Love doesn’t die with death. Love is like liquid; when it pours out, it seeps into others’ lives. Love changes form and shape. Love gets into everything. Death doesn’t conquer all; love does. Love wins every single time. Love wins by lasting through death. Love wins by loving more, loving again, loving without fear.
Kate O'Neill
Obituary
Mitchell Garvin—beloved father, son, brother, uncle, nephew and dear friend—left this earthly realm on January 9, 2026, in Toronto, Ontario, at the age of 63.
Born in Kampala, Uganda, while his parents served in the Peace Corps, Mitchell was given a Swahili nickname meaning “little boy who loves the outdoors.” It was a prophecy that defined his spirit. Throughout his life, Mitchell held a profound reverence for the natural world. Whether he was riding his bike through a forest, shooting arrows, catching waves, or seeking the "perfect spot" on a river bend, he was a man most at peace in the wild, and most alive on a fun adventure.
His childhood journey took him across Montana, Massachusetts, Missouri, and Kentucky. In Montana, he learned the art of fly-fishing from his grandfather; in Massachusetts, his tenacity emerged at age ten when he hand-made his own hockey gear just so he could join a team.
This drive to create became his lifelong signature. Mitchell was a man whose love language was building, creating, making, and fixing. A gifted craftsman, he could figure out how to build almost anything—from bicycle frames, hand-carved archery bows and intricate metal art to his contribution to a whale sculpture for an Indigenous event. Everyone who knew Mitchell has a story about something special he built, made or repaired for them.
In the 1980s, his family settled in Toronto where he got into skateboarding, bicycling and became lead singer in the world-renowned punk band, Sudden Impact. Mitchell’s scream in their signature song, Sudden Impact, was legendary.
His passion for skateboarding and bicycling eventually led him to California, where he competed as a professional road and mountain biker. He rode and raced alongside his friends in the Marin County cycling community during the 80's and 90's, flying down the trails of Mt. Tamalpais. His mechanical brilliance eventually merged with his athleticism as he taught himself fabrication and welding, working with mountain bike pioneers like Steve Potts, Otis Guy, and Ibis, and building his own custom frames. His welds were flawless, and his "shop tales" as a legendary prankster are still told today.
Mitchell and Angela met in 1994, and fell in love, sharing beautiful adventures. Mitchell married Angela in 1998, and together they raised their two daughters, June and Isabella. Though they separated in 2022, they remained a connected family, supporting one another and their daughters with deep, enduring care.
As a father, Mitchell shared his passions with the next generation, serving as a 4-H archery leader and camp volunteer. Archery made its way to his heart, and he became a cherished member of the Sonoma County Bowmen, finding camaraderie in the quiet focus of the range.
Mitchell was a brilliant, caring, loving, complex, and fiercely creative soul. His last 18 months were a difficult time, yet a time that allowed for deepening connection with his extended family and lessons in what real, "badass love" truly looks like. If love were enough to keep him here, he would be with us still.
He was preceded in death by his father, Dr. Robert T. Garvin. He is survived by his daughters, June and Isabella Garvin; his mother, Charland Garvin; his sister, Sydney Garvin; his brothers, Chris and Matthew Garvin; and his former spouse, Angela Garvin. He also leaves behind four nieces, five nephews, and a large, loving extended family of aunts, uncles, cousins, and lifelong friends.
A celebration of life will be held on March 28, 3pm, at Dillon Beach. All who knew him are welcome. In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations be made to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) or a mental health organization of your choice.
Celebration of Life
A Celebration of Life will be held on March 28, 2026 - 3pm, at Dillon Beach. Rain or Shine.
Spoken tributes start at 4. Dress in comfortable layers for beach weather. Bring a bucket of KFC, a camp chair or blanket and join us around a warm fire to share stories.
Parking is $20 per car and limited - carpool if you can.
Gallery
Memory wall
Like many families, "I love you" wasn't thrown around too much, so I am genuinely thankful I wrote this story, and he read it, and even said I could share it with people. Thanks, Mitch, for being a stand-up older brother, and a stand-up human. I miss you.
Here is my story:
https://medium.com/the-narrative-arc/two-wheels-and-holiday-feels-the-christmas-gift-i-never-expected-0898ab905078?sk=8aff60c7ecc1e9522bad886de553bd65
Before I begin, and lest you think this story and the rest I’ll tell take the measure of the man, I want you reiterate what I and the rest of you know: That he was a really decent person with a mountain of integrity, and had an incredible work ethic.
It’s not entirely clear the exact origin of a series of pranks that will culminate in what will follow, but I can only assume it began when Mitchell was in line at some seedy liquor store and saw the rack of filthy magazines behind the checkout counter not as disgusting smut, but rather as a special opportunity. He evidently bought several of these and furtively brought them back to Carlsen. Over the course of the next few months he cut out some of the choicer depictions and hid them throughout the shop. Pulling at the roll of toilet paper and what appeared? Flip down your welding visor and what was taped inside where you were expecting to see a weld appear? Open a drawer in the kitchen to grab some silverware? It took a while to figure out who was behind this. I think it was at the point where he began adding his own captions using words cut out from other magazines (sort of like a criminal that sends an anonymous letter to the cops) that somebody noticed his work station had the remnants of cutouts, scissors, and tape at the ready and put 2 and 2 together. Once he was outed, you might have thought his prank would have come to an end, but it didn’t.
The owner of Carlsen & Associates (Jim Carlsen) had a motorcycle he kept at the shop. It’s not entirely clear when the filthy pictures got placed into the registration packet that was kept on the bike, but apparently Jim had no cause to look at or show the paperwork to anyone so the pics stayed with them for some unknown period of time. Eventually though, Jim sold the motorcycle to a mutual friend of ours named Gerard Nebesky. Gerard, took delivery of the bike, and as excited as he was to own it thought he’d take it for a spin before getting the title transferred into his name. While on this ride he made a minor traffic infraction and was pulled over by a police officer. When asked to show his registration and proof of insurance, Gerard simply handed the officer the entire packet and explained he’d just gotten the bike and would be going to DMV the next day to transfer the title. The officer took the packet back to his car to run the plates and verify what Gerard had told him. After a few minutes the officer returned to where Gerard was parked. He was visibly angry and had a ticket ready. He didn’t say why he was angry, but Gerard reported he’d been friendly when he pulled him over, but now was red-faced and curt…clearly very upset.
As promised the next day Gerard went to the Santa Rosa DMV with the intent of transferring the title. As with the day before, he handed over the entire registration packet to the DMV technician and waited for her to remove the documents. It was at that moment as she was removing everything from the sleeve he saw the pictures. Like a bolt of lightning, he grabbed the packet out of her hands and mumbled something about having to “go right now” and tore out of the DMV office. Once outside he took a close look at what was inside. He was so flustered he decided not to return to this DMV office, and instead went down to the Petaluma DMV to try again. We heard about the story maybe a week later, and while we all got a hearty laugh, Mitchell was particularly delighted….
I was lucky enough to share more time with Mitchell later on at HUFFAKER ENGINEERING, a job he also recommended me for. We spent long days and nights grinding away building bad ass race cars and enjoying every minute of it together. Honestly, Mitchell's influence on me and the opportunities for learning and personal growth he facilitated were life changing and overwhelmingly positive. He had an innate ability to steer those he was around in the right direction, always knew the best way to get you out of a funk and inspire progress.
I consider myself a far better person for having known him and will always cherish the good times we had together at work and screwing around after. Mitchell once told me regarding fabrication that "It always comes down to an eighth of an inch." and I have found that statement to be an undeniable truth of life over the years so I have been and will always from now on refer to 1/8" as a "Garvin" as it always reminds me of the fun, kind and amazing person he was. I will miss you my friend.
There have been some really challenging times for me in the past four years, and Mitchell would always be there, supporting me, cheering me on, using gentle humor or getting me to engage my warrior side to step up. I always did my best to support and encourage him, listen and empathize on his tough days, celebrate his victories large and small. Sometimes he would drive me crazy with his shenanigans (you were going to go off the grid in a kayak without telling anyone, and then your gall bladder failed?!), or the things he wouldn’t tell me until later, if at all.
He’s a special human who has done so much for others, often behind the scenes, that I did my very best in our friendship to surprise him with things that would give him a smile and bring him joy. We were walking next to each other during a time in our lives where having a playmate was just the thing, and boy did we have fun. My life is better for his friendship and his care, the laughter that we shared, the things we learned from each other.
I’m still absorbing the shock of the loss of our friend, but I will carry him always in my heart to future adventures, beautiful night skies, fun archery shoots, magnificent grilling extravaganzas, laughter with friends. I’ll spend time being quiet outdoors and see what Mitchell would see and listen to the wind. I’m grateful to be counted in the number of humans and animals and beings that knew and loved Mitchell.
I wrote a poem for Mitchell when I learned he had passed. I’ll share it here.
Each heartbeat
each breath
each footstep
every sunrise and sunset
so sweet and dear
we are but shooting stars, flaming bits of wonder
inbetween the trudging of the ordinary
the exquisite pain of being
feeling each cracked piece of heartbreak
eating dirt
getting up to do it all over again
I hope you feel the peace of that quiet time of dusk
the sounds of crickets and frogs
the crackling steps of deers and wolves and magic adventures
the green of the grass
the blue of the water
so many beautiful wild things I wish for you
Arwooooooooooo
❤️ ❤️ ❤️
All of us know that Mitchell was both an avid skateboarder and a very independent spirit. Sometimes that “independence” took the form of rebelling against "The Man", and in the case of this story The Man happened to be the Healdsburg Police Dept, specifically an officer who would occasionally patrol the skate park located a couple of blocks from where we worked at Carlsen & Associates. Mitchell would often go skate there before work or at lunch. One day while skating he was flagged down by a patrolling officer and ticketed for not wearing knee or elbow pads. Even though it was a nominal ticket amount, and Mitchell clearly was in violation of the posted rules of the park, and the officer had him dead to rights, he was fuming and incensed when he got back to the shop. First off, what’s the big deal? It’s not like he wasn’t wearing a helmet. Second, he was clearly a grown man, and if he was willing to risk losing a little skin in the bowl or on the grind rail what’s it to the police officer? It wasn’t like he was going to run home to mommy in tears, with mommy coming back to the next board meeting threatening to sue the City of Healdsburg. Third, he didn’t like the officer’s attitude. Waaaay too badge heavy, way too pleased with his authority. Mitchell’s displeasure didn’t go away after a good night of sleep. The next day he was just as angry, probably even a bit angrier. What a jerk that officer was! He probably loved throwing his weight around in front of a crowd of tweens and teens! A real dick!
Days passed. Each day I’d hear him recounting some new detail about the ticket, and what horseshit it was. “The guy probably kicks his dog!”……”Why would you give a ticket for that!!??”
About a week into this Mitchell asked me what I thought was the actual definition of a knee pad? “I don’t know”, I answered, “it’s just a knee pad I guess”. He said “Right, exactly! Anything that pads your knee is a knee pad!” Then he says “Look at this, what is this?” “A Bandaid”, I answer. “Yes, but what is this part of the bandaid” he asks, pointing to the little pad that sops up whatever is oozing from your wound. “A pad?” I venture… tentatively. “EXACTLY!” he shouts, all excited. “So if I wear Bandaids on my knees and elbows there is no way they (The Man) can say I’m not wearing knee and elbow pads!!!” I’m sure he didn’t hear anything I said after that…stuff like “the cop is never going to buy that, blah blah blah…”
Mitchell went to the skatepark regularly in the coming days, always with Bandaids on both knees and elbows. Ready for when Officer Jerkoff showed up…trying to oppress members of society as they always do, always will try to do unless people with Free Will push back against their unchecked authority. Because that's what The Man does.
Luckily that showdown never came, and I’m pretty sure after a few weeks Mitchell quietly started wearing real kneepads and elbow pads, which he already owned anyway. But he’d made his point.
We are keeping you in our thoughts and prayers.
One memory that comes to mind, is the day June was born, Mitchell was spellbound staring at her face. He sat and held her in front of him for hours. Finally he looked up at me, and I expected him to say something like, "she is so beautiful", but instead he said, "When she's 16, I'm getting a gun". It was so Mitchell, and of course I laughed out loud.
The day Issy was born, he sat in the same way, holding his baby girl in front of him for hours. When someone came and offered to take her, he didn't want to let her go.
https://unscriptedmoments.libsyn.com/bent-ep-106
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