He loved red fire trucks, blue cars, his toolbox, 45 RPM records, crayons and coloring books.

He hankered after French fries, root beer floats, and many cups of tea.

He called all his caregivers, “Mom.”

His soft eyes mirrored the Light of God’s surprise.

He laughed from his tinkling heart.

He never judged anyone, nor spoke a cross word.

He never went to school, developed a career, married.

He aged with mirth – balding, toothless, his boy-body, shriveling and graying.

He hated needles.

He bounced back from multiple infections, heart irregularities.

He knew Jesus.

He lived with Down’s syndrome for sixty-one years.


His name was Johnny.


We grieve the absence of God’s hilarity in his face.