When I was 21, almost 22, one of my best friends from late high school/early adolescence died of a heroin overdose, and it sucked. Sucked. Sucked. Sucked. When JT died, Aton was my salvation. When Aton died 18 months later, it was devastation.

Anyway. JT had had a hard adolescence, struggling with his addictions, and when he died, I wrote his mom a letter, that, honestly, I can't remember much of now, almost 12 years later. I know I tried to reassure her that he knew his family loved him (it was clear) and that he loved them (again, it was clear, if muddy through the turbulence) but I don't remember much more. I was at their house when their new house was set up, and I remember their rabbit was named "Dinner," and that his brother shared the same name as a major rock star (full name) and that his sister thought she was trilingual because she knew "French, English, and Pig Latin." They had the same dishes I did, growing up, Hearts & Flowers, and his mom's name was…. Ingrid.

When Ingrid's name struck me, when I was pregnant, it just hit like lightning and fit, and that's why I was so insistent upon it, why it just seemed so Right. And I knew it was JT's mom's name, but while some names would be ruined by folks, this one wasn't. She is a good person. (Actually, she and her husband used to socialize with my mom when she first moved North, which is kind of interesting…) I named her, that was that.

Last week, my folks were down here (or somewhere) and a woman came into their studio to get some framing done, and asked one of the employees if my dad still owned it (yes), if my mom was around (no), and if I had ever finished my degree (yes). She mentioned that I was a friend of her son's, and the clerk said "oh, well that's her daughter Ingrid right there" and gestured to a giant photo that hangs as a sample on the wall, taken this summer. She apparently got a … look across her face, and said "excuse me?" and T said "that's Ingrid S, Gretchen's daughter."

When I heard the story, I asked if she'd left her address, because I really WOULD like to write to her, to let her know that some of us turned out pretty okay, and that I think of her, and JT, often. This week, she came back to pick up her stuff, and my mom was in, and they talked. Apparently, she still reads and rereads that letter I wrote, almost 12 years ago. The same-name-as-rock-star had some "hard times," but is now a civil engineer. The trilingual is in medical school. And I don't even have to hear from my mother that she mourns JT every day.

So, I want to write to her. I think of her all the time, especially having given Ingrid her name, I feel more sad for her, now, knowing what she lost. All that grief of my 20s was hard, but now? My god. Those guys were my friends, Aton, even more, and they were also someone's baby. When Ingrid wakes at 2am and wants nothing more than to snuggle down between Dave and I? Cool. Someday she won't want it. I will never, ever wish I had snuggled my kid less — whether that comes through my hippie-ass breastfeeding/babywearing/cosleeping practices, or just in the "Big Hug! SQUEEZY HUGS!" that she asks for and receives when I pick her up from daycare. I am blessed with each and every one.

How do I convey that to Ingrid the mother? That I have never, ever forgotten their family, that Ingrid isn't JUST a "pretty name," to me, but this little thread back to those dark, dark days, reminding me of how far I've come, and how much others have lost. I just don't know how to put it into words.