Boyd

I'm going to tell you a story.

Some of you may have visited a building not too far from us, called the Developmental Center. It's a facility for the mentally and physically handicapped to go and live in and receive treatment and help from the State. 

I'm absolutely terrified of that building.

Let me tell you why.

My great-grandfather Arnold had a little brother named Boyd. Boyd was born perfect, his only blemish a simple allergy. Seeing as this was the 40's, however, Boyd's parents did not discover this allergy until much later.

One thing you should know about your body: if you're allergic to something, let's say milk, and you expose yourself to it, like drinking milk a lot, then you're going to have some problems. This was the case with Boyd. 

Due to a lot of exposure to milk growing up, Boyd received a heavy amount of brain damage, rendering him mentally handicapped. 

This seemingly slipped past Arnold. He and Boyd were inseparable, they were described as being "best buddies". Nothing could come between them (except for my great-grandma).

Arnold was married and moved away to pursue his career in Geology. He had a wonderful life ahead of him.

A few years later he came home to visit. He entered his house, only to find that Boyd was not there. After a little digging, he discovered that his parents did not share his view on his little brother. They had grown tired of dealing with his behavior and had taken him to the Utah State Developmental Center in American Fork. Arnold tried the best he could to help his brother, to get him out of the facility, but because he was under state care and still under his parent's custody, there was nothing he could do.

His parents never visited him. He died a few years later. 

I'm terrified of being forgotten. 

If I have one wish in life, it would be that at least one person in the world will remember me. And if I go crazy, someone will come and hold my hand, and look out the window with me.

You'll remember me, won't you?