09 September 2009

Virtual Memorial Andrew J. Wasson 1988-2008

As I was almost finished with my trip to Benicia's City Cemetery the other day I started looking at the other side where they had some newer graves. Usually I don't look at the newer sections because I can still feel the emotions that remain there from families that frequent those sections grieving over their loved ones. Being a sports fan myself I noticed a grave that had nothing more than a plastic marker signifying the burial of a young man by the name of Andrew J. Wasson. He died at only 20 years of age. Clearly somebody had been visiting because on top of the grave were several San Jose Sharks flags and a San Francisco 49er flag as well which happens to be my favorite football team. I thought to myself why the family wouldn't have a headstone made and pretty much came to the conclusion that they were either still saving for one or possibly they never planned to have one placed due to financial issues.So I decided that if Andrew deserved something. Of course I couldn't buy him a headstone myself so I decided that I'd pay him tribute here on my blog. I don't know how he died so young but the decorations his loved ones left behind said something about this kid. There were the flags of sports teams, skulls, a wizard and a conch wrapped in some sort of nylon possibly for protection from the elements. I was able to deduce that Andrew was a unique kid just by the things his family wanted to be with him as he lay at rest. I may be doing more of these and so what if nobody reads it. It's for Andrew this time and possibly any of his family members that may type his name into Google one day.

*After a little more research and $3 I was able to locate an obituary...

March 15, 1988 - April 26, 2008

Andrew J. Wasson, 20, passed away Saturday at Kaiser Hospital in Vallejo.

A celebration of life will be held 3 p.m. Friday at the Clubhouse of Sterling Heights, 150 Rankin Way, Benicia.

Memorial contributions are preferred to Bank of America, Benicia Branch, account No. 0105017151.

Arrangements are under the direction and care of Twin Chapels Mortuary, Vallejo (707) 552-6696.

This was found in the Times Herald


  1. It is so sad when you see a life stopped short. What a beautiful tribute you have to this young man,

  2. Andrew was my friend and I recently went to see his grave. Thank you so much for posting info on him on your blog, I found this blog completely by chance. Your items you left at this grave are still there, thank you so much, he would have loved those items. I am a poet and wrote a poem on my recent experience in visiting his grave, I mention the items you left there. I hope you don't mind me posting it here, but I just thought you would enjoy seeing the great benefits your blog is brining to us, the living. Peace be with you and thanks again.

    "Cold Cemetery of Friendship"
    Trees swaying in the cold
    November breeze, as I
    ascended up the hill
    a brown path, a dull
    line drawn across the
    two sides of grassy green
    Moses parting the sea
    I walking, splitting the
    cool air, the grass, the
    atoms and particles
    dancing around my head
    passing the silent guardians
    eyeing me with hungry, unforgiving
    eyes. passing the Trio unsure
    of their intent, perhaps
    they are here for the
    same reason as I, hard
    to tell. Passing by the old
    rock-hewn tombstone, bare,
    worn and stale against
    the dying sunset. The
    Pink cotton-candy sky
    is slowly appearing in the
    cold horizon. Scanning to
    my right, the fresh graves,
    my reason for being there.
    I see before me the flag,
    sports teams, a conch-
    shell, Wizard figurine, all
    keep company to the lone
    marker, the signal to
    the grave, the plot, the
    final resting place of
    him. I begin to realize
    how much my loneliness
    is irrelevant in comparison
    to his. His only company
    are the two plots
    beside his own. The hill
    top overlooks the dead
    village below, the bay-
    bridge across the housing
    of the living, bringing
    the soulful from one
    place to another. Through
    the silence, only my voice
    rises above this company
    I begin talking, asking
    him to forgive me for not
    being there for him and
    hoping he is in a
    better place. My tears
    being forming, my voice
    cracks, as cracked as
    that dusty, corroding
    stone nearby. I say my
    piece, then carry myself
    down the hill, pass
    the Trio, pass the silent
    guardians, down the hill, passing
    the signs, pass the living.

    We grew up together
    amongst adolescence, chaos
    and changes. The tidal-wave
    of emotions, we the small
    tugboat in the center
    late night wrestling
    pay-per-view adventures
    we cheered on the greats
    along with the televised fans
    we imagined a world beyond
    our own, a land of fantasy
    and wonder. But now my
    dear friend, you are onto
    the next adventure, the real
    undiscovered country. You will
    always be buried in my
    heart and soul, as you
    are now in the ground.
    But we will meet again
    one day and the adventure
    will continue, for now
    goodbye.-For Andrew Wasson

    By Colin Amato


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