Dan

Psychologists insist that anger is a legitimate stage of grieving, and so I admit. I feel like cussing. I am angry. I've been thinking all day about how much I want to sit shiva for Dan, my friend who died on Tuesday. I want to spend seven days sitting around with friends, laughing about the good times, eating, crying and remembering. I suppose this is what I feel like cussing about. Dan was not Jewish, and I guess I'm not either. But that particular discipline is a really important one. Grieving is something I feel like I know too much about. And what I've learned is that not allowing it to take it's course; not meeting, talking, crying and eating, is the worst thing you can do.

I am also angry that this is the second person I've loved that I've eulogized in as many weeks. As horrible and shocking as it was to lose Barbara one could not deny that she lived an incredible, full life. Six children, many grandchildren, friends, family. And Barbara's beloved had left this earth four years ago- she must have longed to be with him again. She told me often that she was pissed at him for leaving her so early.

But Dan. Dan, Dan, Dan. He had half the years Barbie did, but he squeezed every last drop of life out of the time he had. He travelled the world with amazing musicians, including Regina Spektor, played SNL (!), Ellen DeGeneres, played for Coldplay. Pretty much the 'bucket list' for any musician. He had a beautiful wife, a gifted artist in her own right, and a gorgeous baby girl. His family was just beginning. He should have had 20, 30, 40, 50 more years with them.

So I met Dan at the Manhattan Vineyard Church. I was not yet a Christian, I was investigating. I'd gone once with Matt, but he was on tour and so I went alone. I cried during the worship time. The music pierced me. It was so powerful, moving and minor. Not what I expected. I don't remember the line up, except for Dan. He was the cellist. I approached him with some bizarro boldness I didn't have and simply asked "I'm a singer songwriter. Would you play with me?" He said "Ok." And kinda smiled and shook his head.

Dan was a Christian. He answered alot of questions for me, but he never evangelized. He'd smile and kinda shake his head when I'd say or do something that indicated I was 'getting' it. He was proud of me. He was sort of, protective. When I said or did something that indicated that I wasn't 'getting' it, he shook his head again, but this time differently. I cared tremendously what he thought of my life, and my choices. When I was baptized in the middle of a lighting storm on the beach at Coney Island, he and Julia were there. With a camera. Because of them I have a record of this major milestone in my life. Julia made a collage for me with pictures from the baptism and scriptures and framed it, presenting it to me as a gift a few weeks later. I was blown away. I knew I had become a part of a real family. And they were a part of it.

Dan was a man of few words. But the ones he did speak, meant the world. He was so mellow about everything, I sometimes wondered if he liked playing with me. He seemed content, and interested, but I am a chick who needs a lot of reassurance. When I would ask him what he thought of a new song, or a new arrangement- he was honest, and encouraging. Musically, he provided a depth and resonance that those early songs probably didn't deserve. I remember recording his part of "Gulf of Mexico"- on "Mary's Daughter" the song I wrote about Jeff Buckley's drowning. I see the irony in this only now. He played a cello part that made the song. It was far more emotional, and powerful than any guitar solo could've been. And since there were no guitars on my record, by choice, Dan was it. He was my lead player. He colored everything he played with honey, resin, and love. I don't know how else to say it.

When I saw him in Houston, he was on tour with Regina Spektor. I was proud that Dan had graduated to such heights. He was protective of her too. Apologizing in advance for her if she didn't say hi to us, explaining her voice is strained, she's been sick. He loved playing with her, and she obviously loved playing with him. Her songs deserved him. It was a perfect fit. He was luminous at that show; the honey tone warming and washing Regina's songs. He got us the most rock star seats in the whole place, and I kept shouting "Dan!" when ever I thought it wouldn't embaress him too much. We drank green tea, we swapped baby pictures. Being away from Julia and Audrey was really wearing on him, Matt and I could both see that. I had the sense that he planned to get off the road in the somewhat near future, but he didn't say anything specific.

Dan was loyal. I kept expecting him to flake out on my in those early days and he never did. I wouldn't have blamed him. He certainly wasn't playing with me for the money. But he would always be there. I remember our first rehearsal, at a divey rehearsal room off of Times Square- just him and I. He was excited and prepared. I couldn't have hoped for more. This is not all I will say about Dan, but this is all for now. I hope this paints a bit of a picture of the person who he was, at least to me.
Posted by Cameron Dezen Hammon a