Kevin Goretski

Funeral Information

A memorial visitation for Kevin will be held Saturday, August 29, 2026, at St. Michael’s Catholic Church, 8661 Independence Ave, Port Austin, Michigan 48467, from 9:00 AM until the time of the funeral service at 11:00 AM. In lieu of flowers, donations in Kevin’s memory may be made to the Henry Ford Health Pancreatic Cancer Research Center or to the family toward the establishment of a memorial scholarship for a North Huron student pursuing a career in agriculture, honoring Kevin’s lifelong passion for farming. Information regarding the scholarship will be shared once it has been established. Either would be deeply appreciated by his family. Checks can be made payable to Henry Ford Health, MUST write in memo area on check: “Pancreatic Cancer Research Fund” in memory of Kevin Goretski. Mail to: Henry Ford Health, Development Office, One Ford Place, 5A, Detroit, MI 48202-3450. If you would like to make donation online, Please click on the link below: www.henryford.com/development/make-a-gift Under “Gift Designation”, select “Direct my gift to:”, scroll down to “Cancer” and select “Pancreatic Cancer Research Fund”. After entering Donor Information check the “Yes, this donation is a Tribute gift” box, under “Tribute Type:”, select “In Memory Of”, then enter Kevin’s name.

Family of the Deceased

Kevin loved people — and he had a whole lot of them in his life. He leaves behind his wife and partner in life and farming, Bonnie; his children, Stacey (Rick) Kleinhoffer of Romeo, Jeff of Houston, TX, and Meghan; and his grandchildren, Nicolette and Ricky Kleinhoffer. Meghan remained close to the family farm in Port Austin, where she had the privilege of working alongside her dad and sharing in the life he loved so much. He also leaves behind four of his siblings Michael (Marilyn) of Walled Lake, Mary (John) Williams of Bellaire, Cathleen (Tim) Diaz of Ogallala, NE, and Bridget Harris of South Lyon, sisters-in-law Shirley Peters and Constance (Dale Hartsell) Prill of Port Austin; as well as nieces and nephews Kyle (Kala) Goretski, Kelly (Greg Brubaker) Williams, Andrew (Drew Doubleday) Williams, John Diaz, Katherine Diaz, Erin (Sara) Diaz, and Jason Pettit; and countless great-nieces and nephews, cousins, friends, neighbors, farming buddies, and card-playing partners. Kevin's parents, Michael and Julia; his siblings Colleen Steinman and Sean; and his brothers-in-law Robert Steinman and Robert Harris preceded him in death.

Biography

If you knew Kevin James Goretski, you probably already know that writing a few paragraphs about him was never going to be easy. Kevin was not exactly a “few paragraphs” kind of guy. Kevin was 73 when he passed away from injuries sustained in an accident on the farm he loved. While his family and friends are heartbroken that his story ended far too soon, anyone who knew Kevin knows he would much rather we talk about the way he lived than the way he left us. Kevin was a farmer, but he always said he never worked a day in his life because he was doing what he loved. To Kevin, farming was a blessing. Born and raised on the family farm, Kevin spent his entire life there, farming alongside his parents and siblings, and eventually alongside his wife, Bonnie, and daughter Meghan. He was still farming right up until he passed. Kevin was a six-year survivor of pancreatic cancer, a feat that felt like a miracle in itself to those who loved him. He faced cancer with the same determination and stubbornness he brought to everything else in life. He fought like hell, beat it, and got right back to doing what he loved. He wasn't about to let cancer decide when his farming days were over. Over the years, Kevin grew crops and raised beef cattle but eventually discovered one pretty important problem with cows: they don't understand the concept of going to Florida for the winter. So the cows eventually went, and Kevin headed south for a couple of months each winter. He loved Florida, but Michigan farming was in his blood, and he could never stay away for too long. The farm was much more than a place to grow crops. It was a gathering place and a revolving door. If you showed up, Kevin would likely have something to say, something to show you, or somebody to introduce you to. And if you didn't have a few dollars in your pocket, that was your own fault, because there was always time for cards. Kevin loved playing cards, especially Euchre and 31. He loved the competition, the laughter, the arguing, and, perhaps most of all, giving someone a hard time when the game wasn’t going their way. But he could take it as well as he dished it out. Kevin had absolutely no filter. He swore like a sailor, said exactly what he thought, and was rarely accused of being politically correct. If Kevin loved you, you knew it. If he disagreed with you, you definitely knew it. And if you did something he didn't care for, well, you were going to hear about that too. But underneath all those opinions, colorful words, and that unmistakable Kevin personality was one of the biggest hearts you could ever find. Kevin's definition of family, however, was considerably less technical. He had a knack for collecting people along the way and deciding they were family whether they knew they had signed up for it or not. Rick (Cindy) Bergquist, who called Kevin every Sunday after his pancreatic cancer diagnosis, and Quinn Duda were some of those people. Dr. David Kwon became family too, despite knowing Kevin for a much shorter time. Kevin didn't care how you were related — if he loved you, you were family. If you looked up “social butterfly” in the dictionary, there is a pretty good chance you'd find a picture of Kevin James Goretski. He could talk to anybody, and he usually did. Kevin and Bonnie also owned a restaurant for a few years, which for Kevin was probably less about owning a restaurant and more about having yet another place to connect with people. Friends, family, neighbors, regulars, and anyone who stopped in for coffee or a meal quickly became part of Kevin's day. He loved catching up, telling stories, hearing what was happening in everyone's lives, and sharing his opinion whether anyone had asked for it or not. It was simply another place for Kevin's big personality and even bigger heart to shine. Kevin loved life — the farm, his family, his friends, a good story, a good argument, and probably a few things that shouldn't be printed in his obituary. He never wanted a fancy retirement or a quiet life sitting around doing nothing. He wanted to farm, spend time with family and friends, play cards, laugh, tell stories, and keep moving. And that's exactly what he did. Kevin didn't just live on a farm. He lived a life full of family, friendship, hard work, laughter, colorful language, card games, and a whole lot of love. Rest easy, Kevin. You've earned it.

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