Steven Paul Schreyer

From the moment he entered this world, Steven was truly special—a gift entrusted to a family who would love, protect, and learn from him for the rest of their lives.

As Steven grew, it became clear in early childhood that his mental capacity would not progress far beyond that of a two-year-old toddler. Yet what he lacked in cognitive development, he more than made up for in purity of heart, consistency of joy, and an extraordinary ability to love and be loved. Steven spent his early years at home, surrounded by Mommy and Daddy, three devoted brothers, and a little sister who cherished him deeply. In that home, Steven was not defined by limitation, but by belonging.

During his childhood, Steven spent several years at the Training Center for the Handicapped, where he quickly became the “star of the show.” He was visited often by family and extended family, always greeted with excitement, pride, and unconditional love.

More than 30 years ago, Steven moved into a residential home in Millcreek, Utah, supported by the incredible team at TKJ. There, he gained a level of independence that brought him tremendous pride and joy. He enjoyed helping with house and yard chores and held several meaningful jobs over the years. Among his favorites were working with the horses that pulled the winter carriages in downtown Salt Lake City, caring for dogs, and—most proudly—his many years at Stringham Lumber. He loved the people there, and that job gave Steven something profoundly important: the feeling of being needed, appreciated, and valued.

In his teen years and into young adulthood, Steven participated in the Special Olympics, supported enthusiastically by his family. There were always surprises along the way. While Steven loved winning a shiny medal, he also demonstrated remarkable sportsmanship—most memorably when he stopped mid-race to help a fellow Olympian who had fallen, choosing kindness over victory.

From his earliest days, Steven had a few passions that brought him pure, unwavering joy. While most of us see our interests change over time, Steven’s did not—and those who knew him best were blessed by that beautiful consistency. His greatest joys were time spent with Mommy and Daddy, an unwavering belief in Santa Claus (“Ho Ho”), airplane rides, Disneyland, and fishing.

Steven treasured his annual trips to Disneyland with his siblings. They rotated the honor of hosting him for the flights, Mickey Mouse visits, and—when timing aligned—even the Disney Santa parade, which for Steven was nothing short of magical. While everyone delighted in giving Steven joyful experiences, all would agree they received far more in return than they ever gave.

Steven formed deep bonds of trust and friendship throughout his life. Among them was Kevin, his closest non-family friend for many years—an amazing, caring, and trusted companion who served as Steven’s beloved “house manager.” These relationships were a beautiful testament to Steven’s capacity for connection.

It is a rare and wonderful thing to carry the pure beliefs of a toddler through an entire lifetime. Steven did just that, giving those around him the extraordinary gift of celebrating holidays—especially Christmas and Halloween—with unmatched joy, wonder, and authenticity. Yes, Steven truly loved Halloween, too.

Steven communicated through a unique blend of words and sign language understood best by those who knew him well. Many of us could “speak Steve.” He even developed signs for each of his favorite Disneyland rides—often earning his family a fast pass to the front of the line.

Steven has now returned to his Heavenly Father and into the loving, welcoming arms of those who went before him, including his Daddy, his brother Big Stu, his nephew Bryan, and his grandparents. One can only imagine the joyous reunion—complete with restored awareness, clarity, and peace.

Steven is survived by his beloved Mommy, Fay Schreyer; his brothers Scott (Tina) and Stan (Jenny); his sister Suz Davies (Ro); and many nieces, and nephews who loved him deeply and were forever enriched by his gentle spirit and lifelong lessons.

Steven’s life reminds us that greatness is not measured by intellect or achievement, but by love, consistency, kindness, and joy. He taught us how to slow down, how to celebrate simply, and how to love without condition. We are better for having known him—and forever changed because he was ours.

The family would like to express their heartfelt gratitude to Dr. Havard and the staff of Utah Cancer Specialists, as well as Jan Mills and the compassionate team at Aspen Ridge Hospice, for the loving and attentive care they provided to Steven.

Funeral services will be held at Wasatch Lawn Mortuary, 3401 South Highland Drive, Millcreek, Utah, on Thursday, February 12. A viewing will take place from 10:00 to 11:30 a.m., followed by funeral services at 12:00 p.m.