Thank you Francesco.
My name is Aloysius Wong. I met and became friends with Shane a little over twp years ago through the Inaugural Gilson Seminar.
As you know, about 5 months ago, Shane's heart stopped. I learned the news through a call from Mateo while I was sitting in the building where Ned's Cafe is—just up the street from here—the cafe at which Shane drank plenty of coffee and spent much of his time.
Shane loved to talk. [LAUGHTER] He loved to debate and discuss any topic from history to theology to Assassin's Creed. [LAUGHTER] He spoke very quickly and typed even faster. [LAUGHTER] Shane had so much energy—more energy than the most hyper of squirrels in Queen's Park. Caffeine seemed to drive him to manic levels of speed and intensity in all his activities.
But it was Shane's heart that was the biggest of them all. Its depths were limitless; his love—for friends, family, peers, teachers, colleagues and strangers—boundless. His heart that allowed him to speak to eminent Cardinals and us simpler pigeons as well. And this same heart, his heart which—unexpectedly—stopped that fateful day in May.
But yet you see, Shane—as Francesco was saying—is still with us. His heart on Earth may have stopped, but Shane is alive. The heart from which that fire and passion and faith and hope and love came from is something that Shane shared with us, and will always be with us.
And he is here because of that very love that he gave us so much of. Because God is that very love. And God is with us and in us. And now, so is Shane.
Shane, you are alive with the Father's love, Jesus's mercy, and the fire of the Holy Spirit, and the soul of a saint.
We miss you, Shane. But we know you're still here, watching over us from the true blue of the eternal skies.