Emily Gold, 17, was a bright and talented young woman who won the hearts of audiences with her Los Osos High School dance team on America’s Got Talent.
Her grace, passion, and energy lit up the stage – but now, we are heartbroken to share the tragic news of her passing.
Emily Gold, a 17-year-old dancer from Los Osos High School and America’s Got Talent contestant, has tragically passed away. On Friday, September 13, Emily was found dead, as confirmed by the San Bernardino Coroner’s Office.
The Southern California teen, who recently competed on AGT with her dance team, died by suicide. California Highway Patrol Public Information Officer Rodrigo Jimenez said officers responded to the scene around 11:52 p.m.
“When officers arrived, they found a 17-year-old female who had been hit by a vehicle in the carpool lane on the eastbound 210 freeway,” Jimenez explained. “She was pronounced dead at the scene.”
Reports suggest that Emily may have jumped from an overpass and landed in the carpool lane in Rancho Cucamonga, California. Although her death is being treated as a suicide, no suicide note was found.
Earlier this year, Emily had captured millions of viewers’ attention with her high school dance team on America’s Got Talent, where the team made it to the quarterfinals.
Judge Simon Cowell was especially impressed by the performance of Emily Gold and her team on *America’s Got Talent*, praising the energy they brought to the stage.
“It was absolutely brilliant,” Cowell said during the show.
“What I loved was the energy. What I just saw is everything a great school should be doing – encouraging talent and friendship.”
He added, “It reminded me of watching *High School Musical* and thinking every kid should go to a school like that.”
After the performance, Emily spoke with *People* about the care and focus she put into each show.
“When I’m performing, I’m really thinking about all the corrections we get, even up to five minutes before going on stage. Applying those corrections is my biggest priority,” she said.
Following the tragic passing of Emily Gold, the Los Osos High School community is in shock. A fundraiser has been set up to support her family during this difficult time.
“With great sadness, we share that our Los Osos Grizzly, Emily Gold, has passed away,” the fundraiser statement said.
“As a community, let’s come together to support the Gold family. This money will go directly to them to help with expenses.”
Emily’s dance team also paid tribute to her on Instagram:
“It is with a heavy heart that we announce the passing of our beautiful, kind, and loving Emily Gold, Senior and Varsity Dance Captain. Emily embodied all of our team values with her strength, commitment, kindness, and compassion. She will be remembered as a leader, role model, friend, and sister to her teammates.”
The Therapy Dog Jumped on His Bed — and Then He Finally Found His Voice
But what he said next… none of us were prepared for.
“Marigold…” The word slipped out like a forgotten melody, fragile but clear.
“Marigold?” I repeated softly, unsure if I’d heard correctly.Mr. Callahan turned his head slightly toward me, his cloudy blue eyes flickering with something that resembled recognition. “She used to bring me flowers every Sunday. Marigolds. Said they matched my hair when I was young.” A faint smile played on his lips as he scratched behind Riley’s ears absentmindedly. “She always brought them, even after…” His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, heavy with unspoken memories.
The nurse beside me shifted uncomfortably. She leaned in closer to whisper, “He hasn’t mentioned anyone by name in months. Not since…” Her voice faltered, and she didn’t finish her thought either.
Riley tilted his head, sensing the change in energy, and let out a soft whine. It seemed to snap Mr. Callahan back to the present. He patted Riley’s side lightly before looking at me again. “You remind me of her,” he said suddenly, surprising both of us. “The way you look at your dog. She had a way with animals too.”
My throat tightened. I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I just smiled warmly and asked, “Who was she?”
For the first time since we entered the room, Mr. Callahan sat up a little straighter. His gaze softened as though he were peering through decades of memory. “Her name was Eleanor. We grew up together in a small town nobody’s ever heard of. She was the only person who believed I could do anything worthwhile with my life.” He paused, his fingers brushing against Riley’s fur absently. “We got married right out of high school. Everyone thought we were crazy—young kids tying themselves down—but it worked. For fifty years, it worked.”
His words hung in the air, thick with nostalgia and longing. But there was also an undercurrent of pain, a shadow lurking beneath the surface of his story. Something about his tone told me this wasn’t going to end happily.
“What happened?” I asked quietly, bracing myself for whatever came next.
His face darkened, and for a moment, I wondered if he’d retreat back into silence. Instead, he sighed deeply, the weight of years pressing down on him. “Eleanor passed away two years ago. Cancer. They said it was quick, but it didn’t feel that way to me. Watching someone you love waste away… it takes longer than you think.” He swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly. “After she was gone, everything felt empty. I stopped talking. Stopped eating. Stopped caring. Even the marigolds in our garden died because I couldn’t bring myself to water them anymore.”A lump formed in my throat. I glanced at the nurse, whose eyes were glistening with tears. This was more than just a patient reconnecting with the world—it was a man rediscovering pieces of himself he’d buried along with his wife.
Riley must have sensed the shift too because he nudged Mr. Callahan’s arm, drawing his attention back to the present. The old man chuckled weakly, scratching Riley’s neck. “You’re persistent, aren’t you? Just like Eleanor used to be.”
That’s when it hit me—the twist no one saw coming. Maybe it wasn’t just coincidence that Riley had sparked this breakthrough. Dogs have a way of connecting people to their deepest emotions, bridging gaps we don’t even realize exist. And maybe, just maybe, Riley wasn’t here by chance.
As if reading my thoughts, Mr. Callahan added, “You know, Eleanor always wanted a dog, but we never had space for one. She would’ve loved him.” He gestured toward Riley, who wagged his tail enthusiastically. “Maybe she sent him to find me.”The room fell silent except for the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. It wasn’t a religious statement or a supernatural claim—it was simply a man finding comfort in the idea that love transcends even death. That somehow, somewhere, Eleanor was still looking out for him.
Before I could respond, Mr. Callahan surprised me once more. “Can you take me outside? I haven’t been out in weeks.” His voice carried a mix of determination and vulnerability, like a child asking permission for something they desperately needed.
I exchanged a glance with the nurse, who nodded approvingly. “Of course,” I said, helping him sit up fully. With Riley leading the way, we slowly made our way to the hospital courtyard. The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Mr. Callahan took it all in, his eyes wide with wonder, as though seeing the world anew.
When we reached a bench surrounded by flower beds, he stopped and pointed to a cluster of bright yellow blooms. “Marigolds,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “They planted marigolds here.”Without another word, he sat down, leaning forward to touch the petals. Tears streamed down his face, but they weren’t tears of sadness—they were tears of gratitude, of remembrance, of love renewed.
Later that evening, as I tucked Riley into his bed at home, I reflected on what had happened. It wasn’t just about Mr. Callahan speaking again; it was about connection. About how even in our darkest moments, there’s always a thread pulling us back toward light—if we’re willing to follow it.
Life is full of losses, big and small. Sometimes, we lose people, dreams, or parts of ourselves. But healing doesn’t mean forgetting—it means finding new ways to carry those we’ve lost with us. Whether it’s through a memory, a flower, or a furry companion, love has a way of finding us when we need it most.
If this story touched your heart, please share it with others. Let’s spread a little hope and remind each other that even in silence, there’s always a chance to speak again.
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