NC State superfan Grayson Ketchie’s party-style memorial honors continuing legacy
AI-generated summary reviewed by our newsroom.
- Roughly 100 friends, family members gathered at Phillips Farm to honor Grayson Ketchie
- Grayson died in February after ongoing chronic pneumonia and health challenges.
- The memorial was a festive celebration with balloons, cakes and NC State memorabilia.
Tim Ketchie, dressed in a rainbow tie-dye style button down, stood atop a picnic table under the main pavilion at Phillips Farm in Cary. His hands shook as he held onto several folded pieces of white printer paper and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from flowing.
Roughly 100 friends, family members and other loved ones looked on, tears in their own eyes, as they listened to him publicly eulogize his son Grayson.
To his left sat a large photo of Grayson and a small memorial. It featured Grayson’s urn, his favorite ball, Mr. and Ms. Wuf plushies, N.C. State hat, cardboard blocks and Mickey Mouse stuffed animal. A string of beads representing his various medical treatments and tests hung across the top, while tissues were appropriately placed nearby.
Grayson Ketchie, the famous and beloved N.C. State superfan, died a little over two months ago after an ongoing battle with chronic pneumonia and lifelong health challenges.
His parents, both of whom gave speeches, described themselves as lost and stumbling through each day.
“None of this feels real, and I hate every single thing about our new reality,” said his mother, Dianne Ketchie. “All I ever wanted was to be a mom, and I didn’t realize I was going to get to be a mom to the coolest kid ever. Fourteen years wasn’t enough.”
Though the tears flowed freely, and countless tissues were used to dry them, Saturday’s event wasn’t a funeral. In fact, it was specifically deemed a party.
Every detail felt like a perfect representation of the boy being honored. The welcome sign called the gathering a “celebration of a life well lived,” and other signs featuring Grayson and Ms. Wuf pointed guests to the party pavilion.
Photos were hung along two of the walls, others were used as centerpieces on the picnic tables, two television screens were set up as a digital photo album showcased more images. There were balloons, sheet cakes with rainbows and food trucks.
Guests were encouraged to wear red, of course, and rainbow colors. They were asked to sign heart-shaped ornaments, take friendship bracelets and keep “Flat Grayson” cutouts — a nod to the children’s book “Flat Stanley” — to accompany them on adventures.
“Could you imagine taking Grayson to a funeral?” said Gus Camille, former Ms. Wuf-turned-honorary sister. “Absolutely not. Grayson’s life was a party. Grayson brought the party everywhere he went. He’d be mad if we were having something boring and black. This is the embodiment of him. Everybody here, just having a good time.”
‘It was a whole new chapter’
Two of Dianne Ketchie’s main requests are for people to keep saying her son’s name and sharing memories.
That won’t be a difficult task for Grayson’s loved ones, who were more than willing to share their favorite memories. His party featured people he knew for years and those who recently entered his orbit.
Rachel Knudson lived across the street from Grayson’s grandparents. She remembers backyard barbecues and how Grayson would often tap the seat next to him, indicating he wanted her to sit. Another time, he saw her working on her car and crossed the street to see her. .
“He was tapping on the car, and they’re like, ‘Sorry he got away from us.’ I’m like, ‘No, this is great.’”
Similarly, brothers Lucas and Jackson Munden used to live in the Ketchies’ neighborhood. They remember when Grayson was adopted and saw him regularly until they moved to another area in the Triangle four of five years later. It was sad, they said, not getting to see him daily.
They’re now young adults but hold tightly to the memories of Grayson’s hugs and infectious joy.
“We will never forget when they brought in Grayson, we didn’t know how much that was going to change, not only their lives but our lives, as well,” Lucas Munden said. “When Grayson came in, it was like a whole new chapter. Every time that boy smiled, it would brighten us up.”
His former nurse, Terrani Hinnant, attended the event even though she worked with Grayson for a year and a half about a decade ago. It wasn’t a long time, she said, but he stuck with her.
Hinnant recalls being pregnant with her own son at the time. She remembers how he would pat her stomach. He also loved pulling out his trach — a piece of plastic that helped him breathe — like it was a game. It was such a memorable experience that Tim Ketchie mentioned it, too.
She said he’d do it at “any given moment,” then laughed while everyone around him panicked about reinserting it.
Grayson saw Anna Wicklund and her husband at the state fair last year. He couldn’t wait for them to come over for hugs and handshakes. Anna Craddock, one of Dianne Ketchie’s coworkers, said she loved the way Grayson used his tablet camera to zoom in on people across the room.
Those were only a handful of memories, too. Guests gathered to share their memories, laugh and honor his life.
“Somebody said, ‘Oh, do you know all these people?’ No, I don’t know all these people,” Camille said. “Grayson collected people from every facet of life. It’s lovely. It’s wonderful to see everybody come together.”
A forever connection
Grayson loved a little bit of chaos. Plans? Thwarted. Expectations? Smashed. He believed in fun, laughter and occasionally making his parents nervous.
He used those traits to bring people together. He knew how to forge connections with anyone, regardless of their background. He was friends with multiple iterations of Ms. Wuf, the N.C. State football team, softball team, and women’s basketball team. Grayson made friends with reporters, photographers, other fans and even his doctors in Chapel Hill. (Gasp!)
Not everyone possesses that gift, but he did. And his party was proof of that connection.
“There aren’t many of us who can say that we have impacted as many people as he did,” Dianne Ketchie said. “There’s no other reason this collection of people would be together if it wasn’t for a little boy who has connected us all. He did it without speaking, just showing up with love and an open mind.”
Rain pelted the roof at the pavilion while his parents spoke and as his loved ones spent time remembering him; the droplets so loud it was difficult to hear. Even with a microphone. Music kept cutting in and out. Somehow, though, none of those hiccups felt like an inconvenience.
For a boy who loved a little bit of havoc, it felt like a sign — one his family so desperately wants — and a reminder that Grayson’s legacy lives on.
This story was originally published April 26, 2026 at 7:45 AM with the headline "NC State superfan Grayson Ketchie’s party-style memorial honors continuing legacy."
