This last week I lost one of my very closest friends here in Georgia. I don't remember when I met Daniel, it seems like he was always just around. But I do remember when we started to become very close, and that was around the end of October of last year. He was having a very difficult time in his life and my roommate Tamra reached out to him in his moment of need and brought him into our lives. Since that day, you could find Daniel at our house nearly every evening and most Saturdays as well. He filled a need in our lives, a need that we had to feel needed. Knowing that Daniel was available at any time to give us a Priesthood blessing if we needed, was a great comfort to us as well. We in turn gave him hope and encouragement, something he desperately needed in his search for inner peace and direction.
I loved to be with Daniel. He had a passion and energy for life that I have rarely seen. Whenever he was here at our house he simply could not resist climbing all the banisters and onto the roof and hanging from every possible beam. He was small, but he was strong, and frequently complained that he was going to lose his 8-pack because we fed him too many cookies. Daniel and I spent many cumulative hours together at Wal-Mart, where we discussed everything from work and family to the Gospel and our futures. I think we probably went to Wal-Mart more in 1 month than most people go in a year. Some of our best conversations were held while wandering the aisles of Wal-Mart, looking for nothing in particular. Daniel was so giving and was so excited to do anything to please anyone. Most of all, he loved the Gospel and frequently talked about how glad he was that he had found the true church of Jesus Christ.
Fairly soon after he started hanging out with us (my roommates and I), Daniel began to get excited about going on a mission, and some days there was nothing else that he could talk about. I could feel the excitement within him and yet I knew his struggles, so I prayed that he would be able to bring his inner demons under control to the point that he would be able to fulfill his dream of going on a mission. But I think sometimes, as humans, we hang on to those things and habits that we know in the end could destroy us simply because they are familiar to us and familiarity breeds comfort, for better or for worse. And that describes what happened in the end, to my friend Daniel Shell. The last few days of his life were difficult ones, having injured himself physically and then being injured emotionally by someone he cared very deeply for. I know he thought he had found the best solution for everyone when he took his own life last Thursday.
When I got the news, I was in shock. I had lately been worried about him, because I had seen the signs of the inner demons beginning to resurface, but he had closed himself off from my comfort and advice. Not only mine, but everyone's. In his mind, he had a task to accomplish and he was going to do it; and not you, nor I, nor anyone could stop him. As I watched him head down this dangerous path, I could not do anything but pray, as I knew it would end in tragedy. Little did I think it would end so soon, or so tragically. And so it was, that when I heard the news, while outwardly I remained composed, inwardly I wept. I wept for the good man who had left this earth far too early. I wept for his family who would find it difficult to forgive. I wept for his friends, most of whom never knew Daniel as well as I or my roommates knew him and would not understand. And I wept for myself, as I had just lost a great friend and playmate.
In the midst of sadness, however, I find reason to rejoice. I believe in God and I believe that while he is just, he is also merciful. I know that my friend is not gone forever and that I will see him again. I believe that Daniel is now free from suffering and that God is keeping close tabs on him. I also believe that Daniel has the opportunity to share the Gospel that he loved so much with others who left this earth never having heard the good news. I'm sure that when President Hinckley passed from this life on Sunday evening, Daniel was right there at the gates, ecstatic to meet this great prophet. (Or, more likely, Daniel was climbing on the gates to have a better view). And so, given what I know, I rejoice. I rejoice that God sent his Son to break the bands of death and to give us hope of living with Him again. I rejoice in the presence of the Holy Ghost which has given me such great comfort these past few days. Lastly, and most of all, I rejoice in the knowledge that my friend is at peace, and that someday, hopefully later rather than sooner, when I leave this frail existence, he will greet me with the same big hug and bright smile as he always did when he was alive.
In loving memory of Daniel Lee Shell (1986-2008)
