Dan married Cynthia L. (Dayton) Truitt, the mother of his children, at a young age in 1974 but later divorced in 2001. He then met and enjoyed a relationship with Diane Chapman where he enjoyed a significant extended relationship with her grandchildren as well. They parted and he relocated to the Seattle area, but remained close friends. Dan worked for many years as a mason, and was last employed by Peninsula Masonry, Inc. located in Harbeson, DE. Many will remember him as a man of dedication to the rooms where he found strong friendships and the fortitude to continue his commitment to sobriety celebrating almost 17 years clean and sober. Dan loved children and cherished his grandchildren. He was fortunate to spend the last 7 years a significant part of their lives living with them in the Seattle area. He was a building contractor, cabinet maker, and brick/stone mason at a young adult age and built his own family home in Ellendale. In his later years in Seattle, he enjoyed building and fixing things, gardening, helping out at home and helping his friends, and especially enjoyed spending time with his grandchildren. He was a devoted father, grandfather, brother, uncle, and friend, and he will be sorely missed by his family and many friends both in the Seattle area and at home in Delaware.
He is survived by his son, Nicholas R. Truitt with whom he lived in the Seattle area along with his daughter-in-law Kathy, and two grand-daughters Keona and Ryan and is also survived by his son, Joshua A. Truitt. He is predeceased by a daughter, Stacy L. Truitt who died shortly after birth. He is also survived by his siblings, Lisa (Truitt) McAllister of Milton, DE and Rowland E. Truitt, and predeceased by his brothers, Joseph M. Truitt, Jr., Larry L. Truitt, and Kelly Dale Truitt.
All services will be private. A tribute can be viewed online and condolences sent at: www.thestoriesbetween.com.
See below to see a tribute to Dan from Lisa. If you would like to post condolences, a memory, and/or a picture, please select Add a Memory (memory or condolences) or Upload a Photo below.
Before Dan left for Seattle we spent many months planning our lives apart and what he would do to get good health care. We did not count on what took place. We went shopping for a new pet for me-a puppy. Than came the name game so little Danny was in my life. Dan said "I bet you love telling me what to do all day. Dan was the most wonderful man I ever knew. Our life together & apart were the best years of my life & I am at a loss right know.He gave me such love plus shared his Mother who became my best friend & the rest of his family wit me.I truly was a Blessed women for knowing such a wonderful family & man. God truly Blessed me the day Danny Truitt walked into my life. We all lost a wonderful person. We traveled all over together the first years as I did a lot of service work, he sat back and listened. Then he shared all he learned and used it all in the last few years to help me thru some hard time while I and he were apart. His words of wisdom will help me I hope. I love You Danny Truitt. Enjoy Your Peace Now!!
PrintA Tribute to Daniel B. from His Sister:
I read something recently where someone terminally ill wrote their own obituary stating they, “. . . didn’t appreciate the norm where minor accomplishments from cradle to grave get listed or they depict one poetic last stanza about someone’s life.” Instead they spoke in the first person and stated they, “. . . simply tried to do the best they could. Sometimes succeeded, more often than not, failed, but they tried.” Wow, I could hear these words clear as day coming from my brother, Dan. I went through a lot, especially medically, with him, and could always count on his best effort. That’s not to say the effort was always everything we expected or wanted, but it was his best. And it was good enough to repeatedly defy the odds and survive with better quality of life in the face of dire prognosis; it was more than once we heard the words “. . . most would not have survived.”
Further in the obituary, I read, “I didn’t always do the right thing or say the right thing, and when you come to the end of your life, those are the things you regret, the [sometimes even] small simple things that hurt other people.” More words that could be clearly imagined coming from my brother. Those of you who knew him, know this was a significant part of his life and values that were learned, practiced, and eventually strongly believed through his walk through the 12-step program. He devoted himself to making amends for his choices, particularly, as a young adult, and especially to his mother for the impact it had on her life. We talked a lot about this, and I learned a lot about my brother through these discussions. Growing up as the only girl among 4 older brothers, they wanted little to do with entertaining a little sister. I annoyingly pushed their buttons insisting on attention, and paid the price at times, like the time when they finally gave in to my whining and begging to ride the boys’ mini-bike and ended up crashing into the neighbor’s patio (thank goodness for the rose bushes that came before the brick wall; almost gave Mrs. Morgan a heart attack)! Little did they know, their interests would rub off on me, hence my interest in cool cars (and keeping them clean, they wouldn’t let me do much, but I got to scrub the tires). Or my obsession with motorcycles. Dan joined Steve and I on our most recent trip to Myrtle Beach and we had a ball together. He told me, the first time I saw you jump on the bike and head out, I couldn’t stop smiling.” That was after he shined it up for me (pic attached), that’s what big brothers are for, right? And a bit of role reversal, lol.
Another attribute I hope to continue to emulate in my life, is his positive thinking, optimism, and selflessness. Granted, I will be the first to tell you he wasn’t always this way. This is something that definitely resulted from making significant changes in his life, learning to make different choices, with a desire to be a better person. This is a man who never gave up hope. And although remarkably grounded in reality, he always thought bigger than himself. Even at the end, the docs had to convince him to discontinue investigative treatment when the risk was too high for his well being. Part of that was hope that something might make a difference for himself, of course, but an equal part of it was the hope that if not for him, possibly his participation would make a difference for someone else. And his participation in many clinical trials was about this as well. And he did this relentlessly all the way to the end. Not ironically, one of the disappointments he faced in the end was learning that he wasn’t eligible to contribute his body to research, for the same reason. He was selfless that way.
As much as when we were kids, also as we became adults, I learned a lot from my big brothers, and it has molded me into who I am today. Dan loved kids, and was compassionate about children who grow up in not-the-best circumstances. Through his relationship with Diane, his once love, and forever friend, he was gifted an opportunity and strived to make a difference in such lives. Today, he has the respect and admiration of children who have grown into adulthood a better person having known him. One even named her first child after him. I embrace and foster this value in my life as well.
He faced his last prognosis, stage 4 terminal liver cancer, non-operable, non-treatable, with humility and respect and appreciation for the medical network of care he was fortunate to have in the Seattle area. As fortunate as those of us are here on the East Coast, I had never experienced the level of care he received there on the West Coast. The University of Washington Medical Center and surrounding network is incredible. One of the gifts I constantly remind Nick that he gave to his father when he invited him to come live with them there, where his wife grew up. As he repeatedly recovered from dodging bullets, there were very few follow up conversations I had with him where I couldn’t end the call with “that’s a good report,” and he always expressed what he was thankful for and how lucky he was. It always made me smile, and encouraged me to share in the ongoing hope he always had.
The personally written obituary went on to say “Some folks told me that writing my own obituary was morbid, but I think it is great because I get a chance to say thank you to all the people who helped me along the way. Those who loved me, assisted me, cared for me, laughed with me, and taught me things so that I could have a wonderful, happy life. I was blessed beyond measure by knowing all of you. That is what made my life worthwhile.” It was as if he, himself, wrote this. He was so appreciative of everyone in his life and what they brought to it. To his son, Nick, and his family, who opened their doors to him when his health required to not live alone. He stated more than once, “I never thought I would ever find myself in such circumstances, unable to work and provide at an early age, dependent on my family.” But his son as a young adult and his wife stepped up to provide care and support, values Nick himself learned as a young boy as their family experienced multiple waves of tragedy. Unfortunately, in the last few years of his life, Dan was more dependent on others, and was always humbled by all those who stepped up to the plate. My closest friend and mentor as an adult, Olenka, preached from her own deathbed, “when you really need someone, it’s not those who sit and pat you on the back and tell you they wish the best for you, it’s those that without having to be asked, roll up their sleeves and jump into the trenches to do what needs to be done,” and Dan had this type of support in his strong relationships with those he surrounded himself with, family and otherwise. And it is these relationships he was most grateful for in life. And I believe it is because of these relationships that he was who he was. Thank you each and every one of you for your contribution to his life . . .
Lastly, the personally-written obituary offered ways to honor their memory. I’m adding my suggestions to honor Dan’s. Please consider to:
• Do the best you can.
• Be grateful for what you have and for who is in your life.
• Make decisions for reasons bigger than yourself, be selfless.
• Think before you speak; consider whether your opinion is helpful/hurtful.
• Value and respect relationships; participate and cultivate them (give as much or more than you get).
• If given an opportunity, teach children they do not have to be a product of their upbringing. Teach and provide tools to be better.
• If you have a drinking/drug problem, make a commitment to stop; reach out to the rooms for support.
• Be proud of your accomplishments, never give up hope, and believe in a higher power.
If you would like to add your own, share a story and/or post pictures, please do. It is a tribute, after all.
With Nick’s permission, I share with you a recent email exchange, Nick wrote:
“The last time I woke him he got startled and asked me where Dale was. I carried the conversation because it didn't seem to upset him emotionally. He told me that Dale was just yelling at him to hurry and get ready because dad was going to be mad if they were late. Wasn't much more to it, just some mumbled words and he took his pills. After I got him situated in his bed and he thanked me and said "it's almost over, I'll be back up and running in just a couple more days."
Rest in peace Daniel B. (always called him that), I love you. Will forever miss your response, “love you too, kiddo.”
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