W. David Kennedy, 49, of Akron, CO, passed away Friday, June 24, 2011, at the inpatient hospice unit at Eben Ezer Lutheran Care Center in Brush, following a lengthy illness. He was born in the Washington County Hospital in Akron on July 21, 1961, to Bill Burrage and Vicki Laird Burrage. Don Kennedy married Vicki, before David turned three. David changed his last name to Kennedy when he was twelve years old. David will be remembered as a kind and gentle, loving and generous man. He loved the farm where he, his sister and brothers grew up. David attended school in Akron, graduating from high school in 1980. He attended CSU and graduated with his bachelor's degree. Following graduation, David moved to Southern California where he attended the Law Enforcement Academy in San Bernardino. After graduating from this school he worked as a deputy law officer in Coachella, California until he was awarded a disability retirement at age 31. David returned to Akron, with his wife and daughter, Ashley, and went back to CSU where he received his masters degree in Entomology. Prior to ill health forcing his retirement, David did consulting for corn farmers in Yuma County. Survivors include his children, Ashley and David; his parents Vicki & Don Kennedy; his biological father, Bill Burrage; his sisters, Becki Spiva and Nancy Burrage; brothers, Sean Kennedy, Jeff Kennedy and his wife, Shawnee, and Sam Burrage; 9 nieces and nephews and one great nephew. He had several aunts, uncles and cousins. He was preceded in death by his brother, Konnery; his maternal grandparents and his Grandmother Kennedy. At David's request, no service will be held. Cremation arrangements were entrusted to the Heer & Dahl Crematory in Brush. David's family and his many friends will miss him but know he is at peace. Verse by Henry Van Dyke: I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says: "There, she is gone!" "Gone where?" Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my sides says: "There, she is gone!" There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: "Here she comes!" And that is dying.