Story
Countless people have asked how they can support Chelsea and the kids after this unimaginable loss. What they need more than anything is time—time to heal, time off work, time to take a breath, maybe even a family vacation—anything to begin processing the grief that has hijacked their lives.
It has been utterly devastating to share the passing of Steve Walsh, who died after a courageous three-year battle with colorectal cancer. What was meant to be a fresh start—a final procedure full of hope—turned into a relentless series of complications. For nine long weeks, Steve fought with everything he had, undergoing surgery after surgery. In the end, it became a heartbreaking goodbye.
Steve was a devoted husband and an extraordinary father. His love for his children knew no bounds. Even while hooked up to chemo, Steve still drove them to sports and showed up—because that’s who he was. He didn’t just fight for his life; he fought for more time with the people he loved most. His strength, warmth, and humor touched everyone who knew him. His absence leaves a hole that cannot be filled.
The pandemic hit their family especially hard, as Steve’s career in the live music industry abruptly stopped. Work stopped, but Steve didn’t. He did everything he could to provide and keep life as normal as possible. And when he got sick, every resource—financial, emotional, and physical—was poured into giving him the best possible chance. That’s the kind of love Steve and Chelsea shared. They gave everything to try and win this fight.
Steve had never been sick before cancer. No health issues, no warning signs—just a diagnosis that changed everything. Losing his ability to work was devastating. He was heartbroken when his work benefits ran out, something he never imagined. Still, he carried that weight quietly, always trying to shield his family from the stress.
Chelsea stood by Steve through it all. She never left—not through the surgeries, the setbacks, or the hardest days. She has a full-time job and also runs a private therapy practice. During Steve’s final months in the hospital, she continued seeing clients virtually—sometimes from the hospital bathroom—determined to support others while staying by his side. Eventually, she could no longer work her full-time job. In Alabama, FMLA protects your job but not your income. With Steve gone, Chelsea cannot continue caring for others in the same way. Every ounce of her energy needs to go toward her children and her healing.
No amount of planning could fully prepare for the emotional, physical, and financial toll this journey has taken. What Chelsea and the kids need now is space—to grieve, to rest, and to begin rebuilding their lives without the crushing weight of having to return to work to be of service to others.
From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for your kindness and generosity and for helping us honor Steve’s life and legacy.