A Good Man Goes Home

Norfolk ~ Sean Bowers left us on April 23, 2026 – much too early for his family and friends – but quickly, cleanly, in keeping with his soul purpose and sense of mission.  An advocate for social justice, poet, writer, outspoken helper and person of faith, those who love him know he followed the Light Home, and suspect he has already begun on his next Assignment.

How to lose a husband, a son, a friend like Sean?

His wife, Kimberly Gales, whom he adored, returned the favor.  She said Sean introduced her to his friends around the world, took her bicycle riding in the State Park, to poetry Open Mics, and encouraged her to get back to creating art and jewelry.

Their dog, “Moses,” (named after Harriet Tubman) misses the large chest she slept on as a puppy and their special walks.  His mother, Judith Stevens, misses his easy humor, the quick one-liners that made her laugh, his sweet heart and loving nature.  His best friend, Dave Ford, his basketball buddies and poet friends, miss his kindness and loyal friendship.  His father, Bryan Bowers, laments their lost moments together. His stepfather, Jack Callan, is amazed at the enduring closeness of Sean’s relationship with his mother.

His relatives miss his ready laughter, his gifts of music CDs and bicycles – his love of surprises. His grandchildren miss his unqualified support of their endeavors, his positive outlook, and his ready encouragement.  His colleagues at the New Journal & Guide will miss his irrepressible spirit.

Generous to a fault, his donated bone grafts, skin grafts and a valiant heart valve will all find good homes.

How fortunate we were to have known and loved Sean Camile Bowers for as long as we did!   Go with God, Dearest.

Sonnet: On the Death of a Best Friend

I cannot think of losing you just now –

Not while there’s Springtime greening In the leaf –

Not while Spring’s verdant scent is on the bough –

Not while your presence mingles with my grief.

I see you in the changing of the trees –

In early April’s dusky velvet rose.

Sweet olive wafts so gently on the breeze,

And scarlet sage is blazing as he goes!

‘Twas you who showed me honeysuckle bloom,

And pointed out the mourning dove’s soft call.

Your friend, the mockingbird, sings through the gloom

A rooftop eulogy for one and all.

Perhaps in time, but do not ask me how –

I cannot think of losing you just now…

                Judith Stevens