He was outrageous and mischievous, yet in his heart, he was traditional and old-world, his father’s son.
D.J. was devoted: as a son, as a brother, as a father, and as a friend. He was generous in every way.
Time and time again, he willed me to believe in myself—and I’m not the only person for whom he did that.
I marveled over the years of our friendship at how strong and positive he was. Even when he was young, he was an advocate and a guide to his friends.
He was an incredible hair stylist—and a great listener while he practiced his craft. You could rely on him to make you over and lift your spirits.
He could make a donut shop feel glamorous, a place to see and be seen.
I can think of no better way to while away an afternoon than in his company, eating pizza, drinking soda, half-watching TV, and talking about everything.
D.J. was a magical writer, and no matter how many times I told him that, he waved me off. But he was. His writing was all heart, all honesty.
He was also a savvy observer of
His all-time favorite movie was Xanadu. It’s improbable, glossy…a time capsule from our teen years. Mostly, though, that movie is about the timelessness of love. One of the songs says, “I only have to close my eyes, dear, and suddenly I’m where you are.” It’s always reminded me of D.J., always made me cry. Now I really know what it means.
I refuse to stop missing him, ever. And I will not say goodbye. He will be here with us, part of us, unforgettable. Because love is timeless, and he knew that.