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Enough to make dad proud

After his father's sudden death, Kevin McCarthy Jr. emerged as an honors student and school leader.

By ELISABETH DYER
Published May 12, 2006

SUNSET PARK

The sun hung low as Kevin McCarthy Jr. stood next to his mom in their dining room overlooking Tampa Bay, remembering good times they shared.

Fires on the patio and boat rides. Catching fish together and cooking them for dinner.

"That's the one thing I'm going to miss,'' he jokes to his mother, Joan McCarthy.

In two weeks, 17-year-old Kevin will graduate from Plant High School with an impressive record: four years of straight A's and a 7.36 grade point average, ranking him second in his class.

In August he'll be a freshman at the University of Florida, majoring in chemistry. But first, he'll travel to Mexico for six weeks as part of UF's Lombardi Scholarship, which includes summer studies abroad. Next summer, he'll go to Japan, followed by South Africa and Greece. It's a college plan they couldn't have scripted any better, says his mom.

But it came after a heart-rending blow in his sophomore year.

It happened on Nov. 16, 2003, as Kevin and his family rode to Sunday services at Christ the King Catholic Church. His father, Kevin McCarthy Sr., pulled the car to the side of the road and said he was going to black out.

Kevin Jr. and his mother pulled him from the car. She began CPR on the side of the road. Kevin flagged down a car to call 911.

McCarthy was principal at Robinson High School and known for his healthy lifestyle, which included a 5-mile daily run.

It turns out, he suffered a rare and fatal heart attack. He died at age 39.

Late that night, Kevin sought solace in his mother's room. "It was like God just plucked him from the earth," he said to her. There was no one to blame. "It must have been God," they surmised.

As they tried to make sense of it all, they recalled things he had said in previous weeks: "Don't feel bad if I die. I have a great family. I have a successful job, a good marriage. I have achieved and done everything I wanted to do."

At first, his wife, Joan, an obstetrician and gynecologist at the University of South Florida, and their three children struggled to cope. Friends, neighbors, even people they didn't know, supported them.

At Plant, football coach Bob Weiner and principal Eric Bergholm stepped in as role models for Kevin.

Bergholm knew the McCarthy children from working with their father at Wharton High School, where they were both assistant principals before taking posts at South Tampa schools.

"After Kevin Sr. died, I made myself available," Bergholm said. He checked in regularly with Kevin and his older sister, Maegan, who is now at the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado.

He helped with scheduling classes and often bought Kevin lunch.

He noticed a seriousness in Kevin after losing his father.

"He stepped it up a notch," Bergholm said, "as if he thought, 'I've got to get this right.' "

Kevin always had a competitive streak. As a sophomore, he wrestled like his father, who had been high school state champion. His senior year, Kevin switched to football and broke the county record for most sacks.

He took on leadership roles. He mentored first-year students, served as a peer mediator and led blood drives. He was on the board of the Student Advisory Committee and was vice president of Students Against Destructive Decisions.

Kevin chose UF, where his best friend, Chris Kale , and his girlfriend, Sarah Foster , are also headed. He wanted to stay close to home to keep tabs on his younger brother, David, an eighth-grader at Coleman Middle School.

If left alone, the two play "like puppies" to the exclusion of everything, said Joan, seated in her husband's old blue recliner.

Across from her, Kevin sits on a leather couch, petting Lucky, a coon hound named for her fortune when Kevin picked her out at the pound.

On the wall behind him, photos display the family's last summer vacation, a trip to Yellowstone National Park, one of Kevin Sr.'s goals.

"The thing about grief is it comes in pangs and waves,'' Kevin said. "Some days I'm fine and then something small happens that reminds you ..."

For the most part, he doesn't waste time wishing things were different.

"It's a part of who I am now," he says. "The sum of who I am is truly more about the people who've cared for me and loved me.''

And he's happy with that.

Elisabeth Dyer can be reached at edyer@sptimes.com or 813 226-3321.

[Last modified May 11, 2006, 13:55:47]