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Footsteps fell flat on December pavement.

Shoulder slouch, hands do not
gesture.  No eyes meet, and people speak

in whispers.  Gloom is our color,
and pallor our friend.  Our whole world is s

tunned, since we never believed
in his mortality.  But it is true. Shawn Brown

has left Creede.  He was a fire
cracker from the very first...a brilliant blaze

of color that lit up the grayest
sky, making every day, every moment

with him the Fourth of July. 

 But like
all fireworks, he faded into the night,

and we must be content only to dream
of his clarity, his honesty, his brass. 

 One look in Shawn's eyes and you knew
what his mission was on earth: fun.

  And he never out-grew that, never got too
cool, too tired, too jaded.  Every day was new,

 and an adventure to be celebrated.
That's why we loved him so. 

 He taught us such a love for life was possible.
He showed us, through his art,

 through his work.... that there was beauty in
everything, and that we could gape at everything

in our lives as though we were
all children gazing at our first Christmas tree. 

 It is so very hard to imagine life
without him.  But I believe Shawn

has found a home, a place were he can play
without ceasing, a place where

he can draw all over the walls of the house of his
heavenly father and never run

out of ink, or of space.  A place where love, love
eternal and overflowing, surrounds him,

keeping him forever the happy kid we will
always know.  Shawn was pure love,

and, as the Psalmist said, Love cannot be
quenched or swept away.  S

Shawn has not died.  For in the love of God, nobody dies. 
We will see him again.

Under the cross at the lake is a place that Shawn loved to go. content when he was there. Now he can always be at home.