They lined the streets with silence, a somber sense of reflection filling the void of their words. A hero was gone...

He was not gone by his own choice. He had been full of life. It spilled out of the laughter that inevitably followed all of his escapades. We couldn't help but love him. There was life in every hug he gave and hand he shook. He was full of it. It infected everyone around him. The choice of death was not in him.

They smiled softly as their memories ran to him, stayed with him. Slowly, the memories turned into stories to be shared. Though their smiles faded as eyes clouded with the regret of time lost, the depth of their feelings lingered on. They were filled with sorrow at having to reminisce so soon. But, they did. And, though the joy of experience was now changed into mere fondness of memory, it brought color to the dark situation...

Life infected everyone around him. It was contagious. Sometimes, it seemed like he was immune to the gravity of severe situations, as if pressure couldn't find him. He had a certain lightness of spirit. However, he was not without a sense of honor. He had honor to spare. Indeed, it was an honor just to know him. He brought everyone around him to their most lively states. His life could only be described as "full". The choice of death was not in him.

There they stood in the darkness, the silence pierced only by the toll of their grief, each tear ringing out a haunting, "Why?". The toll was great, though they knew the answer before their aches asked the question. The answer was a small comfort...

Though the choice of death was not in him, his great sense of honor led him to sacrifice. His comfort for our comfort. His freedom for our freedom. His life for our lives. It was a sacrifice made necessary by a war much bigger than he was. And, I'm absolutely sure that, had he known the great cost, he would have chosen sacrifice every time the chance was presented. He wasn't one to back down. He was a doer through and through. And, his final act, fighting for the freedom of so many, touched us all. His sacrifice was much bigger than he was.

They knew he had died for them. And, their grief was overwhelming. The pressure that couldn't find him instead found them and loosed their tears. Tears of sorrow and fondness and anguish and remembrance and love. And, the only comfort they found was in Christ. For, he had been a follower. They knew it was only a matter of time. They would see him again in a place full of life, devoid of the anguish and sorrow of loss. They would see him again, so they knew it was only a matter of time. Still, their tears rang out for the time with him that they had lost...

Slowly, healing will come. Slowly, the scar of sorrow will mend. But, it will not be forgotten. He will never be forgotten.

-In Loving Memory of Shawn Patrick Hefner

12/04/1986 - 11/13/2009