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Connie Jean Stone

Connie Jean Stone, born in the ’50s, a North Idaho native. She left us on Feb. 6, 2020. She loved her parents, Ladd and Doris. She was the third of four children and is survived by two of them. She is missed by many cousins, friends, her massage clients and her beloved pets! No services are planned — if you knew her, you understand. Her resting place will eventually be with her parents at the Westmond Cemetery. A cousin shares the following:

Connie Jean Stone. Most of all we were friends, this almost sister cousin of mine. She, born in January, me, in March. Me, the townie who loved trees, she, the country kid who turned her nose up at town and loved trees and me. Noses pressed to the glass kind of excitement to see each other. Hugs and secrets, barefoot kicking up dust in the sunshine, singing our lungs out kind of friendship. Mailing letters carefully printed, hunched over the paper, tongues out in effort, sent each way kind of love.

Dreams and stories. Summer at grandma Stone’s. The wonder to discover that we were related to all the same people, more than cousins, almost sisters.

Fishing. We loved fishing. Catching grasshoppers in old Prince Albert tobacco cans, standing in a creek so cold your toes turned blue, and cleaning our catch and proudly having grandma fry it up for our breakfast. Looking for kitties in the hay that made my eyes swell shut and Connie leading me back to the house.

And then, at 10, our roles reversed. A massive change from sight to shadows. The relief that she was still she and I was still me, when we finally reunited. Confusion of the big people broken with the blame of what couldn’t be changed and we were separated, with just our letters and dreams to rely on for many years.

Coming together rarely, should have been strangers but strangely still sisters with the conversation taking up where we left off from last time.

So proud and independent and able and kind. Lover of animals and flowers and gardening. A healer, a friend, smart and funny with a heart as big as the sun. A rabbit raiser, chicken farmer, canner, land owner, landlord and masseuse. A do-it-herself, arms are long enough to hug everybody kind of person. She loved the little kids. And me.

We spent a glorious week at the ocean, a gift of freedom to walk unhindered, hear the roar and feel the wind, and there were little kids and fishing. I wish we’d had more of everything, my dear friend, my almost sister cousin. I’m glad we got to tell each other, “I love you” before you had to go.