Danny’s Light: On Grief, Memory, and the Power of Doing Good.

It’s been over twenty years since I lost my friend Danny, and yet there are still days when it feels like he was just here. Like I can still hear his laugh in the room. Like I’m about to turn a corner and see his smile. Grief is strange that way—it doesn’t really end. It just finds a quieter place in your life. But even in its quiet, it still calls out.

Recently, I wrote a letter to Danny. It was one of those things you don’t plan—you just feel moved to do. I shared it with subscribers on a private page, but the more I sat with it, the more I realized that Danny’s story isn’t something to keep hidden in a corner of memory. His story deserves to be told out loud, in the light, where he always lived.

Because Danny was all sorts of good. He was all sorts of light. All sorts of kindness, humility, and heart. He had that rare ability to make people feel like they mattered, like they belonged. And even now, decades later, I still carry the warmth of his presence, the lessons of his friendship, and the ache of his absence.

This is not just a reflection on grief. This is about what happens after grief. It’s about the legacy someone leaves behind when they’re no longer here to speak for themselves. It’s about how, even in loss, something beautiful can grow.

Danny’s family created something extraordinary in his memory: the Daniel Dakum Foundation. And through that foundation, they’ve turned pain into purpose. They’ve taken what could have ended with silence, and instead made it a song—one that continues to echo in the lives of those the foundation touches.

I believe deeply in what they’re doing. And more importantly, I believe in the reason they’re doing it. Because when we lose someone we love, the world expects us to move on. To cope. To heal. To find closure. But the truth is, we don’t really move on—we move with the love. We carry them with us. And sometimes, if we’re lucky, we get to carry them into something that changes other people’s lives for the better.

That’s what the Daniel Dakum Foundation does.

It’s not just a name. It’s a movement. A continuation of Danny’s goodness. A reminder that kindness matters. That community matters. That helping people—especially in memory of someone who lived to serve, to uplift, to brighten the lives of others—is one of the most healing things we can do.

This isn’t a pitch. It’s not a fundraising campaign dressed in sentimentality. This is a call to anyone who’s ever felt the sting of loss. Anyone who still thinks about the friends they grew up with who aren’t here anymore. Anyone who’s buried those memories under the weight of everyday life and hasn’t yet made peace with how they said goodbye—or if they ever did.

Maybe you didn’t get to grieve the way you needed to. Maybe you’ve tried not to think about it. Or maybe you’ve felt that pull, like a whisper, urging you to remember, to honor, to do something—but you didn’t know how.

This is your chance.

Make a donation—not just for Danny, but for all the people you’ve lost. For the classmates, the cousins, the friends, the people who once filled your days with laughter and are no longer here to do so. Donate in their names. Donate in honor of the light they brought into your life, no matter how long or how briefly they were in it.

Let it be a message to the universe, or to heaven, or to whatever place you believe the souls we’ve loved go when they leave this world. Let your act of giving say, “I remember you. I carry you. And I’m still trying to live a life that would make you proud.”

Because sometimes healing doesn’t look like tears or silence or closure. Sometimes healing looks like action.

That action can be small—it doesn’t have to be grand. Your donation doesn’t have to be enormous. It can be the cost of a cup of coffee. It can be a prayer. A tribute. A seed planted in someone else’s life that grows into something you may never even see, but that still makes the world a little better. Just like Danny did.

The Daniel Dakum Foundation is a vehicle for goodness. It is a reflection of a life well-lived and a soul that still resonates. Through its work, Danny’s light continues to shine—and you can be part of that light.

This is about connection. About honoring the invisible threads that bind us to those we’ve lost. About choosing to remember, not with sadness, but with love and with purpose.

So today, I ask one simple thing:

Be good.

Be good in memory. Be good in action. Be good for someone who can’t be here, but who still lives in you.

And let that goodness ripple outward—through your donation, through your voice, through your heart.

Because Danny would have done the same.

Because they would have done the same.

Because we still can.

Donate to the Daniel Dakum Foundation HERE.

For Danny. For your people. For the light that never goes out.