Dear Skip

When I got engaged to my husband, Tyler, I learned about his family’s Steinway piano business. How perfect was this?!

I told my grandmother about the connection, and she told me that my grandfather, who passed away before I was born, loved visiting Daynes Music. I felt so touched and connected to my grandfather at that moment. Somehow, through Tyler, I had become connected to a place that had meant something to my grandfather, too.

A couple of months later, I visited Daynes Music for a piano competition. One of my piano professors at Utah Valley University introduced me to Skip Daynes.

From the moment I met him, I knew I loved him.

Skip was a legend in the piano world. He had helped pave the way for Steinway dealers, and everywhere I went, people seemed to know him. He was a connection point for pianists, teachers, and piano lovers everywhere. But to me, he became something much more personal.

I spent many afternoons with him and would occasionally pop into the store just to check in on him. Every time, I left feeling so loved and important. Skip had a capacity to love people that was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

I asked him one day if I could have a photoshoot at his store. I needed new pictures for my website, and my graduation date was coming up. Of course, he said yes, and we planned a date.

When I came into the store that day, Skip was there. He wasn’t even planning to come in, but the receptionist had told him that a Daynes family member would be there taking pictures. So he came anyway, just to see me.

I always called Skip my honorary grandfather. I knew that I would eventually leave Utah, and I wanted a picture with him that I could keep with me wherever I moved.

My photographer, Justin Hackworth, captured a picture that I will cherish for the rest of my life. Skip was embarrassed that he wasn’t dressed in a suit and tie, but I was so happy to have a picture of him just as he was—still working, still moving pianos, still doing what he loved.

I visited Daynes Music one last time before I moved to Las Vegas for graduate school. I had a strange feeling that it might be the last time I saw him.

I showed him a picture of Juniper, my new golden retriever. For those who don’t know, Skip had many therapy dogs who visited hospitals and interacted with patients. He even wrote a book about his dog, Colonel, who was also a golden retriever.

A month after I moved to Las Vegas, I received the news that Skip had passed away. I was absolutely heartbroken. I loved him so much, and I desperately wished I could see him again.

The weekend of his funeral, I was rushed to the hospital in St. George, Utah, and had to undergo emergency surgery. The condition I had was life-threatening, and I am incredibly grateful that I survived.

I will never forget that night in the hospital.

After my family members had all gone home, I was lying there reflecting on how lucky I was to still be alive. Then I felt somebody sit down beside me and place a hand on my leg, as if to comfort me.

I knew it was Skip.

He was with me that night in the hospital.

I wish I could go back and talk to him one last time. I wish I could tell him how much he meant to me and how grateful I am that I got to know him.

Skip taught me something about the way we can love other people. He had a way of making everyone around him feel important, and I was lucky enough to experience that love firsthand. Even though I only knew him for a few years, he became my honorary grandfather, and I will always be grateful for that.

I still wish I could walk into Daynes Music and find him there. I wish I could sit with him for one more afternoon, tell him what I’ve been up to, and show him another picture of Juniper.

But I have these pictures.

They remind me of a man who loved people deeply, who made me feel like I mattered, and who became family to me.

I love you, Skip. I miss you, and I will carry you with me always.

Skip Daynes

1938-2024