Colton Reid Davis
December 23, 1998 - August 22, 2026
In Loving Memory of My Brother, Colton
Colton was one of my best friends, but honestly, he was so much more than that—he was my brother.
Growing up with Colton gave me some of the best memories of my life. He was one of the most genuine, kind-hearted people I’ve ever known. He lived his life with love at the center of everything he did. He would help anyone, and he would literally give away the things he had if he thought someone else needed them more.
When my family moved to Wheeling, Colton was the only friend who showed up to help us move. He didn’t make excuses or hesitate—he just came through. He was always willing to give his time, his energy, and whatever he had to help someone else. That kind of love is rare.
God’s hand was all over Colton’s life. He had a gift for making friends with anyone and everyone. People looked up to him in so many different ways, and everywhere he went, he left an impact. His presence mattered. His kindness mattered. His life mattered.
I’ll always cherish the conversations Colton and I had about the Lord. And through all the pain and heartbreak, that is one thing I’m especially grateful for—his faith. I find peace in knowing that his story doesn’t end here. I believe with all my heart that one day, through the grace of God, we will see each other again.
Colton, I love you, brother. I’m going to miss you more than words can explain. Thank you for every laugh, every memory, every conversation, and every time you showed up when someone needed you.
Your life may have ended far too soon, but the impact you made will continue through every person you touched.
Until we meet again, brother.
By Patsy DiCesare
Photo courtesy of Patsy DiCesare (right)
Denzel Ice
April 18, 1953 - August 26, 2020
Son, friend, veteran. Denzel was a long time part of the East Wheeling community. Anyone who knew Denzel would know he tried hard to protect those he thought were vulnerable. He was a loyal friend to people and animals alike. Denzel was often sharing the little food he had with the raccoons and other animals. Even when Denzel was in the hospital, his concern was not over his belongings or his camp, but worrying about his animal friends being hungry because he wasn’t there to feed them.
Photo courtesy of Kate Marshall
You Can’t Stay Here
A reflection on our neighbors
By Vincent DeGeorge
~To Denzel, and all of us who need a place to stay
I)
“You can’t stay here.”
Said the shopkeeper, level and sternly, whose patience could only last so long.
“We’ve had complaints from customers. I’ve got a business to run. Please, and thanks so much.”
“You can’t stay here;”
Said the officer, directly and for the umpteenth time.
“We got a call. It’s the law. Just doing my job. Come on now, you’ve got to move along.”
“You can’t stay here!”
Shouted the driver, livid, pulled over just to yell. Fed- and bottled-up from work, kids, bills; traffic, and a downtown falling apart; before seeing this and the malice just burst out.
“This’a public place ya bum. I’m calling the law. Get a job. Hawk Tew-ah”
“Y-you can’t stay here…”
Stuttered the Catholic Worker, as compassionately as practice makes possible, and after praying and waffling for a while.
“Can I get you something to eat, to drink? Here’s a coat. But, we just can’t have you staying here right now.”
What cause drives a person to just stay here? Just lay there, right here. In the middle of…
Just to sleep, drink, smoke, shoot. Not responsive. Nowhere better to be. Nothing better to do...
What a site? Curled up and crunched over, extra hair and clothes covering their own dirt, their own urine, their own pain.
What relief is a perpetual stupor? From pain of body, mind, spirit?
What plan could’ve prevented this? There are people to help, resources to get, shelters to go to, especially for veterans; had they only gotten there before three; five; eight; by now…
What initiative could get you out of this? A daily shower for starters, then rehab;
then a job, wife, house, life.
What happened to get here? A lost ability, home, limb, lover, hope?
What will come of this “staying” here? Can't you see, if you stay, keep this up - you won’t last through the winter, through the night, through the bottle.
What want is this, to stay here? Not to change, not to improve, not seek relief; just to stay?…
All you wanted was to stay here;
A want the world could not give.
You Can’t Stay Here.
II)
But now that time, and events, and you have passed,
And with new company and telos you’ve amassed;
You can stay here.
“You can stay here,” with perfect prosperity and patience that ever lasts.
There are no complaints. Nowhere to run. Please, and thanks so much.”
“You can stay here,” says the ultimate giver of law, for now and for all time.
“You’ve been called. The job has been done. No need to move along. No need at all.”
“You can stay here!” shouts the herald of Joy. Bursting with good news - for you, your family, your debtors and lenders, fellow travelers, the whole town;
“This place is yours! It’s written in stone. You were called ahead. Sit down your bum. Work no more. Halelu-ia!”
“You can stay here…” smiles with compassion all possible; finally a prayer.
There’s no need to eat, to drink, for a coat, for help. We can just stay here.
What cause warrants a person to just stay here? Just be there, right here. In the middle of all. Nothing to which to respond. Nowhere better to be. Nothing better to do...
What a site? Can we even recognize? Without all that old hair, dirt, pain? And now with a smile?...
What relief the world could not give?
What plan accomplished this?
What initiative could get you into this place?
What happened to get here?
What will come of this, staying here? Oh to see! To stay, keep this up, let it last.
What want is this, to stay here? Not to change, not to improve, not seek relief; just to stay?…
You Can Stay Here.
III)
And as you stay there, where you are;
Perhaps remind us, while here we stay,
That we might for each other make, it one bit easier just to stay,
and might one day with you, stay there too.