Kimberly Herbig Dismukes

My wife was a beautiful woman who had an enduring passion for her children, her home, her gardens and plants, her catholic faith, her beloved dogs, especially her beagles, and her husband.

My wife was a midwestern girl, raised in South Florida. In the late 1980s, I was a graduate student that had recently been employed at the same company where she worked as a financial consultant. I was a lowly analyst she was already on the way to having a successful and envious career. We found ourselves, for the first time, face to face at the company Christmas party. It was a slow dance, and she kissed me and told me she never wanted to be separated from me and from that point forward, she never was.

We married the following year and began a 37-year adventure that was challenging, exciting, rewarding, and full of love. While we were entirely different people, from differing places, we had a core set of values, and an unyielding level of determination that defined who we were and what we stood for, as individuals, and as a family. We eloped at the time since no one else understood nor appreciated our commitment and love to each other.

Kim was a brilliant woman yet despite this brilliance she chose to be my wife, my rock, my partner, and the creator of a wonderful family. Her children were her world, and they all touched her in differing and special ways.

To her oldest son, Jamie, she saw compassion, empathy and a sweetness that was often unmatched in little boys and later in grown men. To her younger son, Jeremy, she saw drive, mischievous humor, and a special spirit that she loved even during times that would prove to be a challenge. And lastly, to her only daughter, Jessica, she saw her own heart... her love ... and a little girl and ultimately beautiful woman to whom she wanted to pass along everything good she saw in her own life.

Kimberly leaves behind a husband who will be forever wounded without her. A husband who will never understand the senselessness of this loss, its reason, nor its purpose. She leaves behind a husband who desperately cannot wait for the day when they are reunited, and for things to go back to the way they were.

For many years, I would tell my wife how much I loved her. She would ask me “how much?” and I would tell her “from here to the moon and back.” In her dying days, her horrible disease would only let her say, in a limited whisper “to the moon.” While others may not have known what that meant, I did and do ... and always will feel the same way. Goodbye my love, rest peacefully until we can be in each other’s arms again.

The family wishes that in lieu of flowers, donations be made in her name to the Beagle Freedom Project at (818) 382-6500 or bfp.org.