BAKERSFIELD, Calif. -- When the Helm family says, “We know how you feel,” they aren’t just saying the words, they mean them.

Sandy Moffett, customer relations manager for Greenlawn Mortuary wrote to ABC23:

We have suffered just like the families that we serve. We lost our son and brother, Marshall “Red” Helm to AIDS in 1996. After Red died, we decided, like many other local families, to make a memorial quilt panel. These quilt panels represent many things. Their size is the size of a grave site. They are joined with other panels, representing how AIDS touches many lives. And each one tells a beautiful story of a life loved and lost too soon. We worked for weeks, crafting Red’s story out of fabric; his passion for the ocean, dolphins, music and for his family and friends. Then the unthinkable happened. Somewhere in processing, the quilt was lost. For more than five years we agonized over what could have happened. The family had given up hope. But each year, as Audrey Chavez, the Director of the Bakersfield AIDS Project called to request quilts for the annual display, she took a step of faith and requested Red’s Quilt.

Her faith was rewarded, when five years later; she was told that Red’s quilt was available. After double-checking the information, Audrey called us with the good news. Red’s panel had been found and was coming home. Dec. 1, is World AIDS Day and for the first two weeks of December, Greenlawn is honored to be the host facility for those panels. You will see and hear more about AIDS and the quilts in weeks to come. There will be many opportunities for you to partner with us and other community organizations and businesses as we reach out to the families who have suffered and are suffering from this life altering disease.

Red was HIV positive for more than 10 years before he developed full blown AIDS. He and I had an interesting relationship. I came from a conservative Christian background, he was basically non-churched. Yes, our differences were profound, yet our love was unquestionable. We had many late night conversations to discuss our differences, and though they often ended in differences of opinion, they always ended with, “I love you.”

The last time I saw Red, he was altered by AIDS related dementia. He knew who I was, that I was there to see him because he was going to die, but his focus was drawn to his “basket,” that little group of articles that helped him stay connected to the world around him. After a brief welcome, he asked if he could tell me about the things in his basket. He took out the treasures, one by one, telling me the stories behind them and then, in mid sentence, a fog seemed to come across his face. It was only seconds before he re-focused, but when he did, it was as if I had just arrived. “I’m so glad you came to visit. Would you like to see the things in my basket?” I knew then that our time was short.

It was not long after that, that I received the call, “Red’s gone.” No matter how prepared you think you are, the death of a family member is something that you never truly recover from.

It has now been twelve years since Red’s death and each year as the remembrance of World AIDS Day comes around, our sorrow at his loss and our determination to help others know the truth about this disease is brought back to a heightened level. I fear for the young adults of today. Too many think that because of the advances in AIDS treatments, they don’t need to worry about catching the disease. I have heard far too many voices say, “If I get it, I’ll just take the medicine and I’ll be fine.” They have no concept that “fine” still means ultimate death, one that comes much too soon.

It is because we don’t want other families to suffer the same loss that we have, that we have chosen to again partner with the Bakersfield AIDS Project. For one more family to endure what we have, because we choose not to try and educate young people to the very real threat that still exists, that would be a travesty, one that we choose not to allow.