Funeral Services— Saturday, July 26th, 2025 12pm CDT

A Eulogy for Mike Irwin

written by Frans Keylard

It is with a heavy heart that I write these words about my friend Mike Irwin, who passed away after his courageous battle with dementia. Just yesterday I was informed that Mike had maybe only weeks left, but this morning, the hammer of finality came down. While the disease may have taken him from us, the memories of who Mike was, his warmth, his wit, his genuine spirit, remain vivid and treasured.

I first encountered Mike over twenty years ago, around 2003, in what might seem like an unlikely place to forge lasting friendships: the IRC chat room of my radio show, "The Rogue's Gallery," on The Dividing Line. Every Thursday night from eight to midnight Pacific, I would spin tunes while chatting with listeners, and it was in that digital space that Mike's personality first shone through my screen.

Our connection was immediate and built on shared passions: our love for all things Prog, and especially our mutual devotion to Fish and Marillion. Mike proudly contributed to crowdfunding efforts for Marillion, Ayreon, and other artists, and his name lives on in those CD booklets as a testament to his dedication to the music that meant so much to him. Through his many travels, Mike had also worked in the Netherlands, so we had quite a bit to talk about on that front as well. This was before Facebook, before the countless ways we now stay connected, when those weekly conversations over IRC were genuine lifelines to community and friendship. Mike was part of something special during that surreal time in my life, and the bonds formed in that late-night virtual gathering have endured ever since.

It was also in that chat room where Mike met Tola Faery, and I had the joy of watching their friendship blossom into something beautiful. In December 2006, when Tola's computer mouse stopped working, Mike offered to send her an extra one he had. That simple act of kindness became the beginning of their deeper connection, and that mouse now sits preserved in a shadow box as a treasured reminder of how their love story began. They were married on December 21, 2007, proving that the most profound connections can start with the smallest gestures of care. Their love story began in the most unexpected of places, a testament to Mike's ability to connect authentically with others, even through the barriers of technology and distance. Witnessing their relationship grow from that first generous offer to their wedding day was one of the unexpected gifts of those years.

Mike possessed that rare combination of being both deeply thoughtful and genuinely approachable. He could engage on a variety of topics with insight and humor, always bringing a perspective that was both intelligent and refreshingly human. When I say Mike was a "tech nerd," I mean he was THE tech nerd. He was on the team that developed the credit card chip, decades before it came to the US. He worked at ESA and was literally a rocket scientist, and his work there remains in many communications satellites that orbit our planet today. Despite these extraordinary achievements, Mike never lost sight of the human element in every conversation. He had the gift of making complex ideas accessible and of finding common ground with anyone willing to engage, whether you were discussing satellite technology or simply sharing stories about daily life.

What strikes me most about Mike was his consistency. He was the same thoughtful, easy-going person whether we were debating the merits of a particular album, sharing stories, or simply checking in on each other's lives. He reached across the digital divide and made real, lasting impacts on the people he encountered.

Dementia is a cruel disease that takes our loved ones away from us twice: first in spirit, then in body. Having recently watched my own father-in-law succumb to the same illness, I understand the particular heartbreak that comes with watching someone's essence fade while their physical form remains. My heart goes out to Tola and to all of Mike's family and friends who witnessed his struggle and who now mourn his loss.

But today, I choose to remember Mike not as the disease left him, but as the vibrant, insightful, and genuinely good human being he was. I remember the voice that came through those late-night chats, full of humor and wisdom. I remember the friend who could make you think, make you laugh, and make you feel heard. I remember the man who found love in the most unexpected place and who approached life with curiosity and kindness.

Mike Irwin was proof that meaningful connections can form anywhere, even in the glow of computer screens during late-night radio shows. He showed us that friendship transcends physical distance and that genuine human connection can flourish in the most unlikely circumstances.

To Tola and to all who loved Mike: while we mourn his passing, we also celebrate the profound impact he had on our lives. He may be gone, but the conversations continue, the music plays on, and the connections he helped forge remain strong.

Rest in peace, Mike. Thank you for reaching out across the digital divide and touching so many lives. You will be deeply missed and fondly remembered.