A life well lived…
Kestutis "Casey" Bartkus
November 20, 1941 – July 9, 2026
He arrived in America as a fourth grader who couldn't speak a word of English, and over the decades that followed, he built an entire life from scratch: a family, a trade, a reputation, and a legacy. Kestutis "Casey" Bartkus passed away at the age of 84 on Thursday, July 9, 2026, at 10:26 a.m. — and before he closed his eyes for the final time, he told his family, "I've done everything I wanted to do in this lifetime." He would have turned 85 this November.
Casey was born in Lithuania on November 20, 1941, into a world already on fire, and from the very beginning, he had to fight to survive it. As a small boy, a soldier once showed him his gun, assuring his mother it wasn't loaded — but it was, and it went off, shooting Casey in the leg. The wound became infected, and while soldiers brought him toys and candy trying to cheer him up, all Casey wanted was for the pain to stop. It wasn't the last time fate seemed determined to test him: years later, while still a child, he was simply sitting in the path of a horse and buggy, with no idea anything was wrong, while the driver shouted and urged the horse forward — but the horse wouldn't budge. Only when the driver climbed down did he realize why the horse refused to move: Casey was sitting directly in its path. Casey always believed these moments were proof that he was meant to survive.
The family's journey out of Lithuania was its own test of survival. Casey's mother packed smoked bacon to keep the children fed along the way, and by the final stretch, she had to sell one of their horses to a German soldier just to make it. They were left with one cow and one horse to pull their buggy the rest of the way. It became one of Casey's favorite stories, and he never told it without laughing. And perhaps it's no surprise that for the rest of his life, tracking down the best and strongest smoked bacon he could find stayed high on his list of things to do.
After arriving in America, the family settled in Chicago, Illinois, where Casey later attended St. Rita's, an all-boys school. It was there he fell in love with the parallel bars and sock hops. At a dance at Lawn Manor, hosted by Jim Lounsbury, he met his future wife, Vicki Yelk, and worked up the nerve to ask her to see Li'l Abner. They married in 1963 at Nativity Church in Marquette Park and began their life together in a two-flat.
Casey began a career at International Harvester that would span more than 30 years. When the family later moved to Holiday Hills, Illinois, he continued with the company in Libertyville. Though their marriage ended after 24 years, Casey was deeply grateful that they found their way back to friendship later in life, and he cherished the time they shared together.
Casey was, above all else, a doer. Even though he worked second shift for years, during the winter months, he'd come home after midnight, look at his kids, and say, "Let's go hit the trails." And so they did — snowmobiles carving through hills too dark to see, his daughter's hands wrapped tight around his waist, trusting him completely to get them through. Lean right. Tuck your legs in. He always knew the way.
He was a successful beekeeper who secured a contract with Sue Bee Honey, and he believed, without a doubt, that honey and a good bee sting could cure just about anything. He was a horseman who bred and raced horses all the way to the winner's circle, an outdoorsman who hunted, fished, and rode bareback through high water in bare feet like it was nothing at all. He was a talented photographer and a devoted rosarian, always tending to something beautiful. He skied, ice skated, and could country dance and jitterbug like nobody's business.
He gathered mushrooms from all his favorite hidden spots, grew a garden every year, and picked raspberries, green onions, and tomatoes straight from the soil, eating them right there in the dirt where they grew. He never stopped living life on his own terms, chasing his own dreams, no matter what stood in the way.
But more than any of it, Casey took the greatest pride in being a father, grandfather, great-grandfather, uncle, friend, and teacher. Nothing made him happier than sharing the things he loved with the people he loved.
The last eight years of his life were a true gift to his family. After living out his dream in Kooskia, Idaho, for 17 years — building a house from the ground up, even gathering the river rock with his own two hands — Casey came home to McHenry County, Illinois, where he spent his remaining years in the home of his daughter, Salli Renz, in Spring Grove.
Casey was preceded in death by his parents, Bronius and Janina Bartkus, and his brothers, Kestutis and Algimantas Bartkus.
He is survived by his three daughters: Deb (Dan) and her children, Amber, Apryl, and Kyra; Julie; and Salli (Brian) and her children, Ashley and Jacob. He is also survived by his great-grandchildren, Sawyer and Hudson, and his nephews who were like sons to him, Albert and his children, Seychelle, Bradley, Mariah, and Asta, and Tony (Kellie).
To be around Casey was its own kind of experience. He had a way of turning strangers into friends before you even realized it had happened. He loved a good argument, and he could end one just as easily as he started it — usually with a hug. He loved to share his stories, and he loved food — always wanting to share it with whoever was around him, even the family dogs, Stormy and Jasmine.
A private celebration of life will be held by invitation only. The family is deeply grateful for the love, support, and memories shared by everyone who knew and loved Casey.
There will never be anyone quite like our Casey again. Thank you for showing us the way.
In Loving Memory