Richard Kwast

Richard Frederick Kwast was a warm-hearted conversationalist, a deep thinker, and a faithful friend. To know him was to encounter a man who prized time spent over time passed—a "quality-timer" in every sense. He savored the richness of life’s experiences, large and small, whether that meant hiking a mountain trail with his sons, talking a bit of theology, or simply sitting still long enough to take in the fullness of a hymn or a shared story. Rick’s presence made space for others to feel heard, valued, and known.

Born on October 18, 1950, in Fremont, Michigan, Richard arrived in a time of American optimism. The post-war boom was humming along, the Detroit auto industry was surging, televisions were becoming household staples, and the space race was about to begin. It was a world full of hope and expansion—a fitting backdrop for Rick.

Rick was the oldest son of Virgil Kwast, a high school science teacher, and Beverley Rose Clark, a compassionate nurse. His parents were children of German immigrants who had migrated to Russia and finally to the U.S. to escape the tides of war. This heritage of perseverance and faith deeply shaped Rick’s character—grounded, curious, principled, and patient. He grew up in a busy household with his younger brothers Steven, Robert, and Kenneth. The Kwast boys were close in their youth, sharing holidays and adventures. Though time and distance eventually separated the brothers, Rick and Bob remained an exception—raising their families just minutes apart and maintaining a uniquely close bond.

In Fremont, Rick found his early passions: singing, acting, and football. He spent summers camping, working at the Gerber baby food factory (where the fruit flavors passed his taste test and the peas decidedly did not), and singing in choir performances. After graduating from Fremont High School in 1968, Rick attended Bob Jones University, where he immersed himself in music and theater, graduating in 1972. Later, he pursued a master’s degree at Indiana University South Bend, a step toward his long and steady career in accounting.

Rick was a CPA with an MBA, but more than that, he was a committed provider and problem-solver. He spent years working in the automotive industry with companies like Clark Equipment, Summit Polymers, and Michigan Wheel. For fifteen years, he drove over an hour each way to work—1 hour and 20 minutes one way—to ensure stability and opportunity for his family. That kind of steadfast commitment defined him.

It was in Fremont, during a church "Pack the Pew" event, that Rick’s life changed forever. He approached a group of three women to ask for help filling seats at church, and one replied: "Only if you ask Patsy out." So he did. Ten months later, on June 29, 1974, Rick and Patsy were married at First Baptist Church of Newaygo, Michigan. Their love story was romantic and adventurous, marked by not one, but four honeymoons—including trips to Traverse City, the Pocono Mountains, the Bahamas, and Hawaii. They lived first in a mobile home in Buchanan, Michigan, before settling in various cities, eventually planting deep roots in Grand Rapids.

Together, Rick and Patsy raised three sons: Timothy, Daniel, and Mark. Rick was the kind of father who showed up. Whether it was a soccer game, swim meet, cross country invitational, or track event, if Rick could make it—he was there. His presence was a constant reassurance. Summers meant road trips—Yellowstone, Niagara Falls, Rocky Mountain National Park, and annual visits to Cedar Point, Silver Lake Sand Dunes and Mackinac Island. The Kwast family could be found hiking to Bear Lake, driving Trail Ridge Road in search of elk, or gathered around a fire at Woods and Waters campground north of Grand Rapids. Evenings were often filled with board games, laughter, and stories, often while playing Mexican Train, Uno, or dice.

Rick was not only a father and a husband—he was an artist at heart. A gifted vocalist, he performed in church choirs, community theater productions, and even sang backup for Steve Green. He sang in the Grand Rapids Chorale and served faithfully on the soundboard at Calvary Baptist Church, where the family worshiped for years. Later, Rick would become an active member of Ada Bible Church, leading a men's small group and continuing to build community.

Rick and Patsy shared a love for travel that took them across Europe three times, visiting Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, France, and England. Rick, ever the entertainer, became a well-remembered figure among their fellow tour-goers. Once, during a group trip through Bavaria, he was talked into donning traditional lederhosen and dancing alongside athletic young German performers. Realizing he couldn’t keep up, he pivoted to doing exaggerated jumping jacks, bringing the entire house to roaring laughter.

At home, Rick could be just as animated. He delighted in Chinese takeout, Olive Garden, and Longhorn Steakhouse. He cooked hearty meals, constantly tinkering with sauces and spices. Chili nights were a family staple. He enjoyed symphonic music, traditional hymns, and dramatic choir arrangements that stirred the soul. He liked science fiction, both in books and television, and had a deep intellectual curiosity—especially when it came to biblical prophecy and theology. Rick treasured his Bible, reading it faithfully and studying commentary.

In his final years, Rick lived as he always had: attentive to detail, anchored by faith, and devoted to his family. Though he missed Patsy dearly and carried her memory with him, he remained active in his church, committed to his loved ones, and full of gentle purpose. He believed in the power of beauty, the weight of truth, and the quiet holiness of time spent with those he loved. He was a man who could strike up a conversation with anyone—be it at a bus stop in Germany or a gas station in Michigan.

When Rick passed on May 22, 2025, in Grand Rapids, Michigan, the world lost not just a man, but a storyteller, a singer, a father, and a friend.

Those who knew Richard Frederick will likely remember him in many small, daily things—in the echo of four-part harmony, the pages of a well-read Bible, a board game shared after dinner, or the rustling quiet of a forest trail. His legacy is not only in the places he went, the songs he sang, or the family he raised—but in the spirit he brought into every room, every relationship, every moment.