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
Nice!
ReplyDeleteIt is so sad when you see a life stopped short. What a beautiful tribute you have to this young man,
ReplyDeleteAndrew 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.
ReplyDelete"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