Chris and I first bonded over our mutual love of Casablanca. We said it was the start of a beautiful friendship, and it was.

Every communication I received from Chris over the years was a cherished treasure and a testament to his character. The sheer amount of emotional intelligence, perception, and good will from Chris was like nothing I'd ever seen in a person. There was a sort of vulnerability and confidence in knowing Chris could understand and see you fully, warts and all, and cherish you any way.

He was the highest quality person--in terms of character, intellect, and taste--I've ever known. It was a joy and an honor to be his friend.

He loved his family; and spoke so highly of them always. I grieve and pray for them.

This past May, when I expressed sorrow for a loss of a beloved pastor, Chris messaged me, comforting me with the following sentiment: "In college, when the late great Peter Gomes died, a person wrote into the Crimson with what, in my mind, is the absolute perfect one sentence obituary--one to which we should all aspire. 'The loss of the Church Militant is the gain for the Church Triumphant."

Chris more than lived up to that legacy; and he will be sorely missed.

During this season, I've been seeking ways to give back. One cause that has felt personally meaningful is the "Movember"charity's mental health and suicide prevention initiatives.

I've been fundraising this month, with my office at Slalom consulting, in honor of Chris. Today is the last day to reach our goal of $2300. I wanted to invite others to learn about Movember's impactful message and consider making a donation. You can find our team page here: https://us.movember.com/team/…

Wishing everyone warm wishes this season, as we hold those we love close.

I had never cried, and I promised myself that I would never cry, over a boy but upon learning of the loss of this exceptionally remarkable man (whom I fondly referred to as “Gangsta”), I was rendered essentially inconsolable. It is impossible for me to adequately convey what Christopher Warren Danello meant to me and no amount of tears can express the immeasurable pain that I feel.

A Christian not just in name or title, Chris’ love of and devotion to Christ was readily apparent. God’s love shone through Chris — not just through his words, but through his warmth, kindness and compassion that was hors concours (while the most British person to never live in Britain, Chris was also a self-proclaimed “enormous Francophile” who would appreciate this reference).

I am so thankful that at various times throughout Chris’ final months I told him how truly incredible and amazing he was, the joy that he brought to the world and how it was my profound privilege to have the tremendous honor of being his friend.

Chris will forever remain in my thoughts and prayers and I will miss him dearly until we meet again and I am greeted with his genuine, true and honest smile.

To the Danello family — may the light of God surround you, the love of God enfold you, the power of God protect you and the presence of God watch over you.

With my sincerest and deepest sympathies and condolences,

Loren Shokes, HLS’17

Over the past week, I've learned more about Chris than I did in the three years we worked together, and I'm disappointed with myself about that. His kindness, gentleness, generosity, intellect, and quirkiness have always been apparent, but I don't know if anyone at work realized what he'd been going through.

During Chris' time at work, I organized several outings to Nats and Caps games, and Chris loved those. Appropriately, many of them were purposely scheduled on bobblehead giveaways. He never mentioned being nicknamed "Bobblehead" in high school, and lucky for him I never found out. Chris always thanked me more than anyone else for organizing the outings and including him, and I hadn't realized until this week how much these outings meant to him, how much he needed that type of camaraderie. I wish we had had one scheduled for him to look forward to.

I'll always remember Chris as the kind soul that he is. I grieve along with his family and many friends who love him. Today's service was perfect, and one couldn't ask for a better one. Liza, Mike, Sam, and the Reverends were wonderfully enlightening about a man I'm sad to say we didn't know well enough. We will all miss him.

We send our deepest condolences and so much love to the Danello family.  

Kelly, Kevin, Mike, Molly and Memuna McShane

We are sending you our love and support.  

Love, Christina, John, Matthew, and Joseph Kyong

Our hearts are broken as we think about Chris and your family. Please know we are sending our love and support in any way possible. 

Hager/Howard Family

I am devastated to hear this news. I'll never forget the first conversation I had with Chris—it was orientation week of law school at a bar in Cambridge, and Chris somehow asked a dozen thoughtful questions, was an incredible listener, showing genuine interest in my answers, and cracked jokes that had me in stitches, all while rattling off an array of perfectly on-point classical, Biblical, political, and pop culture references. I remember thinking, wow, Harvard Law is more amazing than I even imagined—it turned out, I had just met one of the most special people I would have the privilege of befriending.

Over the next three years, I got to see Chris nearly every day.  In 1L year, we shared every class together, and in 2L and 3L years we holed up together at Gannett House, debating law review submissions on the Articles Committee he helped lead. Every single time I saw Chris, he would brighten my day. I was often (internally) a stress case in law school, but Chris was always wearing a broad smile and ready to make you laugh with rapid fire one-liners, always had unlimited time to spend in friendly conversation, and was quick to compliment you on the things you most needed or wanted to hear. I wish I could go back to Gannett and see him again in his element, smiling, quick witted, a gentle, thoughtful, and often silly presence, surrounded by a community that delighted in him.

Ever since then, Chris remained a remarkably constant, loving presence in my life, and the life of my wife, Julia (whom Chris had welcomed with open arms into the law school community back at Harvard). Without fail, at every major life event that I experienced—from marrying Julia, to having kids, to losing grandparents—an email would arrive in my inbox from Chris conveying some of the most touching and profound sentiments that I ever received in my life. I cherish those emails, have shared them with my family, and re-read them many times. But it wasn’t just the big events—Chris sent a steady stream of affirmations over Facebook messenger to Julia and me whenever we would post about our kids (which is all the time). He did just the other week. They would always brighten Julia and my days, and kept us in touch over the years in ways I have failed to achieve with almost anyone else.

Chris’s intelligence was obvious. But that was just one small dimension of what made Chris so special. I’m going to miss the way he invested in friendships, the way his face lit up when talking about his family he so adored and was so proud of, the way he poured out praise for others, listened deeply and remembered the little things about you, and was always making everyone laugh. And even all those attributes together don’t fully capture Chris’s essence, as anyone who has met him knows, because he was so one of a kind. Chris literally shone with the love of Christ. It breaks my heart I can’t give him a big hug and tell him these things in person. Chris leaves an unfillable void in this world, and memories that are so painful because of how sweet they are. I pray for Chris’s family, and will think of Chris until we meet again.