09/20/2026
It is with a very heavy heart that I share the passing of my very, very dear friend, Danyelle Whitehead / Deedee Whitehead.
I am still in shock and disbelief that she is no longer here.
Danyelle and I shared a rare and very special connection, like a sister you actually like.
We understood one another in a way that did not require much explanation. Our conversations were always powerfully honest because we both knew that neither of us could successfully hide the truth from the other.
Sometimes it felt as though we had known each other through other lives, planets, and planes of existence. Perhaps that is why her leaving this one somehow makes sense, and, at the same time, feels completely impossible.
Danyelle is a magical person. No one who knew her could effectively argue otherwise, and there will never be another person quite like her.
She was goofy in the very best way and could find something funny to say about almost anything, usually because she wanted to make someone else smile. She had insight and wisdom for everyone, although she often seemed to skip over caring for herself because she was so busy caring for others.
She loved deeply and carried far more than one person should ever have to carry. She was a fighter and a survivor, and if there was a rough road available, it sometimes seemed as though her internal navigator would take her directly to it. Yet she still laughed deeply. She still found ways to enjoy life whenever and wherever she could.
Days before she left us, I had a moment when I could no longer hold back the tears.
Somehow, the process of grieving her had already begun, although I could not yet have understood what was coming. I know now that this will not be a grief measured in days or weeks. It will unfold for years because she has become part of who I am.
In the days since learning of her passing, I have found myself moving much more slowly.
My entire sense of time seems to have shifted. The things that once felt urgent no longer carry the same weight. It is as though urgency itself has begun to lose its authority.
The fragility of this human experience changes what feels worth pushing for and what does not. It asks us to reconsider which demands truly deserve our limited time, attention, and life. Things that once seemed so pressing can suddenly feel very small, while something as simple as sitting quietly, noticing the light, taking a breath, or being fully present with another person can feel sacred.
Perhaps moving slowly is not falling behind.
Perhaps it is what happens when the heart begins to understand that none of us were promised as much time as we imagined.
And Danyelle is still teaching me.
She is still teaching me about compassion, understanding, presence, and the courage required to allow both love and truth to have a voice in our relationships. I am learning that sometimes the difficult truth is far more loving and valuable than a comfortable half-truth. When someone matters, we owe them both our love and our honesty.
I am still learning, and she is still teaching me.
I know there will be moments when I miss her so much that I will be unable to move or think. There will be others when the memory of her fills me with life, energy, and laughter. Both will be expressions of how deeply she is loved.
For now, I am embracing the moments when all I can do is simply be. I do not need to force this grief into a lesson, a decision, or forward movement before it is ready. I can allow the world to move around me while I remain still for a while.
I am not yet able to say goodbye to her. So I won’t.
I love you, sister. Travel well, magical one. I will carry you with me until we find one another again.
My heart is with everyone who knew and loved Danyelle.
