Schawn Berry

I will bless the Lord at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth.

In Loving Memory of

Schawn “King” Berry

June 11, 1968 – August 12, 2026

There are people who fill a room, and there are people who fill the quiet spaces in between — the long car rides, the porch conversations, the moments when someone simply needs to be understood. Schawn was the second kind. He was a husband, a father, a brother, an uncle, and a friend whose love rarely announced itself, but was always, always there.

Born the fourth of eleven children in East St. Louis, Illinois, Schawn grew up in a home shaped by faith and purpose. Both of his parents were ministers — his father a Methodist pastor, his mother an ordained minister and missionary — and though Schawn would carry that faith quietly rather than loudly, it rooted itself deep in him. It became the soil out of which his gentleness, his sense of duty, and his instinct to care for others would grow.

In a house full of eleven children, he was known early on as a protector. He watched over his younger siblings, played endless games with them, and became one of the family's closest bonds — siblings who were, in every sense, also best friends. He was fast, too; in school, he ran track, and those who remember him then remember someone who moved through life with quiet speed and quiet strength.

As he grew older, Schawn became a licensed electrician, and it suited him — precise, capable, endlessly useful with his hands. He had, as his family describes it, “a knack” for fixing things, building things, and taking care of whatever needed taking care of. It was a skill his family leaned on for years, and it became one of the countless quiet ways he showed his love: not with declarations, but with repairs, with solutions, with showing up and making things right.

It was in this same spirit that he met the love of his life, Edith. They worked together as CNAs at a nursing facility — one of her first jobs in America, after arriving on a scholarship. They worked side by side for months before their first date at the Red Dragon. But long before he ever asked her out, he was already looking after her. He wouldn't let her lift anything heavy. He quietly took on pieces of her workload so she'd have time to study. She began checking the schedule, hoping to see his name present ,because she knew that if he was there, she would be okay. She didn't let on how much that meant to her — not yet. But it was, in hindsight, the beginning of everything.

With 3 children from a previous union and 3 with his lovely wife, Edith, they were able to cultivate a beautiful blended family. Fatherhood became the truest expression of who Schawn was. He was there for the ordinary, essential work of raising children — enrolling them in school, helping with homework, showing up for their activities, teaching them how to mow a lawn, how to carry themselves in the world, how to protect themselves, how to be in relationship with others. He taught not through lectures, but through steady presence. Weekends often meant engaging in family activities because togetherness was something he believed in deeply and protected fiercely.

To his siblings, nieces, and nephews, he was known as something like the family philosopher — the one who would sit with you and talk about things you'd never quite considered before. He'd point out the Big Dipper on a clear night and turn it into a lesson about the stars, about science, about wonder. He wasn't a man who sought the spotlight; in most rooms, he stayed quietly in the background. But once you got to know him, you found someone funny, thoughtful, intellectual, and endlessly willing to share what he knew. He was a teacher without ever calling himself one.

He loved family and good food because it came to represent comfort and home for the people who loved him. Even as his illness took hold near the end of his life, gumbo was the meal he asked for. He wasn't able to have it. But the fact that it was what he wanted says something enduring about the things that mattered to him: home, flavor, family, comfort.

Perhaps nothing captures the depth of his love for his children more than what happened in his final days. Though he had become largely unresponsive, incoherent in those last hours between life and what comes after, something in him remained tethered to his children. When one of them walked into the room, he woke - IMMEDIATELY. As if some part of him was still standing guard, still listening for the people he loved most, even as the rest of him was letting go.

Schawn leaves behind a legacy that lives most vividly in his wife and children — in the family mantra after a moment of prayer, in the way they were taught to care for others, to protect their own, to sit quietly with someone who needs to be heard. It lives in the childhood marbles played and trees climbed with siblings. It lives in touch football games in the yard, in barbecue smoke drifting through a summer afternoon, in a night sky and a pointed finger tracing the Big Dipper for a child who had never noticed it before.

What will never be the same is simple: the conversations. The particular way he could take an ordinary afternoon and turn it into something thoughtful, something worth remembering. That quiet, steady presence — the one who didn't need to be the center of the room to be the center of the family — is now deeply missed.

He is survived by his wife: Edith. His six children: Angel, Felix, Schawn, Gabriel, Blossom, and Ms. Hazel. His grandchildren: Yanni, Marlo, Billie, Royce, Annalise, Destiny, Jaiden, James, Adah, Yoshi, Logan, Greyson, Alina, Rhea, and Jai

Siblings: Carol, Jeffrey, Sherrice, James, Gregory, David, April, Arvon, and Rosa, along with nieces, nephews, and a wide circle of family and friends who were fortunate enough to know him — and to be truly known by him in return. We also acknowledge his transitioned family, Rosemary (Mother), Carl Sr.(Father), Carl Jr.(Sibling) who are awaiting his arrival with open arms.

Berry Family Mantra:

God is good all the time and all the time God is good.

For that is his nature.

A family that prays together stays together.

We are the Berrys!

He was a quiet man. But he leaves behind a very loud kind of love.