The world grew a little quieter on May 19, 2025, when Darin Danielson of Fairview, MT was called home to be with his Lord and Savior. After a life marked by faith, love, and unwavering devotion to the people he held dear, Darin left this world the same way he lived in it—surrounded by love, and with grace, courage, and peace.

Born on July 13, 1963, to Dale and Diane (Delp) Danielson, Darin was the third of four boys raised on the family farm. Life on the land didn’t just teach Darin how to work—it shaped his soul. He grew up in the fields of Fairview, shoulder to shoulder with his dad and brothers—Doug, David, and Duane—learning early on what it meant to show up, to serve, and to love big. His heart was as steady as the MonDak soil he stood on, and from a young age, you could see that Darin was someone special. He made people feel seen, known, and deeply cared for.

In high school, Darin met the one who would change his life forever—MaryAnn Christiansen. Their love story began in the hallways of Fairview High, and it was the kind of love that movies try to capture but rarely get right. They married on November 12, 1983. For over 41 years, MaryAnn and Darin were inseparable. Not just husband and wife, but best friends, teammates, and soulmates. Through every high and every low, they stood by each other’s side—and when life got unimaginably hard in these last months, they leaned in even more. MaryAnn and Darin’s marriage wasn’t the only relationship that started in high school. Darin’s friendship with his best man, Bruce Loudermilk, also stood the test of time & they remained friends until his final days, a rare and lifelong bond that meant the world to them both.

But if you really wanted to see Darin’s eyes light up, you only had to mention one name: Lindsey. On May 3, 1989, Darin became a father, and from that day on, his world revolved around his daughter. She was his pride, his joy, and the brightest light in his life. There was never a doubt that Lindsey was loved beyond measure. Every story, every smile, every moment with her was etched into his heart.

Despite battling the pain of MS, Darin—ever the romantic, ever the fighter—got down on one knee in the Black Hills of South Dakota and asked MaryAnn to marry him all over again. They renewed their vows in November of 2023, in a small ceremony surrounded by close family and friends. That moment wasn’t just beautiful. It was Darin. Fiercely loyal. Deeply loving. Unshakably devoted.

To his nieces and nephews, Darin was proudly the "FUNcle.” As kids, he took them with him in the tractor, took them fishing, cooked their favorite meals, and never missed a chance to make them feel special. He helped make Valentine’s Day boxes, allowed sleepovers, and gave the kind of hugs you remembered long after. As they grew older, he continued to show them tenderness in all the best ways, through time, effort, and love. He loved them like they were his own, and they always knew it.

When Darin started working for Hurley’s Oilfield Services, he gained a second family. Not the kind of family you are born with, but the kind you choose. The love and support they have shown to MaryAnn and Darin has been invaluable.

Darin was a fixer. Whether he was fixing something around your house, lending you tools or wisdom, or fixing your heart, just sitting with you in silence when words wouldn’t do—he was *that* guy. The go-to. The rock. The one who never needed recognition, but who quietly carried burdens that weren’t his just to lighten the load for someone else. He was a jack of all trades because he could fix just about anything... especially hearts.

His faith wasn’t loud, but it was deep. It lived in his actions. In his quiet prayers. In the way he showed up, again and again, even when it hurt. When he was diagnosed with MS in 2018, his body began to change, but his spirit never did. He fought with dignity. He leaned into the people who loved him. And he held fast to his faith, even when the road was long and uncertain.

In his final weeks, Darin shared something that deeply moved his family. He said, “I always knew I loved everyone... but I didn’t realize just how much until I was faced with this.” True to who he was, he continued sharing that love right up to his last breath. A firm believer that “life is too short for negativity,” Darin remained positive, tender, and full of grace—even in the hardest moments.

One of the greatest blessings in those later years was his friendship with Evan Paul. Their bond was rare, sacred even. Darin once told a niece, “You’ve got to meet Evan. He’s an angel on this earth.” And anyone who knew Evan would agree. In Darin’s final moments, it was Evan’s voice offering a blessing that gently ushered him home—while MaryAnn and Lindsey held each of his hands. He was not alone. He was not afraid. He was held. And he was finally free.

Micah 6:8
He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

This verse captures the essence of who Darin was—just, kind, humble, faithful. A man who didn’t need to be loud to be strong, who showed up for others without needing applause, and who walked through life with a quiet, steady grace. To know Darin was to know love, loyalty, humility, and strength. He wasn’t just a good man. He was one of the great ones. And though our hearts ache with the weight of losing him, we are forever grateful to have known him, to have been loved by him, and to carry his legacy forward.

Darin is survived by his wife, MaryAnn (Christiansen) Danielson of Fairview, MT; daughter Lindsey Danielson (Daniel Cline) of Sidney, MT; parents Dale and Diane (Delp) Danielson of Fairview, MT; three brothers Doug (Bev) Danielson of Fairview, MT, David (Karen) Danielson of Windsor, CO, and Duane (Janine) Danielson of Fairview, MT; and numerous nieces and nephews.

He was preceded in death by his grandparents Hubert and Ruby Delp and Axel and Hilda Danielson; father-in-law Marion Christiansen; sister-in-law Donna Umback; several aunts and uncles; and one very special friend, Lydia Paul.