Kim Radell LeBaron

Kim Radell LeBaron, 72, passed away Wednesday evening as the sun was setting, surrounded by the love that he brought into this world.

He fought so hard to stay with us and held on until as many of us as possible could make it to his side.

We filled the room with his favorite music, cried, and told stories until he knew that we were all going to be okay.

He left us under a chorus of ‘I love yous’ and breaking hearts, as we watched our warrior for the first time in his life, finally choosing to rest, instead of fight.

Kim was born in Payson, Utah on August 26th, 1952, and was raised on a farm on the southwest side of Utah Lake where he learned the art of hard work, perfecting this skill over the course of his life.

Often when baling hay, he’d look across the lake to the big city of Provo and wonder if the girl he’d marry was “over there”.

She was.

When Kim was 14 years old his father sold the farm and moved the family across the lake, where he met the love of his life, Jerry Lynne Orrock.

“Mom, any memories of seeing dad for the first time?”

“Oh yes. He had wide shoulders, and a big smile. I thought he was very handsome.”

Kim didn’t know of Lynne’s first impression, so when at a church dance trying to work-up the nerve to approach her, he said to his friend “I wish I had the courage to ask Lynne Orrock to dance with me.”

To which his friend grabbed Kim’s arm, marched him over to his future, and said:

“Lynne, this is Courage.”

And so it was that Courage danced with Lynne that night, ultimately resulting in their marriage on April 16th of 1971—the two of them unknowingly about to unleash into the world 8 kids who are equal parts tortured artists and blue-collar rabble-rousers.

The house they built together was in Loafer Canyon—but the home they built was on a foundation of love and lightly out of control chaos, sanctioned by Kim’s adventurous spirit and love of story.

On cool June nights when summer thunderstorms would climb into the mountains, Kim would wake his kids and ask us to gather our sleeping bags to meet him on the back deck where he’d read Louis L’Amour books to us, and count the distance between light and thunder.

Dad never passed on an opportunity to make something bigger and better.

He always swung big, which should come as no surprise that the man who steeled himself by baling hay, threw nothing but haymakers to realize his dreams.

Kim was always reinventing himself to become the man he wanted his boys to believe they could be. In his 50s he went back to college, graduating with honors while teaching most of his classes.

Truth be told, he lived too big a life to put into an obituary.

Kim was an athlete, an artist, a singer, and a mechanical engineer who traveled the globe doing tests on massive machinery. He was a scout master, a poet, and had a disarmingly beautiful baritone voice housed in a big barrel chest.

But most importantly, he had a big heart.

He gave us everything he had and didn’t have—and often regretted he couldn’t give more.

He was the richest man he never knew—and it is our prayer that he now sees he gave us more than we ever needed.

When preparing to write this, we asked our mom “Anything specific you’d like us to put in dad’s obituary?"

It was difficult watching her eyes well up as she considered a question that asked how she’d like to distill her life companion into a handful of thoughts.

“Yes. I want people to know that he was larger than life. He was a master gardener. He loved teaching his sunbeams. He had a brilliant mind. He was a farmer who travelled the world.”

We watched our mom consider the question a little more:

“I want everyone who reads it to know he would do anything for the people he loved. And he loved his family fiercely.”

“And I miss him so much already. He was the only love of my life”

“That’s it.”

Mom—that’s everything.

We know that obituaries typically list the family he’s survived by, but we all know who we are—so this is mostly for mom, who was loved so very much by a man who loved so mightily.

For the first time in 60 years our mom is having to learn a dance that she doesn’t know the steps to.

And we want you to know, mom—because we were raised by a great man, we know what we must do, and we have you by the arm.

Stay strong.

And when that next sorrowful moment comes for us kids, we’ll stay with you until the end, so we can walk you over to dad, and say:

“Courage, this is Kim.”

If you’d like to join us in celebrating the life of a man who could sing Pavarotti and punch-out an aggressive drunk while thinking about the flowers he’s going to plant—we’ll all be having a rough time down at Wheeler Mortuary in Springville on July 6th and 7th.

We’d be honored if you’d come to count the distance between light and thunder with us.

Sunday, July 6th: Viewing 6pm - 8 pm, Wheeler Mortuary

Monday, July 7th: Viewing 9:30am - 10:30am, Funeral at 11am, Mapleton Stake Center, 475 North 1600 West Mapleton, Utah, 84664

Internment at Mapleton City Cemetery

Livestream can be viewed below, or by clicking the following link: https://youtube.com/live/Yo9C0tWiOuw?feature=share

Condolences may be expressed to the family on this page.