SPB --1-12-85--12-1-08
My heart is with Shawn's family. He talked about Cairo as if it were Wonderland, or Neverland. And with Shawn's mom, who loves him the most of all of us. He loved her the most, too. And with Summer. That woman took great care of Shawn. She's a spectacular person.
I never met anyone who knew that boy and -didn't- love him. Half of us spent time -in- love with him. My mommy admitted to me three days ago that she'd always wished that Shawn would someday marry me. That's a dream that has lasted a decade.
I met him freshman year at H.W. Blake High School. The family showed a pic during his service of SPB at 15, hunching, looking like (as he would say) "A dork." That's the SPB I met. The one who wore socks with sandals for a semester, 'cause -I- did it --and he thought I was cool. He was the Buffy to my Wills in the Hellmouth of Blake. And the Hellmouth of Tallahassee. Pretty much... we were in Hellmouths together.
It's crazy, crazy hard, being here for -his- funeral, 'cause he is the one person I really need by me to go through the motions during this. I wouldn't have to say anything. He'd just be -right here- reading my mind and trying to get me to smoke more weed. Afterward he'd take me to his car and play slowed-down pop music to cheer me up. And offer me a Pfunk Light 100, a cigarette far superior to my brand.
This is really hard without him. But I'm so happy for him, too. Shawn was always pretty agnostic, but he always believed that Joss Whedon was God. I can say with great certainty that Shawn is in a place where there is no pain, no fear, no doubt. I believe he is happy. That he knows that everybody he cared about is all right. He knows. And he is warm, he is loved, and he is is finished. Complete.
Our Emo Shawn is finally happy.
My Emo boy is at rest, snoring.
I never met anyone who knew that boy and -didn't- love him. Half of us spent time -in- love with him. My mommy admitted to me three days ago that she'd always wished that Shawn would someday marry me. That's a dream that has lasted a decade.
I met him freshman year at H.W. Blake High School. The family showed a pic during his service of SPB at 15, hunching, looking like (as he would say) "A dork." That's the SPB I met. The one who wore socks with sandals for a semester, 'cause -I- did it --and he thought I was cool. He was the Buffy to my Wills in the Hellmouth of Blake. And the Hellmouth of Tallahassee. Pretty much... we were in Hellmouths together.
It's crazy, crazy hard, being here for -his- funeral, 'cause he is the one person I really need by me to go through the motions during this. I wouldn't have to say anything. He'd just be -right here- reading my mind and trying to get me to smoke more weed. Afterward he'd take me to his car and play slowed-down pop music to cheer me up. And offer me a Pfunk Light 100, a cigarette far superior to my brand.
This is really hard without him. But I'm so happy for him, too. Shawn was always pretty agnostic, but he always believed that Joss Whedon was God. I can say with great certainty that Shawn is in a place where there is no pain, no fear, no doubt. I believe he is happy. That he knows that everybody he cared about is all right. He knows. And he is warm, he is loved, and he is is finished. Complete.
Our Emo Shawn is finally happy.
My Emo boy is at rest, snoring.