My family and I are beyond heartbroken to let you know of the untimely passing of my dear only sibling and younger brother at the age of 54. The call I received last night was one I have been dreading for nearly 35 years. Those of you who know and/or love Dave know that he chose to live life on his own unique terms. He was wildly creative, a taker of risks against insane odds, a person who loved headlong and fiercely, an intense and sensitive writer and singer/guitarist/pianist, and so much more. Sometimes he really thought he had all the answers, and at other times he was humble and self-deprecating. He had a fabulous sense of humor, a certain type of musical genius, and a kind of brilliance at connecting with others in particular circumstances.
There are things that truly only the two of us understood, and now I will never have anyone who totally “gets” what he got. He loved more people than I will ever know he did, and alienated more people than I will ever know he did. All of the astonishing choices he made did not affect a partner, children, pets, or even plants, because he had none of those…and his loneliness was crushing. His rockin’ blues audiences adored him and his singing and guitar- and piano-playing. He was absolutely fantastic with old people, with children, with animals, and with complete strangers. He gave too much, shared too much, took too much…and kept hoping for some big break. He was optimistic but not strategic enough…and usually thought he could beat impossible odds. This time, his body/health—which had taken decades of abuse of many kinds—got the better of him. In and out of the hospital for the past 2+ weeks, a collection of life-threatening conditions was too much for him to fight off. He left the last hospital AMA, and died inside, but by himself.
It almost killed me this morning (thank goodness for precious Greg, who went with me) to kneel in front of my mother in her residential care facility and tell her that he is gone, at peace, and with our dad; she is gutted but hanging in. My kids are stunned and tragic. I am wrecked beyond all expression. He was supposed to be here. We were supposed to get old together.
Every family photo—always—my dad used to say, “Put your arm around your brother.” I did, his whole life, in every way I knew how (heartfelt thanks to EVERYONE who supported ME over the years while I did all those things!!). Even though he would leave me and come back (because of his issues), I never left him. I love him with all my heart. He told me I was his best friend.
To ALL of you—and I know there are a BUNCH of you!—who helped him keep going, who sent support, sent money, gave him a place to stay, helped him get to the next day or the next town or the next safety, read his writing, played in bands with him, gave him the love for which he so desperately longed, and more: my family and I cannot thank you enough. I will fly down to Los Angeles at some point and get his few belongings and his ashes; our mother’s wish is to have them scattered with hers and my dad‘s at some point.
Currently, there are no plans for a service. I might try to figure out a charitable organization to which donations could be made in his name. I’m probably going to post more things about him.
Please just love one another and stay safe and well. And if you think of it, do a kindness for someone in need, in the name of David Michael Shafran, DOB May 18, 1967, DOD August 30, 2021–my beloved, only brother.     

~Helen Shafran