Kevin Rowland

Kevin Anthony Rowland, a beloved husband, father, son, brother, and friend passed away on November 22, 2025, after valiantly battling ALS for six years.

Born on May 7, 1972, Kevin’s intellectual curiosity and problem-solving skills were evident very early in life. As a young boy, he would take apart discarded household appliances in order to explore their inner workings, and “customize” his bicycle by, among other things, removing the brakes!

After graduating from the University of Dayton in 1994 with a degree in Physics, Kevin discovered that his “let’s break this open and see how it works” attitude, combined with a love of computers, was well suited to a career in technology. A self-proclaimed hacker, slacker, and wisecracker, Kevin often spent his free time coding, decoding, or researching...(you guessed it)...code.

Away from a computer screen, the moments he cherished were simple yet profound; taco nights filled with laughter, strumming his guitar, or conversations over a cold Corona adorned with a wedge of lime. He was somehow both quiet and hilarious. He would often talk in silly accents. And he never refused anything chocolate.

His gentle heart was deeply wounded by the death of his infant daughter Anna in 2003, and for a time, he laughed less, expected little, and retreated into himself. But his journey took a profound turn when, about a year before his diagnosis, he rediscovered his faith. This spiritual rekindling intensified during his illness. While ALS ravaged his body, God continued to heal his heart, and his newfound joy, peace, and gratitude in the face of adversity was an inspiration to all those he encountered.

Kevin became an advocate for technology, using his remarkable skills to develop solutions that enhanced the lives of individuals facing similar challenges, giving them tools to navigate their world with dignity and grace. He found it deeply fulfilling to use his God-given gifts in ways that would bless other people.

All the while, his playful spirit continued to shine through the darkness of his illness. Hobbies evolved. Riding a dirt bike through the woods was replaced with driving much too fast in his wheelchair. Playing with the dog in the backyard became napping with the dog perched on his lap. He couldn’t talk in silly accents anymore, but he could set his communication device to sound British or shout “Inconceivable!” in the voice of Vezinni from one of his favorite films, The Princess Bride.

Life slowed down, and Kevin was determined to focus on what he was gaining, not losing. He could now have breakfast and lunch every day with Jane, and watch a lot more Formula 1 racing. He appreciated the birds visiting the feeder on the patio, and laughing at something on TV until he couldn’t hardly breathe. He spent much more time in prayer, especially as the coughing episodes became more intense, and St. Max became one of his favorite places to visit. He joined Jane’s book club, becoming the only male in the group, and fulfilling a life-long dream of being surrounded by beautiful women. Together the group laughed, cried, laughed again, and hung on his every wise word.

Kevin is survived by his beloved wife Jane and their children Zachary, Lia, and Kaleb. He is also mourned by his mother Kathy, his father Ralph, his sister Jennifer Zieverink (Chris), and nephews Gavin and Blake. He was preceded in death by his grandparents, Charles & Nancy Leisenheimer and Ralph L & Monica Rowland, and his uncle Charlie Leisenheimer.

In remembering Kevin, we celebrate not just his journey through life, but the enduring impact he made upon his family and friends, the love he nurtured, and the lessons of strength, faith, and joy that will resonate in the hearts of many for years to come. His legacy is one of compassion and courage, an invitation to engage with life fearlessly, rooted in love, humor, and an unwavering will to help others.

In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to ALS United and Catholic Relief Services.