Adam M. Stinley
January 25, 1985 – May 2, 2018
Adam M Stinley 33 of Boyertown/Sebring FL. passed away, Wednesday, May,2nd 2018. He was the husband of Ashleigh Kimak Stinley and father to Jacob R Stinley, stepdaughter Charlotte P Johner. Born in Grandview hospital Harleysville, PA on January 25 1985. He was the son of David M Stinley and Cynthia Clouser Stinley(deceased) He was the brother of Nathan D Stinley , Rachel E Stinley. Also survived by Grandparents Mark and Nancy Stinley and Nancy Clouser along with many nieces,nephews and cousins. Adam is a Boyertown Graduate class of 2003 where he enjoyed football and wrestling. His employers were the US Marine Corp. where his tour of duty took him to Al Qaim Iraq in 2005. He was employed by Waste management, Yarnell Paving. And of late Evans trucking. He enjoyed fishing to the point of winning Hawghunters Allentown Angler of the year 2013. Friends and family remember Adam as “Loving, Intelligent, funny, loyal, Casanova and Stubborn at times. A celebration of life will be held at the Linwood W. Ott Funeral Home, Inc. 111 North Reading Ave. Boyertown, PA. 19512. on Saturday June 16, 2018 from 1:00 to 3:00 PM. Interment will be private at the convenience of the family. A Poem from a friend. Maybe because this is how I process. Maybe because my heart needed to speak. This post is from my heart to his sweet memory. If we were having coffee I would pour you a black - because I’m not entirely sure what you would take, but I imagine you would drink it strong. We would lean back in our chairs in the sunshine and over your shoulder the rays would glisten off of the nose of your rig. You would tell me proudly about all the miles you had crossed in the last few months, all the things you’ve seen, all the different people you have met. And I would wonder If it was just life on the road you were referring to. I would let you tell me stories about driving and fishing, and impress me with random facts that few people know, or even remember. I would admire your intellect and your drive as I always have. I would listen to the words fall lightly from your mouth and remember very clearly the sweet young boy I met when I was only 21 years old. Sitting on the edge of your grandfathers pond talking to me passionately about your dreams. I would remember the young man you grew into, blasting classic rock tunes from the cab of your truck - deejaying the campfire party as everyone swam in the lake under the moon light. I would think of how proud and handsome you were in your marine uniform. How that pride surrounded you and laid like a warm blanket around your brother and sister, your parents, your cousins, your grand parents - your family. I would think of the summer after your hospitalization and how in the early dusk of July I hugged you with all my heart and cried tears of relief that you were here. That you were with us. How when I told you how worried I was and how much I loved you your sweet eyes were surprised and you laughed lightly. Really? You had said. As though you didn’t realize that friends could love you as deeply as your family did. And your family loved you - deeply If we were having coffee I would sip mine slowly and feel the aching wish bubbling deep inside my stomach - a wish that will never come true but exists anyway. A dream that you had never begun the dangerous dance with addiction, that it wouldn’t swallow you and steal the light from your eyes. I would wish that people who have never loved an addict would understand your humanity and were able to see the sweet person that exists beneath your disease. I would ask you to make a toast to your cousin whom I also loved dearly and we would remember, and mourn and wish unfulfilled wishes in his memory. Then, I would tell you again that I loved you before you set down your empty cup to go. You would laugh and I wouldn’t realize that it was the last time I would hear your voice before your addiction brought you to your cousin’s side. But if by chance while we were drinking I somehow discovered that I would never see you again, my coffee would grow cold just from staring at you - trying to memorize your face and wishing our collective love could save you. Then I would hug you again with all of my heart and not let you go. C. Online condolences may be made at www.lwottfuneralhome.com
- A CELEBRATION OF ADAM'S LIFE Saturday, June 16, 2018
Adam M. Stinley
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June 16, 2018
So sorry to hear of his passing words cannot express the sorrow I felt upon hearing the news. I will truly miss his phone calls when he needed a fellow trucker to keep him awake while driving overnight. Best memory of Adam was when myself and my brother Greg took Adam and Josh and Tammy's 2 boys to Hershey Park Arena to a concert to see Audio Adrenaline. Adam was 14 and he and Josh were a riot in the back of my S10 Blazer no seat belts required for I didn't have 3rd row seating. We had shared a lot of laughs that day. Jesus said blessed are they that mourn for they shall be comforted and may the God of all comfort give comfort to all who are grieving.
June 6, 2018
The class of 2003 at Boyertown had some amazing, creative, intelligent, hard-working, fun-loving kids. I know, because one of them was my daughter and as a teacher at BASH, I got to know a good number of them. So many of these young people have gone on to be amazing adults; it's crushing when one gets cut short on that path, especially due to addiction. I thank Adam's family for their courage to say this out loud. My condolences go out to all of Adam's family & friends. May God bless.