September 11, 2001, a day we will never forget; it was the day we lost our only son, Swede Joseph Chevalier. He was 25.
He was a GREAT son. He would say, “Not going halfway. What is the point of doing something if not all the way?” And boy, did he accomplish a lot in his short time.
When he was a young boy, he and his friends would dress up in full camouflage and do night ops missions on our property – all night! I loved it just as much as they did.
At about 8 years old, we flew from our house to Washington, D.C. in a helicopter. On our way back, he insisted on sitting in the right seat. When we cleared the city, the heading was secured so he could steer us back home – the whole way! He said he felt he was on top of the world… so did I.
He was just 15 when he decided he wanted to build a pond in our yard. He loved running heavy equipment, getting in the dirt, moving it around. He designed and shaped the whole thing. He was born for this, and we loved working side by side. To this day, I think of it as “Swede’s Pond.”
He loved the outdoors so much that on his 16th birthday, his grandfather bought him a dump truck. Swede quickly started his own business. Secured his own customers, delivered their dirt, billed them and, most importantly, collected. He loved it and his customers loved him.
As much as he loved to work hard, he loved to play hard. He used his equipment to build a motocross track in our yard for him and his friends to race bikes and dune buggies. He always wanted adventure.
You name a sport, Swede did it and excelled at it. Hockey was a passion; he played in many leagues, including at Peddie, where he attended high school and later at Cornell University, where he attended college. He made me laugh when, at the ripe age of 15, he mastered golf and was quick to correct me when I stepped on his line. He was now my teacher.
His Cornell acceptance was based on the business model he had built from childhood. He was so driven and dedicated that he still ran the business while attending school.
One of my fondest memories was of us mountain biking Pikes Peak to Colorado Springs. We rented bikes and knew full well “you break it, you buy it.” Well, we went full on – cut up, bruised, bleeding. We both agreed: Best day ever and vowed to do it again!
After college, Wall Street called, and Swede was off to succeed again. He loved the job at Cantor Fitzgerald and all those he worked with. They were neighbors, friends and family. He had been there two years when the unthinkable…
On June 3, you would have turned 50 years old. My heart aches thinking of the family you may have had, your children, your spouse. The farm you would have lived on, the things you would have shared with them, like planting, plowing, growing and enjoying the earth as you did.
I MISS AND LOVE YOU BEYOND WORDS,
– Your Dad
God bless you, my son.
You are with your heavenly father.
