Ealain

I think it’s funny. As you get older, your memory changes and you forget things. My dad gets many email forwards from friends and whenever he gets one he likes, he reads it to us. A few months ago he read us one of them. Tonight, in the circle that is email forwarding, he got it again. He read it again. My stepmom and her mom listened again. They responded with the normal responses again. My dad, my stepmom, and my stepmom’s mom all did not remember ever hearing it before. Is that what we have to look forward to?

That seems to be the key number: sixteen. Sixteen years before I was born, my mom’s twin brother died, sixteen days before his 18th birthday. Yesterday I was able to go see his grave for the first time. Donald A. Stone. However, when I walked up from behind (as it was the first time, I had to walk around and search for it), for one split-second, I saw Donna written in place of Donald with the two Ns rather than one. I was sixteen when she died.

My mom was never buried. My Gramma spread her ashes in North Carolina, in the mountains, where my mom always seemed the happiest. But I know my mom, if anywhere in this human world, is not in North Carolina. She is just mere miles away from where she grew up, in a teeny cemetary mostly now populated by Spanish tombstones. Nunca te olvidaremos. Siempre te recordaremos. She is with her brother, as she wanted to be for the approximate thirty-two (sixteen + sixteen) years between their deaths. I did not know her before he died but I’m told she was never the same. She held grief in and did not let it go.

I am the opposite. I have lost three people dear to me and each time I have naturally accepted the fact that they are gone. I love them, I miss them, I grieve for them. But I don’t constantly suffer as she did. It’s a bargain, a decision. Because she held on, she had more tangible memories. I have found my memories fading in return for being able to live my life. It has been three years, eleven months, and three days since my mom died. In less than a month it will be four years. About a month ago, it hit me in the face that I find it hard sometimes to picture her, to hear her voice, to feel her. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better to be able to constantly feel her presence. Every once in a while I can, but in return I grieve heavily each time. Like yesterday, like now.

I felt her at his grave. I knew that they were both there. She doesn’t have a physical resting place but that grave is shared by them.

I cannot put how I feel right now into words. I lack that.

In loving memory of Donald Allen Stone. July 25, 1953 - July 9, 1971.
In loving memory of Donna Ellen Stone. July 25, 1953 - November 11, 2003.

There were also two graves that caught my attention while there. One because it was immediately next to Don’s. There were no flowers in his cup-thing above the tombstone so I put some that I brought in his. Antonio Bustamante, “Nico,” Dic 3, 1920 - Nov 26, 2003, usted no es olvidado. As well as one a few rows back whose flower-cup-thing above his tombstone had been completely knocked over and had moss, spider’s webs, complete with spider himself who was not too happy that I rid it of its home. I fit the cup back into place, cleaned it up, and put flowers there as well. Ivory J Reid, 1913-1982, you are not forgotten.

I’m typing from my phone so excuse any bad typing.

Josh’s mom went to the hospital because she thought she had had a heart attack. They are doing tests and she is home atm but she might have to go back depending on the results. She might have a blocked artery and if she does they will have to unblock it. He said that his grampa (Poppy) had the same thing at one point and tha he said it was routine and she would be fine. But of course Josh is focussed on the small percent of ppl that it hasnt gone well with. He is also worried because Poppy had to get a pacemaker but I reminded him that with a pacemaker she is still alive and Poppy is fine.

Please keep Josh and his mom in your thoughts and prayers/the equivalent in your religion.

If youve gone through something similar, please comment. When things like this happen and Im not familiar with the details I tend to try to arm myself with facts and previous cases. Also if you want to leave any comments towards Josh or his mom, Ill make sure that they get them.

EDIT // She did have a clogged artery and she had surgery to un-block it. He says she’s doing good. He’s talked to her a few times since then. If anything new happens, I’ll keep you updated.//

EDIT 2 // She’s still in the hospital because they think there might be more wrong. They might have to do surgery again and if that doesn’t work, open heart surgery. Let’s hope it all goes well.//

EDIT 3 // They are pretty sure she has an enlarged aorta. If she does they are going to have to do open heart surgery. Hes very worried bc somebody told him that it has a high death rate. I dont want him to have to go through what I did. I changed the date on this from the 17th to 19th so that it is on top now. //

EDIT 4 // She’s at home and ok. She’s going to have to take medicine and stuffage but no surgery. Thanks everyone (especially Aelyn for putting up with all my questions). *hugs* //

When I was in the process of drawing Best Friends Too I was, at one point, visiting Josh at the store he manages. There were no customers at that moment so I was sitting across from him at his sales table. As I was drawing, a UPS (United Parcel Service) guy came in with a package for them. He saw my drawing and complemented me. Since it was in my drawing book, I showed him my others as well. This unknown guy even went to the store right next door and brought back one of the workers to see.

The UPS Guy asked me why I didn’t do it for a living. I told him that it was because noone ever hired me. He said he had to go but that he’d look for something for me to draw for him and send it to me per Josh.

A few weeks later Josh told me he died.

I have no idea what his name was but, though he probably just though it being nice, it really impacted me. I know I draw well but I don’t get much attention for it and (besides my $5 school drawing year; whole other story) I’ve never been hired for it at all. The extent of my “career” is gift drawings and a few unrewarded art shows. That someone cared enough to pay attention, let alone that he was going to get me to draw something for him, meant a lot.

I’m ashamed to say that when I first found out he died, I didn’t feel much. I’ve gone through death a lot myself so I’ve become kind of numb about it. But over the past few months since then, this unknown UPS Guy has resurfaced in my thoughts a lot.

So, I’m dedicating Best Friends Too to him. To someone who took the time out of his life to care about somebody else.