I still hear his laugh…asking

“When you ‘coming home.”

No matter where I was, or how far away I roamed…

Less than a year that separates us, my Irish twin and me.

Unlike so many others, my problems he didn’t see.

He moved within the family like a beacon in the night.

Now we must live without the path that he did light.

His death is a void that can never be healed,

But the memories we shared, no one can steal.

A love like his does not diminish or depart,

for his bright drop of love will live on in our hearts.

David Hutchins Allen was born on August 6, 1958, the third child of Edward and Barbara Allen. Born with severe spastic quadriplegic cerebral palsy and a profound intellectual disability, he was not expected to live long. Barbara was advised to place him in an institution, but, as was her way, she quietly trusted her own judgment and brought her baby home—a single, extraordinary drop in a vast ocean.

David grew up in the Allen home in Centreville, Illinois, a lively household the family affectionately called “Grand Central Station.” It was home to Mom, Dad, five very loud boys, a tomboy with long braids, and, at various times, a grandmother and an assortment of animals. Barbara and Ed raised their children the old-fashioned way: the family ate dinner together every day, homework was completed, and everyone shared the chores. Even the boys learned to cook. Each person had a loving place in the family, and David was no exception.

The family often joked, “Telegraph, telephone, tell-a-David.” He seemed to know everything about everyone. He knew who was on the counter stealing cookies from the cookie box and who was sneaking into the house after curfew. “Daddddd, Ki-Ki’s sneaking in the house…” He knew who was in trouble, who was being punished, and what time each person needed to leave for work.

Eddie constantly teased David about girlfriends, and David met the kidding with laughter—and, from time to time, a “big” swing for good measure. He especially loved being spirited away by Eddie for a visit to Grandma Doris’s apartment, sometimes straight from the front porch without a word to Mom or Dad.

After her second bout with cancer, Barbara recognized that she and Ed were growing older and began searching for a permanent group home where David would be safe and well cared for. Following nearly five years of research, she chose Beverly Farms, a home for people with developmental disabilities. Established in 1897 on a 220-acre campus, it offered a swimming pool, horses, therapy units, and, most importantly, people who genuinely cared for those with intellectual and developmental disabilities. It was the perfect place for David.

In 2004, as Barbara faced cancer for the third time and with Ed no longer able to fully care for David, he moved to Beverly Farms.

At Beverly Farms, David made many friends and worked in the therapy unit folding towels. He even earned a small salary, which Lee constantly joked about stealing from him. David’s gentle, loving personality touched countless lives, including those of people with and without disabilities. He loved being around others, especially when his family gathered in town and brought him home for a visit. Like the Centreville home in which the Allen children grew up, family gatherings were loud, a little chaotic, and filled with love. David even traveled with Dad to Los Angeles for Karen’s 50th birthday party. Eddie and little Jeff helped him board the plane and accompanied them on the trip, turning the occasion into a celebration that will never be forgotten.

Through David, the entire family learned the patience, understanding, and the compassion needed to build meaningful relationships with those having disabilities. David is survived not by the family members I could list here but by everyone he ever touched. David truly was the heart of the Allen family!

As I sit here and look around, I think about how far our little family has come—how its branches have grown, how each life has touched another, and how those connections continue on, and on, and on, like ripples from a single drop in a vast ocean. David’s life touched all of us in profoundly positive ways. The ripples from that one precious life continue beyond his years, reaching people he knew and many he never met. David changed us all, and his influence continues to change us for the better.