Darrell Dunafon And His Shocking Thrill-Seeking

Pat,

This is another one of Darrell’s relatives. First of all, I am not religious, nor am I going to try to scare you with the karma you’ve created as the kind of person you are to post such hurtful things about someone you never met. However, I’d like to share with you what’s hurtful to me about this.

First of all, when you search my beloved cousin’s death, this is the first site that comes up. It saddens me to think that someone may read this and possibly think that he was the person you have made him out to be.

Second of all, it has always been very easy for me to hear stories like this and judge the person involved, given that I never had known someone to fall to their death so unexpectedly until Buddy (that was his nickname). Having that said, my perspective has changed, and the truth is if you weren’t there, and did not know the circumstances, of course it’s easy to judge. Let me let you in on what actually happened that night, as it was shared with me by one of Buddy’s jumpers that night at his memorial.

Buddy had taken over 1,000 jumps in his lifetime. He was an expert. He had also done far more dangerous jumps than this one. Before every jump, he and his jumping friends would always sit down and weigh out every possible option that could have gone wrong. Allbeit, what happened to Buddy was one of them. One small miscalculation led to Buddy jumping incorrectly by merely a couple of feet, and evidently led to his death. Forget that it was illegal (I’m sure you’ve never done anything foolish), forget that B.A.S.E. jumping is a risky sport–it was what he loved to do, and he would not have wanted to leave this earth any other way.

Buddy came from a long line of dare devils in our family. Our grandfather, also Darrell Dunafon, was a test pilot for the Navy (incidentally, they both died on the same day of the year–December 4th). Little Buddy was a vet from Baghdad, one of the ones who sat on the hood of the army car, without any armor, to protect his troupe. He had his hand shot off in Baghdad, was able to have it reattached, and then found his love for B.A.S.E. jumping after returning home and healing. Seeing as he had just come from war, knowing that should give you an idea of how-not-big-of-a-deal B.A.S.E. jumping would be. Of course, to people like you and me, we’re like… Of COURSE it’s dangerous! Why would anyone DO that?! But–Buddy came from the war. Far more frightening, life-threatening and risky, in my opinion.

Some of us seek thrills, and some of us don’t. I am one that doesn’t. I’m a pianist and singer, and I don’t like heights or taking risks to that degree. Having that said, this is what Buddy loved to do. He would never hurt someone, or say something offensive to anyone–unless they deserved it. He was the only wonderful son to my amazing uncle (also named Darrell), a tremendous brother, uncle, cousin, and friend. You can look to your best friend to see an example of the kind of person Buddy was.

Not in any way does his memory deserve the words that you have posted in this blog, for absolutely no reason (unless this affected you personally in some way that I’m unaware of). Buddy may not be here, but he lived a beautiful, happy life that was just cut too short by accident. I am proud to have been his cousin, to have sang at his funeral, and only wish I had the balls that he had. He truly lived life to the fullest.

As for you, I deeply feel sorry for you in that, even after his family has implored you to reconsider your hurtful words, you should choose to keep this blog alive. Until you take a humane action and remove this blog, I will consider Buddy to be alive in memory every day, while you are the one who is dead.

I will continue mourning for you until this disappears from the internet. Or, you can be a decent human being, and we’ll forgive you.

Thank you.
Nomi