Yesterday, and the past few days, have been heavy for the Yerba Buena family.
Back to that in a moment.
Senior proms are a chance for students to get together to celebrate one last time before the school year comes to an end. In some ways, it’s a chance to destress before the final stretch and final exams.
Our prom, which took place last Friday night on the grounds of a local golf course, began as a normal, formal evening, replete with food, friends, smiles, and selfies.
Tragically, about twenty-minutes into the dance portion, one of our most beloved students collapsed on the dance floor. He passed away later that evening.
Davinderjeet Singh, affectionately known as “DJ,” turned 18 less than a month ago, and he was less than a month away from graduating with his peers.
Yesterday, our school held a memorial service on campus to honor him. His closest friends spoke about the type of person he was: gentle, caring, empathetic. I’ll add that he was also knowledgeable, funny, gracious, optimistic, and kind. One of his friends said “DJ made me want to be nicer to people.” Another said that he was kind to a fault, often putting aside his own challenges in order to comfort and care for others.
He was a gentle giant, who seized every moment to be kind. A gesture that epitomized DJ’s kindness was when he — despite objections from a friend — offered to share his umbrella so as to shield his buddy from the rain, even accompanying him all the way to his car. DJ simply would not take no for an answer. I think this is the type of kindness most of us wish of ourselves.
One of our school counselors said “DJ was doing what he loved in his last moments.” The photos and videos shared by one of his best friends who attended the prom with him are indicative of that.
DJ would have made the world a better place. He was excited about the future, including attending San Jose State University in the fall. He was also proud of his culture, often sharing anecdotes about his recent trip to India with me.
A few weeks ago I gave students ten prompts to choose from for their daily journals. DJ chose this one: “Do you look forward to old age?” He said he looked forward to becoming independent, trying new things, and children. Among the things he did not look forward to: paying taxes.
When students enter my room, most are preoccupied with music, phones, and banter. While a handful of students do greet me, most are enjoying their own distractions, which is completely normal. DJ, however, always said “Good morning,” and never left without saying “Have a great day, Mr. Chacon.”
Before DJ walked out of my room last Friday, I overheard him talking to another student about his cap and gown. (DJ is Sikh, and wore an under-turban called a patka to school.) When I asked what he planned to do, he said he was only going to wear the gown. And then — with his signature smile — he said “Have a great weekend, Mr. Chacon.” It was the last time I saw him.
Losing a person so young is a reminder that we are all a small part of a grand design, which in moments like this, feels unfair.
YB is not the same without him. My third period class is not the same without him. Graduation will not be the same without him.
To honor him in my room, we will leave his desk empty for the remainder of the year.
On a campus full of Warriors, DJ was a giant. His departure is immense — for all of us.
May he rest in eternal peace.
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