Excerpt from Maya Angelou’s When Great Trees Fall

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be better.  
For they existed.

Evan came to visit family in Colorado throughout his youth and into young adulthood. From hot summer days running in the backyard, sharing stories of pirates and wearing little more than a cape, to more recent times discussing essays and sipping warm sake; Evan’s enthusiasm for life’s small moments was tangible. On a bright December day, Grandma Marian, Ursula, Jake, Jeannie, Alex, Felix, Betsy, Dwight and Reid shared Evan’s ashes with the mountains. Overlooking Mt. Sopris, next to the old wagon that once brought settlers to the west, this place seemed to be the right spot to celebrate Evan. Always the adventurer, Evan challenged us to recognize and value the nuance of each and every extraordinary experience. We are better because he existed.

  - Betsy Bingham-Johns