A Story of Love, Loss, and the Power of Community

Hello, friends — both those we know and those kind enough to pause and read our story.

Life has a way of throwing curveballs when we least expect them. For my mother, Norvella, and our family, that curveball came with the sudden passing of her beloved husband, Scott. His heart valve gave out without warning, leaving us all stunned, lost, and heartbroken.

Scott A. Gilbert A.K.A. Scotty wasn’t just a husband or stepdad — he was the heartbeat of our family. He had that rare gift of making people feel lighter just by being in the room. He gave freely — his time, his wisdom, his money (when he had it to spare), and most importantly, his endless supply of dad jokes.

If you ever needed to know the difference between a good joke and a “dad joke,” Scott would grin and say,

“It’s a parent.”

Corny? Absolutely. But somehow, it always made us laugh. That was his magic — kindness laced with humor, the ability to take even life’s heavy moments and soften them with a smile.

But Scott’s heart went deeper than humor. He was a man of faith who prayed with friends and family whenever they needed comfort. Each morning, he sent out inspirational texts to his loved ones — little rays of encouragement to start the day off right. For so many of us, those words were more than messages; they were reminders that someone out there cared, prayed, and believed in us.

Scott worked hard all his life, and after retiring, he dedicated himself fully to what he valued most: love. When my mom suffered a stroke and had to spend over two years in a rehab facility, Scott was there every single weekday, sitting by her side so she would never feel alone. That was the measure of the man — steady, loyal, and unwavering in his devotion.

Now, without him, my mom is facing a storm she never expected to weather alone. We recently moved from California to Nevada, pouring most of the savings into a modest home, hoping to start fresh and build new memories. But with Scott’s passing, the financial weight has become overwhelming. What was already tight has now turned into a struggle for survival.

We’re not asking for much — only what will help us stay in the home we worked so hard to secure. A home where memories of Scott still linger, where his laughter still echoes in the walls, and where my mom can feel safe as she grieves and heals.

Any gift you give — no matter the size — is more than just money. It’s hope. It’s community. It’s proof that the kindness Scott lived by still exists in this world. We believe that when we come together, hearts can be mended, and burdens can feel just a little bit lighter.

Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for reading, for sharing, and for giving. Scott always said, “Kindness is free — sprinkle that stuff everywhere.” Today, we humbly ask for a sprinkle of kindness from you.

With love and gratitude,

Our Family