July 2021

I still remember the first time we met. You were a teenager, maybe 14 or so, and I was just getting started with my 20’s. You wore your signature flat bill hat, walked with your customary “old-man” slouch, and flashed that notorious smile. We were both so young then and just beginning our relationships with Arkansas Support Network (ASN). I was a new Direct Support Professional recently promoted to Home Supervisor, and you were a new “DCFS kid” (a kid who had been taken into custody by the State of Arkansas’ Division of Children and Family Services -DCFS- and placed with ASN as the result of a disability diagnosis and having no other appropriate place to go). You had that hardness in your face that most teenagers in DCFS custody come with. I learned early on to respect the knowledge and experiences that comes with that hardness and to not try to know it, understand it, or make it go away. It’s really not something you can know or understand if you haven’t lived it, and trying to make it go away for the comfort of the surrounding world only hardens the hardness more.

You made it very clear to all of us right from the start that you were a determined (read: stubborn) person who held strongly to your beliefs and was not afraid to tell anyone about them. You loved to talk and would talk for hours about the things you loved. Every person who knows you has stories to tell about this. But you also loved to think and would think for hours about new information and things that challenged what you thought you knew. One of the things I will miss most about you is a particular look you would get on your face when we were in the midst of a lengthy conversation/argument/debate and I would say something that you hadn’t previously considered or known. In response, you’d get quiet, and you would actively ponder the new information or perspective. You would be still and silent and give the process of considering something you’d never considered before adequate time and space. I’ve always been amazed by your willingness and commitment to do this, and I’m not sure I know anyone else who does it the way you always have.

Because you were always so committed to thinking, learning, and growing, the hardness on your face that came with you in those early days did not stay long. It was soon replaced by light, passion, and love. You took the traumas and pain that you carried and replaced them with commitment and devotion to the people and things you loved. You never went halfway on anything (except maybe a diet or budget or two early on), and somewhere along the way you fell in love with loving and giving to everyone around you. You certainly had every reason in the world to go many different directions, but I’m eternally grateful that you chose to be a person who invested in building his community and pouring everything he had into the people around him. You were a diligent and dutiful member of every team, employer, unit, organization, support system, family, or random group of folks you ever encountered, and every last one of us are better because of your devotion to us.

Dennis James Stewart, Jr. you are the embodiment of everything we believe at ASN. You illustrate perfectly that when we support people the right way, when we commit to them through the good and bad, treat them with respect, empower their expertise and abilities, and appreciate the unique gifts they bring to the table, they won’t only live wonderful and meaningful lives, they will make their communities and world better places to be. Thank you for teaching us what no textbook ever could and for doing it with such flair and so many sweet dance moves.

Rest in peace, power, and love, my friend. I will miss dancing with you for the rest of my life!

Love,
Syard