Open Letter to Dave Para

Dear Dave,
You never say all the things you want to before its too late. I wanted to tell you how much i love you, how much you’ve given me as a friend. There is a piece of the world missing without you in it. I can’t believe i won’t be seeing you again. I hope we meet again in another lifetime.

One of my first memories of you is seeing you on the front lawn at Boulder High School, 9th grade, 1990. You always wore the red bandana, tied at four corners in knots, a funny hippie-hat. You had long curly hair, always covered by the bandana. But the bandana that earned you the name “bandana-man” among the freshman girls didn’t hide your dimples or your infectious smile and positive attitude. We became friends, and our groups of friends were friends. There were tie-dye shirts, Led Zeppelin and the journey to Vail in my blue blazer (Towanda, rah!). You taught me how to ride the back bowls, and tried stupid tricks on your snowboard. You showed me Monkey’s Traverse on Flagstaff. You always wore shorts to school, even during the cold of winter. We wondered if you even owned a pair of pants.

Remember after you got back from traveling in Australia and New Zealand? You told me about Tasmanian Devils (sound effects included) and Nutella and rainbow-striped long johns and feral kids. You told me that you used to drive pedal cab in Seattle, where you rented the bike-cab from a company, and got to keep all the money you made. So instead of charging a flat fee for service, you asked passengers to pay what they thought the ride was worth. When you started flight school, you worked really hard. You studied and borrowed and made sacrifices. You were really passionate about flying and becoming a serious pilot, which you did. I’m sorry it ended this way, but just think: at least it happened in Indian Peaks Wilderness – a beautiful place where you had spent a lot of time.

I loved your girlfriends, without fail. You chose to be with people that were beautiful and talented and wanted to save the world one day at a time, with smiles and creativity. Margaret, Julie, and Bree stand out especially. When i first met Julie i thought you had met your equal – she was as tall as you were short, she had crazier hair than you did, she wore mismatched and second-hand items just like you did! Then later, when you and Bree started going out, you showed me the little monster-pillow guy she had made for you, and i knew she was a great match for you.

I will miss you because you named your bike after your sister Miranda, and you tied streamers to the ends of the handlebars. I will miss your love of musicals: you liked the idea of people suddenly breaking out into song and dance when things get rough or sappy. I will miss you because you considered my pleas for you to join Cirque du Soleil, prompted by me seeing it for the first time. When i told you i was applying to Oxford for grad school, we laughed because you were wearing an Oxford sweatshirt – except you had gotten it from the free box or as a hand-me-down – not because you really wanted to wear something that said Oxford. You wished me luck all the same, and i was still expecting you to be ready to go to the jungle with me when i got back to go save biodiversity and All Things Good.

I was looking forward to seeing you again, to hearing about your life in the past year. I was looking forward to meeting your future kids one day. I was wondering how we could get you a plane so you could fly trips to aid conservation. I was hoping you could show me how to swing fire poi. I wanted to tell you about biodiversity and herbaria and nudibranches and rowing and sufjan stevens; food politics and Snowdonia and my nieces and Oostvaderplassen. One of the last times i saw you, we went to see Sweet Honey in the Rock at the Boulder Theater. Its somehow appropriate because their music helps me through the sadness of losing you. I know we all die, and we have talked about it, but i just didn’t get as much time as i would have liked with you. I would have liked to tell you one last time how great you are, what a blessing you are and how bright your light was you shone on the world. You were always there for me, even when we didn’t see each other for months at a time. I will miss you Billy D. I will miss your light in my life, and in the world, but i will try to continue to dance and celebrate as i know you’d want me to.

Love,
nomes

(for more info see http://www.denverpost.com/news/ci_4119473# . to all Dave’s friends and family, i am with you in attention and intention. i wish i could be there with you now. we will get through this.)