A year ago, on January 1, 2015, one of my very good friends from High School left this world. He left it on his own terms and left all of us shocked. Due to not having a car at the time I was unable to attend his funeral, and was left to deal with the loss of a friend without the support of my friends in person. They were only a call away, but that's not quite the same thing. It was for me a surreal, and sad time.
But I don't think I completely came to the realization that he was gone. I hadn't seen proof positive that he was gone and so I didn't want to believe he was gone. I would constantly have to remind myself that he truly was gone. That he wasn't still studying at the U, that he wasn't still playing his violin. That he wasn't still being condescending in his charming Dallin way.
They say the last step of grief is Acceptance, and I think I'm finally there.
Today, for the first time in over a year, I found the courage, and a friend, to go visit his grave. With a little bit of help and a yellow rose we found Dallin's grave. I couldn't help feeling, as we wandered around that cemetery, that I was too young to be trying to find a friend's grave. I am only 19 and I was only 18 when he passed away. Ashley and I were too young to be in that cemetery searching for a friend. And then Ashley said "that's what our life is going to be from here on out"
"I guess you're right, weddings and funerals, although I do hope more weddings first."
When I first met Dallin it was in AP World History our Sophomore Year. For most of that year he was convinced I was a robot, and not a real girl
Because I didn't giggle.
Dallin was a gifted violinist. He could play anything at the drop of a hat and he could play it better and faster than you. Our Junior year we played Vivaldi's Summer, he was the soloist. And the rest of us groaned because the kid would play at Warp Speed and our fingers would struggle to keep up with his genius. The next year we did a fundraiser concert with all of the Four Seasons. Dallin once again played Summer, and all of us good-naturedly ribbed him about his speed.
I still find it hard to listen to the Four Seasons without tears in my eyes.
Senior year I wanted a constant quartet to play with throughout the year. As soon as I started to consider it the name for 1st violinist was obvious. There were four of us, as a quartet would denote, and we would get together every Sunday to practice. It was a wonderful experience to be able to play with Dallin, Lauren and Dan every week. They were amazing. They are amazing. We played so many things together. We didn't just play the notes on the page. We made music. We made memories.
I remember one Sunday when Dallin came with an idea that we should play Always by the Beatles. Well really that he and I should. He had been listening to the song over and over again. Painstakingly picking out the harmonies and melodies, did I mention he had perfect pitch? I ran into that hand written piece of music again earlier this year. He was good at what he did.
Dallin and I would have long conversations over Facebook. Many life conversations. He made me think deeper than I wanted to. He made me consider aspects of things that I would never have on my own. Dallin's brain was different from mine, genius. He was a thinker, he saw things in life different from the way that I did, and it was fascinating. He wouldn't let me skate by on a "because that's the way it is" answer. He always asked me why. He was like a little kid that way. He never grew out of the "why" phase. And that was amazing. The kid had genius musically and logically, and it was inspiring, often frustrating, and generally enlightening.
He was someone I shall not soon forget, and I am truly grateful to have known.
Thank you Dallin, for making me think rather than skate.
For helping me hear the music.
For just being you.
In Loving Memory of Dallin Joseph Shepherd
1996-2015
