emotional time that I won’t get into here, I felt as cold in my heart as the weather outside my window. A rather insistent friend came by my domicile in an attempt to cheer me up, and after some badgering, I relented and put myself together as best I could.

​We went down to a local dive bar, (by dive, I mean the absolute bottom of the deep end and the pool is cracked), and went inside for a drink. My friend’s self-imposed mission was to see me get back on the proverbial dating horse. However, she gave up after a parade of what I can only describe as nothing more than a bunch of pretty boys with one thing on their minds.

​“I’m sorry,” I said to her with a chuckle, “I know what you’re trying to do but you’re going to have to aim a little higher here.”

​“Okay smart ass,” she replied sarcastically, “you pick one.”

​I sipped from my glass and then scanned the busy barroom. There he was, perched on a bar stool playing one of those countertop touch games. He paid no attention to the rest of the room, perfectly intent on what he was doing. In comparison to the other ones I had met that night, this man looked perfectly ordinary.

​“That one,” I said, pointing him out.

​My friend agreed and made the proper introductions and within moments, Greg and I were seated at a table talking about nothing. Small talk at first, but before long the world around us faded away into the background. Conversation came effortlessly for us like we had known each other all our lives.

​We talked the bar closed as well as the after-party and by the time Greg and I parted company that night, we had agreed to continue meeting there. At the time, we didn’t have cell phones or email so in the interest of convenience that’s how we managed.

​Greg and I dated for the next three years simply enjoying each other’s company like any new couple. We spent as much time together as we could outside of our various obligations. As I said earlier, I had been going through a dark time and Greg had my back during those first years. He held me up and lent me his strength. This was new to me because I had always felt alone in all things, especially when things got hard.

​Greg never gave up on me though, nor on my two older sons, whom he took on as if they were his own. After the Great Blackout of 2003, he and I decided to leave Toronto and move to Oshawa. To this day Greg is the only person I know who wanted to move to Oshawa.

​We moved to Oshawa around the same time as Greg’s parents moved off to St. Thomas Ontario, and life had its ups and downs but we dealt with them together. Things were good, and after a while, maybe in late 2004, Greg mentioned he would like to have kids and add to the family. After a few conversations, I agreed because I knew I could count on him and he would be a great father.

​It didn’t take long and I fell pregnant but as happens, not everything in my life ever went according to plan. Sadly, I lost our first baby and we were both heartbroken but as sad as he was, Greg took care of me in every aspect, trying his best to help keep me smiling even in the face of something like that.

​Sometime after, in early June of 2006, I fell pregnant again and at first, things were normal, but it wasn’t long before fate tapped us on the shoulder again with more challenges.

First of all, we had received the news that Greg’s father had been diagnosed with cancer. He was positively gutted.

On top of dealing with that, one morning in the early summer of 2006 on a visit to the ladies’ room I passed what I can only describe as “biological matter”. Naturally, my mind went to the worst-case scenario so Greg and I immediately headed to the doctors. Little did I know, our lives were about to be turned upside down and shaken out all over the floor.

After an emergency ultrasound and some pretty heavy emotions, Greg and I sat there in the examination room in shock. The doctor couldn’t tell us what the “matter” was that I had passed, but he found not one baby, but two.

Twins.

“Oh crap,” Greg said, breaking the silence after the doctor had departed.

“What?” I asked.

“We’re gonna need twice as much stuff!”

“Yep,” I replied.

“Oh crap!” He said again after a moment, “We’re gonna need a bigger car!”

We were both in shock after the news we were just given. “Yep” was all I could manage again.

“OH CRAP,” he repeated a third time, “We’re going to need a bigger house!”

“YEP!” I replied a third time, this time unable to contain my laughter. He and I were leaning on each other both laughing like a pair of loons.

The whole thing sounded so silly, all I could do was giggle. Greg was so good at making me laugh, even when he wasn’t trying to.

We immediately began house shopping, and it wasn’t long before we found the house that we would end up with. That’s when things began to move very fast.

In early November of 2006, I was in a car accident and received slight head trauma after the car I was in was t-boned. Thankfully the babies were unharmed, but Greg spent the next 12 hours watching over me, waking me every two hours.

We took possession of our home on November 15th, 2006 and our moving date was the 25th. Greg and a few friends immediately got to work cleaning the house and getting things ready. I don’t think the man ever stopped, between work and the preparations. He took care of everything, but fate was still far from done with us.

​The morning of the 22nd started much like any other, coffee, breakfast and general chores. There was no shortage of things to do when you’re moving and getting ready for twins at the same time. I had reached down to grab something, a bag on the floor and I felt a clench in my lower tummy. I don’t remember what was in that bag but I remember that clench.

​I thought nothing of it at first, but I spent the rest of the day resting and went to work for 3 pm. Something wasn’t right, and the more time that passed, the worse I felt. I called my boss and asked him to relieve me as I knew I had to go. A friend picked me up and I went straight to the hospital. I told all my friends to call Greg, NOT text, but only one listened. By the time he hung up his phone and left for the hospital he found 17 text messages all of them the same.

​“911! Get to the hospital”

​Greg immediately leaves work and, in a panic thinking it was far too early, heads directly to the hospital. He made it in time and our boys were born prematurely on November 22, 2006. Twenty-four weeks, four days to be exact, Russell weighed in at 1.73 lbs (782g), and Logan at 1.77 lbs (806g).

​In that delivery room were six medical professionals for each tiny scrap of baby. That’s the thought that came to my mind when I saw the poor things. I may have been in shock. Because my boys were born so early, it was unknown how developed their lungs were.

​“I’m sorry Mom,” one of the doctors said to me, “If the boys don’t breathe on their own, I’m afraid there’s very little we can do.”

​Thankfully though, the boys did breathe on their own and they were to be transferred to Woman’s College Hospital in Toronto. However, it was decided that Russel would first visit Sick Kids due to his stats. Just before the boys went on their way, I was told matter-of-factly that because of their conditions, the babies may not make the trip to Toronto. Lovely news. So good for the nerves.

​For some reason, I wasn’t allowed to go with Logan or Russell. I was left an emotional mess with no babies. The boys did make the trip and Greg was my rock. He didn’t falter even once, convincing a nurse to allow my release.

​The bad news train kept roaring into the station over the next days and weeks, with a veritable laundry list of problems and conditions for both of the Tweedles.

Russel needed heart surgery to close a valve in his heart that should have closed when he was born. He also had an irregular heartbeat and was constantly sick due to PICC line infections. Before he was to be reunited with Logan at WCH, he would be facially disfigured due to a lack of communication between Sick Kids and WCH. Sick Kids neglected to inform WCH of the adhesive used in attaching the leads and wires to his tiny body. As a result Russel would be torn on his wee face from his mouth , along his jaw and to behind his ear. This would require the attention of a plastic surgeon to avoid excessive scarring.

​Logan on the other hand would suffer a Cerebral Venous Infarction, or in layman’s terms, a mini-stroke and would require a blood transfusion. This would cause a condition known as Cerebral Palsy, which would affect Logan’s ability to walk and his fine motor skills. Even his eyes would be affected on top of the retinal ocular prematurity that both my boys would be diagnosed with.

​When the boys were reunited at WCH, Greg noticed that when they were placed together, Logan’s touch would stabilize Russel’s erratic heart rate. Throughout my life, I had heard stories of such things between twins, but this was irrefutable proof.

​Christmas 2006 was off to a screaming start, we spent it in the hospital parking lot exchanging gifts with Greg’s family and my two older boys. In its way it was nice but far from ideal. Given how low our spirits were at the time, our friends threw us a surprise Christmas party to brighten things up. However, it became nothing more than a sad little waiting game.

​Another bad news train made a stop at our station and I was forced to deliver bad news when I returned home. Logan hadn’t urinated in over twelve hours. We all sort of milled around my living room, wrought with worry and anxiety as we waited for news. If Logan didn’t relieve himself soon then he was in danger of kidney failure and even death.

​Everyone stayed in an attempt to support us in case of the worst, but much to our collective relief the hospital called late that night. You could have heard a pin drop in my house as I held the phone to my ear. Logan had flooded his isolette and begun to drain as he should after that. Another bullet dodged.

​2007 didn’t start on a stellar note as the boys both contracted staph infections due to a hospital-wide outbreak. They each tested positive but were both unaffected. Small mercies. The man never ceased to amaze me, working full-time and shouldering so much emotional baggage. Anyone else may well have cracked under the pressure, but not him.

​The boys came home in the first quarter of 2007 and the first year basically flew by in a blur of constant care and appointments both for medical care and supports. It felt like we never slowed down to breathe let alone much else. We made it though and we did it together.

​Things became even more interesting when the General Motors truck plant ground to a halt in mid-2008. Greg became the best stay-at-home dad anyone has ever seen. I picked up the slack by getting a job with OnStar.

​In October 2009, Greg’s dad passed away and things in his family seemed to drift apart as he was the glue that held everything together. Dad’s death broke Greg and still, he didn’t stop. He simply poured himself into his family and we did our best to hold each other up.

​At six months old Logan begins to receive botox injections to assist with his CP symptoms. He still endures them to this day. Sometime after Russell turned two he was diagnosed with Autism, and the specialists believe Logan will be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. The resiliency of these boys is amazing, however. Greg and I watched as Logan taught Russel to communicate and in return, Russel did what everyone believed impossible. He taught Logan how to walk.

​The boys started school a year late due to their limitations, but when they did there were conditions to their attendance. I had to come in at lunch to help the boys. There was no EA provided at the time, It took Greg and I fighting for four months with the local board of education to get them to provide one to handle both my boys. I still couldn’t work however because if I wasn’t going into the school, the boys were staying home with one cold or another that happened to be going around. If there was a cold or flu within 20 miles, they would find it.

​Life became normal for a few years between 2011 and 2014. On July 21, 2012 Greg’s mother passed away and any sort of relationship with his family shattered as a result of grief. Shortly after, Russell qualified for a very special therapy called IBI. For three years Greg burned the candle at both ends and somehow found a third. He managed night shifts at work, running Russell to his appointments, and all the other driving we needed as I didn’t have my license. When he had to call out of work due to an obligation for myself or the boys, he would make it up by working double shifts. He didn’t know the word impossible because I watched him do it every day.

​After Russell aged out of his therapy program things leveled out until fate played a cruel joke on the world called The Pandemic in 2020. At that point, Greg was considered an essential worker, and he handled anything we needed in the outside world. Due to the boy’s health concerns, we couldn’t take chances.

​Sometime in 2022, Greg’s belly button begins to swell to twice its normal size, which he completely ignored for two years. His words were, “Taking care of my family was more important.”

​When he finally relents and has his tummy looked at, he is told he has a hiatal hernia. In May of 2024, Greg takes sick leave from work because the hernia is complicating his quality of life. Alongside this, because fate has a hell of a sense of humour, Greg develops a cough that worsens so gradually we didn’t notice until it was keeping him up at night. There was no sleep for him as anything close to a laying position exacerbated his cough.

​The following June Greg made himself an appointment and is diagnosed with pneumonia and a chest x-ray is ordered, the results of which show “a shadow” on one of his lungs. A CT scan is scheduled to follow-up.

​Greg’s stubborn streak was on full display leading up to my middle son’s birthday and Logan’s high school graduation. So as not to cast a shadow on either event, he refuses anymore medical help until both are done with despite EVERYONE telling him to go. This reminded me of the time he fell down the front steps at 6 am one winter morning and waited FIVE HOURS for the boys to be in school before calling an ambulance. His logic was he refused to allow the boys to see their dad taken away like that.

​On July 2, 2024 with his feet swelling to double their size with edema I finally put my foot down and insisted Greg go to the hospital. Once the boys are in bed and safely asleep I called an ambulance and he left our home for what would be the last time.

​Upon arrival at the hospital Greg’s heart rate is approaching 200 beats per minute. Testing reveals pericardial effusion or fluid around his heart. Slowly, over the course of twenty-four hours the fluid is drained. Two days later, after a full battery of tests, fate dealt the final blow to us. Greg is diagnosed with stage four metastatic lung cancer..

​I was crushed! Lost! But even in the face of that, Greg remained hopeful. He proposed to me and we immediately began planning a tiny wedding. As soon as he is strong enough, Greg submits to radiation therapy and begins his fight.

​However, on July 15th, he woke up feeling awful. He really thought it was over and texted me that very thing, telling me goodbye in case I couldn’t make it to him in time. Naturally I raced to the hospital and when I arrived, Greg was as cold as death and his breathing was very shallow and laboured. He was essentially drowning in his bed. I thought for sure that my person, my heart, was gone.

​The doctors were not ready to hang it up yet though. Right there in ICU they created a sterile field and drained approximately 500ml of fluid from Greg’s lungs. He immediately started to show signs of improvement, woke up and resumed his radiation treatments soon after.

​It was to be a short-lived fight sadly. On July 18, 2024, I was awakened by a ringing phone. The voice on the other end was forced to irreparably break my heart when they told me that at 6:45 that morning, Greg passed away.

​Never in my life have I ever met a man like Greg Killday. I can tell you with every confidence that he saved my life and renewed my faith in humankind by being there for myself and our boys. He never gave up no matter how hard things became for us. He was always there to hold us up. Always there to take a terrible day and cast sunlight into it.

​He became my heart and I will miss him for the rest of my days.