Daniel West Memorial Service Speech

Danny was my teacher.
When I was small he taught me that there was never a time NOT to dance.
Later he taught me that those you care about are worth putting up a stink so as to be near them. He gave me books, and when we knew I was going to St. John’s, he gave me French books to translate (including this, of Baudelaire, that he bugged me to read). At this point, he began to ask me opinions about philosophy, theology, feminist theory, and relationships, insisting two months ago that I read EB White’s Essays. Danny’s reading recommendations have consistently become, page by page, more influential and more important in my own writing and thought, through some insight of his own.

Danny was my mentor.
He spoke to my girl scout troup about his dances.
He was at holidays every year (when, and which one, was always a question though).
He instigated a many-year long surprise gift-exchange involving a strange, extremely old set of pliers he once owned and my grandmother, showing that it is always worthwhile to give whatever you had.

Danny was a father.
He told us all stories that he refused to repeat, revealing more and more fascinating parts of his person than previously considered.
He moved me in to college.
He drove me to the hospital when I had surgery.
He met my boyfriend and warned him to love me.

In the last year or so of his life, Danny seemed to be forgetting this.
He would call me with questions he was very concerned about. He talked to me about the woman’s position in the church, asking me if his opinions were permissible. He asked me about water quality, concerned not only about his beloved Chesapeake Bay, but that I was learning enough to protect it. He asked me about matters of life, of love, of family, of faith, of philosophy and of friendship. He turned me into his teacher.

Danny is now something else. He is not around anymore to hold me, or to ask me things, but he is around. He is still my teacher, because he is teaching me about how to live in a world where my love perhaps is no longer requited, but just as strong. He is still my mentor because he is showing me how time and trust can truly humble you. He is still my father, as he shows me that sometimes your strongest family comes later in life than you thought.

Danny will always be these people to me, and I am excited to see how these roles change as I continue to grow up. He will not be standing there with me when I get a masters degree, or get married, or have a child, or get promoted. But he will be, because he has sat and talked with me through all of the fundamental principles necessary for these things to happen, and I am indelibly marked by his insight.

This Baudelaire was a gift, that I used all through my junior year, translating line by line the Frenchman’s poetry, opening up questions from Danny every day in class. He asked me for years if I had read these pages, and when finally I explained that yes, I translated them, he asked why it took me so long. I explained that I had to learn ancient greek first, and he told me it was a poor excuse. When searching for something to read here today I landed upon this one, that touches upon how we are all in the same boat as danny now, he just happens to have reached his destination sooner than we will.