Darrel

It was 1971 and he lit up the room when he walked through the front door. His smile was wide, generous and sincere. His attitude was in sharp contract to my father's stern and negative view of the world. At barely 14, Darrel had made a huge impression on me.

From time to time, when their work schedules coincided, Darrel would come and visit with my dad. They both worked in the same department at the airport and feeling generous, my father suggested that he travel to Spain with us and spend a week in his apartment by the ocean. Darrel thought it was a great idea and I was thrilled. He had become my older brother and friend. He was in his late 20's and could literally make me laugh until my sides hurt.

We had a wonderful time showing him the sights and taking him to several Government run hotels called Paradors. The vast majorities of these are old castles or restored historical buildings that have been outfitted better than most modern hotels, while retaining their structural integrity and preserving their past.

We travelled throughout Granada and visited the Alhambra, a unique Muslim palace built during the 900 year occupation of the Moors in Spain. The most memorable moment was our tour of the Escorial and my translating the tour guide's information into English with Darrel. He laughed so hard in the church that we were glad the tour had gone forward and we were the only ones left in that magnificent room with its arched ceilings that reverberated Darrel's genuine laughter throughout the chamber.

I had discovered that I had a wicked sense of humor and exploited it further when visiting the Royal tombs. Darrel had tears running down his face and his sides hurt. I had succeeded in discovering that I had the power to make a grown man cry and beg me to stop.

Once in Madrid we parted company and he handed me a silver cross with 4 diamonds as a memento, something to say thank you for a wonderful trip.

I was 18 when I heard about Darrel again. He had put a loaded gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger. I suspected why he did it, since I had heard some snippets from his life, but I had never been sadder since that time. To this day, I can still see his smile as he walked through the door and my heart fills with happiness at meeting someone so unique, so alive, and so genuine.

I wore, and still have, Darrel's cross. Every time I see it, I see that wide grin and feel that warmth of genuine friendship and trust. The memory of Darrel has gotten me through some very depressing times and made me smile when I did not feel like it, or had no reason to.

Rest in Peace Darrel, my heart remembers and thanks you.

Learn more about this author, Olivia Emisar.
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