On Friend #36, Danielle
The passing of a daughter, sister, and friend
Dear friend,
Like a bolt of lightning that ignites fire, tragedy has struck my street, Sorrento Drive. Beloved Danielle, friend #36, fell asleep in the early hours of Friday, April 3rd and never awoke.
My younger brother Jesse’s classmate's early and sudden passing has left us all in shock. At Danielle’s funeral on Tuesday, the Rabbi avowed that we should not count the number of years she lived, but instead measure the impact of those years.
My participation in this equation seems almost unworthy, but I can do what I know, tell you about someone so that you, too, can get to know my friend.
Danielle was gentle and found joy in life’s simplicities. A gifted piano player and writer, she was in the middle of writing a book on our individual relationships with G-D. Naturally, I found a friend in someone who wrestled with ideas; instinctively empathetic to people she knew and met.
Her life ended on the third day of Passover, a holiday which celebrates the Jewish exodus from Egypt. A time when we are reminded of our humility and eat an unleavened flatbread made with just flour and water, called matzah.
Danielle, like matzah in its symbolism, was humble, grounded, and satisfied with the essentials.
In 2005, on my brother’s first day of grade one, my father turned around to see his former high school classmate, Diana, with her daughter Danielle. Serendipitously, as two families, we stayed connected since then—Jesse and Danielle founded a band for the last two years of elementary school, in 2011, we moved onto the same street, and at the end of 2022, my mom introduced Danielle to her long-term boyfriend.
“Do you want to hear something funny? They like each other,” my mom texted me about a romantic match I foolishly discouraged when she described it beforehand. Then, I learned a lesson—never to prevent connection, as it will forever remain a mystery why two people fall in love, and Danielle was deeply loved by her boyfriend.
When the two of us met, Danielle and I, she often spoke about the difficulty of making friends. As I worked on 52 Friends, she helped me understand that as a community, we should openly welcome one another, not just be nice, but to genuinely and wholeheartedly get to know and include each other.
Selfishly, now, I wish we had more time to build our friendship. Maybe it would continue to be as playful as our families’ reconnections. It’s sorrowful to imagine what will never be.
Following the funeral, this past Tuesday, we sat Shiva. In Judaism, a formal seven-day mourning period during which we reminisce on memories of our loved one. It felt warm to sit together as friends and family. My brother played an old video of Danielle singing from their band days.
I never know how to feel about meeting new people in unfortunate circumstances, but we’re all connected by our love of Danielle.
May her memory be a blessing, and may peace be upon her.
Love,
Miriam