The first time I remember meeting Dan was 12/31/2002. He had invited my soon to be first love to the opening of Fuel where one their favorite bands at that time – My Hotel Year – was to be headlining the grand opening. Bill invited me, saying his friend Dan had invited him and even though it was New Year’s Eve, would I please go. He described Dan as one of the coolest and smartest guys ever. His childhood friend turned forever friend. I was nervous to meet someone so cool and so close to the person I was dating. Hoping I could measure up. I can’t know what Dan felt when we met, but I recall having that familiar feeling. The one you get so rarely in this lifetime, but when it occurs, its distinct and it’s unforgettable. It’s that knowing in your stomach when you meet someone you’ve known for what feels like lifetimes. Upon the initial meeting, you don’t really remember their face, or their smell, or their personality…. but there is a familiarity. As if when you showed up on this earth you were a tiny puzzle broken into fragments, and your sole mission was to find the missing pieces out there in other souls, looking for their missing fragments. You start with your family; they fill a few pieces. Then as you grow older you branch out and you find friends, lovers, and even sometimes acquaintances that fill the missing pieces of your puzzle. Dan was one of my pieces. I knew it instantly.
Through the next four years, I got to know Dan as the hetero life mate of my then boyfriend, but he also became my close friend. He showed me music that I had never heard, introduced me to true indie movies, showed me the unknown parts of Riverside and Springfield. He held my hand and cried with me the day my dad told me he was diagnosed with cancer. He bought Smirnoff ice for me (back before I knew better) the day I graduated and watched teen movies with me, but also not letting me forget how lame it was that that was all I wanted to do to celebrate graduating. ? We discussed books, fought over the correct pronunciation of verte (I was right, by the way), loved music together, and pondered the whereabouts and potential actions of certain goats together.
Dan and I were estranged for many years, but being a piece of my puzzle, when we reunited it was easy to pick up. We had to get past the initial anxieties of “are they still mad? Were they ever mad? Is it cool to greet with a hug?”. Dan was always loyal to Bill, but when we did reunite as friends it was with an understanding that he could, and did love both of us simultaneously. He was there to laugh his ass off at me when I got into my first and only bar fight, and over a chihuahua no less. We saw each other most Saturday nights for the better part of a year. Listening to Dan talk about math, science, or music was like Shakespeare speaking of prose. He had love and understanding of these, but also a reverence when he spoke of them. As if these were his religion. As if they were saving him from the demons that lurked beneath his surface. If he had these loves, he had the world. There are seldom things more beautiful than seeing someone speaking of their true loves.
The last time I saw Dan was in 2014. He was in the middle of trying to shake off his demons for good. I was getting married the next day and I asked him to please come to the wedding. He said he couldn’t make it, but he hugged me, and he whispered in my ear “remember me when I was happy. I’m going to be better this time. I love you”. The next few years Dan fought his demons over and over until he finally lost the battle. When I look back, I can see how those demons had been there all along, but he was able to keep them at bay with his youthful energy and the way young people can always believe their troubles are temporary. I don’t know when those demons became too strong for him to handle. But, to Big Dan, my sweet, kind, beautiful friend, I do remember you when you were happy. Before the demons really ran the show. I remember your laugh, your smile, your hope, your eyes, your love, your passion for music, your passion for knowledge, your passion to live. I don’t see your demons. I see the boyish excitement and wonder that was always shining in your eyes, at all times. No matter what. I love you, Danno. Then, now, forever.
