Obituary: Paxton Michael David

April 23, 2010 – September 26, 2026

Paxton was my son.

He was born on April 23, 2010, in Aspen, Colorado, to his mother, Amanda Lee Toft-David, and me, Shane David. From the beginning, Paxton was his own person. He had his own way of thinking, his own sense of humor, and his own way of looking at the world.

Paxton was funny. Really funny. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes without even trying.

He was incredibly smart and loved figuring things out. Give him a puzzle and he could disappear into it. The Rubik’s Cube was probably his favorite. He loved the challenge of looking at something that seemed impossible and figuring out how to make it work.

And then there were the Amigos.

The Amigos were Paxton’s people. They were his closest friends and some of the most important people in his life. If you found one Amigo, you usually found them all. They gamed together, laughed together, traveled together, and created memories that I know Paxton treasured.

I don’t think Paxton ever cared much about having a million friends.

He cared about having his friends.

The people who really knew him.

The people who stayed.

The people he could sit with for hours, playing games, talking, laughing, or sometimes not saying much at all.

Those friendships meant everything to him.

Paxton also got to see more of the world than most kids ever do. He traveled to Iceland, Costa Rica, Panama, Guatemala, Peru, Greece, France, New Zealand, Australia, and other places along the way.

He loved traveling, but looking back, I don’t think it was necessarily the places that made him happiest.

It was the people he shared them with.

Some of Paxton’s happiest memories were simply gaming with his friends. It didn’t matter whether they were in Costa Rica, Colorado, or somewhere halfway around the world. Put Paxton with his friends and a game, and he was happy.

We lived in Costa Rica during his freshman and sophomore years of high school. Paxton found things there that really engaged his mind. He loved robotics, programming, and AP mathematics. He liked solving problems and understanding how things worked.

Cross-country running, however, was a completely different story.

Running through the Costa Rican humidity and rain was not something Paxton was particularly excited about. Neither was exercise in general. Like most teenagers, he had a pretty clear idea of the things he liked—and the things he absolutely did not.

And that’s one of the things I will miss.

I will miss all of it.

The things that made me laugh.

The things that frustrated me.

The conversations.

The arguments.

The jokes.

The quiet moments.

Just having Paxton there.

On November 18, 2022, Paxton lost his mother, Amanda.

He was only 12 years old.

Paxton loved his mother more than I could ever put into words. He missed her immensely. Losing her left a hole in him that never really went away.

I watched my son carry that loss for the rest of his life.

And I wish more than anything that I could have taken that pain away from him.

Paxton had a big heart, even if he didn’t always show it in the ways people expected. The people who came to stay with him in Costa Rica while I traveled back to the United States for work became incredibly important to him. Those relationships became deeper bonds.

Paxton remembered who showed up.

He remembered who stayed.

He remembered who spent time with him.

And those were the people he held closest.

That tells me a lot about who Paxton was.

He wanted connection. He wanted people who understood him. He wanted people who would be there.

And he gave that same kind of friendship back.

Paxton touched so many lives during his short time here. There are people all over the world who knew him, laughed with him, traveled with him, played games with him, solved puzzles with him, and called him their friend.

Sixteen years was nowhere near long enough.

I am his father, so I know I will spend the rest of my life wishing I had more time with him.

More conversations.

More trips.

More games.

More arguments.

More stupid jokes.

More ordinary days.

I would give anything for one more ordinary day with my son.

Paxton died on September 26, 2026.

I don’t know how a father is supposed to say goodbye to his 16-year-old son.

I don’t think I ever will.

So I won’t say goodbye.

Instead, I will carry him with me.

I will carry his laugh.

His sense of humor.

His stubbornness.

His intelligence.

His love for his friends.

His love for his mother.

His Rubik’s Cubes.

His memories.

And all the people who loved him.

Paxton will always be my son.

He will always be Amanda’s boy.

He will always be an Amigo.

And he will always be the funny, smart, complicated, wonderful kid who changed my life simply by being here.

I love you, Paxton.

I always have.

I always will.

Dad

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Celebration of Life for Paxton Michael David & Amanda Lee Toft-David

1 p.m. Nov. 17, 2026

Location: 422 Cty Rd 162 Carbondale, CO 81623