His name is Don. Spiritually they were brothers. There was nothing they wouldn't do for each other. They loved each other. They were best friends.

Every morning Don would come to the house around eight O'Clock before Ashton left for work. I'd hear them laughing and joking -- talking like best friends do. If they didn't see each other they'd talk on the phone.

If Don needed Ashton -- for whatever reason -- Ashton was there. And Don was always there for Ashton. There isn't anything they wouldn't do for each other.

I called Don from the hospital. He was there in a flash. Ashton had not yet died and Don and I waited together, both fearful of the outcome. No words were needed. It was enough for me that Don was there.

Then the doctor and nurse came into the small room. It was over. Don and I held each other and cried. He was suffering as much as I. His best friend had just died.

Don went into high gear. He took care of everything. The "arrangements", making sure the house was always stocked with food, the memorial service at the house, and much, much more. He practically lived at the house, despite the fact that he has own wife and child. Despite the fact that he continued to suffer.

And the argued liked best friends... and like little kids. One or the other would huff out of the house and go home, only to call the other and apologize later in the day. They were family.

And he still checks on Noah and myself every day. He'll listen to me when I'm having a "rough" day. He understands. He has "rough" days.

He told me that while he rarely dreams, he has been dreaming of Ashton. In the dream they sit in Don's work shop, as they often did, and talk of life, people, and whatever is on their minds. He said the dreams are vivid... so real. Maybe they really are sitting together and talking.

Don was Ashton's best friend. Ashton was Don's best friend.