#my brother flew from the us here to Germany to visit our childhood dog before she was out down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

exxar1 · 4 years

Text

Aaron

10/29/2020

This picture was taken at my 9th or 10th birthday party, which would make it summer of ’87 or ’88. Pictured from left to right are Aaron Walker, my brother Jeremy, me, Jeff Reed and Brett Biers. Aaron, Brett, Jeff and I grew up together in Twin Falls, Idaho. I can’t tell you exactly when we all first met, but I don’t remember my grade school years without any of them, and I know there’s a photo album in my parents’ basement with a picture of me and Aaron playing together when we were only a few months old. The four of us were inseparable, and, while there were others in our circle of friends, these three guys are the main cast in my memories from childhood.

Yesterday, as I clocked off for my lunch break at Walmart, my watch signaled a new text notification. I glanced down, and the world around me came to a grinding, silent halt. It was from my dad, notifying me that Aaron had died.

I stared at the message, not quite comprehending what I was seeing. I read the words, but they had no meaning. I just kept reading them over and over, trying to wrap my mind around this terrible news. I finally forced myself to get moving, and I called my dad for more details as I left the store.

Even now, as I write this, it still doesn’t seem real.

I spent all that afternoon in that strange, detached daze that only sudden grief can cause. Memories flooded me in tidal waves that forced me to fight back tears as choked out the words “Good afternoon, welcome to Walmart” to the strangers coming into the store. There was, thankfully, only two hours left in my shift and, as soon as it was over, I wasted no time in clocking out and racing for the solitude of my car.

Here’s a few memories of my old friend:

Aaron, Brett, Jeff and I at our friend Jake’s dairy farm in Jerome, Idaho. There was a massive, deep manure pond that we all loved to chuck giant rocks into and then leap back to avoid the splash effect. (It’s a wonder none of us ever fell in.)

Sitting on the grass outside school during lunch, bartering for each other’s desserts, and then swapping dirty jokes, making sure to speak low enough so the nearby teachers wouldn’t hear. Aaron and Jeff had the best ones, as I recall. Most of them were about Pollocks and Jews, and more than a few were good, old fashioned fart jokes. (There is no one outside the age of grade school boys who can truly appreciate the fine humor of bodily functions.)

Aaron, in particular, always made me laugh. He was the one in class sticking pencils up his nose or using scotch tape to make funny faces. And, if I’m recalling correctly, he could also use scotch tape and notebook paper to make the sharpest Chinese throwing star this side of the Rockies.

Aaron – like his father – had a particular sense of humor. In addition to the aforementioned jokes, he loved nothing more than a good prank. His favorite one was to pick up a deck of cards and ask me if I want to play “Fifty-two card pickup”. I said, “Sure.” He then tossed the entire deck on the floor and said, “There ya go. Now pick ‘em up.” (The sad part is, I fell for that joke more than once.) He also enjoyed reaching across the table at lunch and jamming his finger into the middle of my PB&J while asking, “Is that your sandwich?” That one always pissed me off and I’d retaliate by mashing his sandwich or tossing his chips on the floor. (Something else you should know about grade school boys: we don’t have the best of manners, and we show our friendship in odd ways.)

(And, while we’re on the subject of practical jokes, Brett once gave me what I thought was a chunk of oat bran cereal to snack on. After eating it, he laughed and told me it was dog food.)

I remember fishing trips with the Walkers and me trying to learn the fine art of skipping rocks on the lake water. Aaron and his dad taught me and my brothers how to properly gut a fish. That I still remember clearly, and I could probably do it right now if I had a fresh fish and knife here on my coffee table.

I also remember the four of us hiding from the 6th grade bullies at recess, and there was one time when Aaron had to be rushed to the emergency room because one of the older boys gave him a white piece of candy that was actually a mothball. (These were the same older boys that always teased me for sometimes playing with the girls at recess.)

I remember sleepovers at the Walker house where Aaron and I played Frogger on his Atari. (I believe that Jeff was the first among us to have an original Nintendo system, and it was at one of his birthday parties that I was introduced to Super Mario Bros.) The Walkers were also professional UNO players, and I almost always lost to Aaron, his brothers, or his dad.

There were summer trips to Red Cliff Bible Camp in Pinedale, Wyoming, where we spent a week enjoying all kinds of outdoor recreation as well as nightly church services. If my memory is correct, Aaron and I were the only ones from our circle of friends in grade school who attended Red Cliff once every summer. While I still remember bits and pieces of those summers, there is one clear memory that stands out from the rest. It was one night towards the end of the week, and a bunch of us kids were seated around a large campfire in front of – or near to – the main lodge. It was one of those perfect summer nights – not too cold, just a hint of a breeze, and vast sky full of stars. We were all in the midst of a sing-a-long being led by one of the counselors, and, in the middle of it, Aaron turned to me and put his arm around my shoulders. He smiled at me, and, with tears in his eyes, said, “I love you, man!” “I love you too,” I replied, throwing my arm around him.

For most of high school there was only ten in our class, and we became as close as any group of kids could be at a Christian private school in a town of less than forty-five thousand. There were Friday night ski trips where I remember Aaron on his snowboard, swooshing down the mountain at various speeds and trying not to faceplant. I’m pretty sure it was either him or one of his brothers that ended up crashing into a tree because he went off the trail after dark. (If not Aaron, it was somebody in our class, I know that much for sure.)

In our senior year, during homeroom on Monday morning of each week, our class would select a saying or motto to write in the upper corner of the blackboard that would stay there the whole week. For awhile, Aaron was the one picking the sayings, and they were usually lyrics from current, popular rock songs. It took a few weeks before our teacher, Mrs. Tutty, finally caught on and gave us all a good scolding. In the years since, whenever I hear the song, “The World I Know” by Collective Soul, I always think of Aaron.

Also during our senior year: a winter trip to South Dakota that was just us boys and Brett’s dad. We spent a weekend up in a cabin in the mountains and rented snow mobiles. There’s a lot from that trip that has stayed with me these many years, but the only thing that’s relevant here is that Aaron succeeded in crashing his snow mobile when he tried to cut through a grove of trees. Thankfully, the worst of the damage was a cracked windshield that was easily replaced. The rest of that trip was a lot of guy bonding time that definitely included more dirty jokes and Jeff once again demonstrating his remarkable ability to make fart noises with his armpit.

In the years after high school, as we all set out on our respective paths into the world, we promised we would stay in touch. And we all did . . . for awhile. The path I chose was the Army and it took me to a posting in Germany. But that career didn’t end well, and when I needed a character witness for my courts-martial, I called Aaron. The Army flew him overseas, and were briefly reunited in Hanau, Germany, in fall of ’99. We hadn’t seen each other for a couple years, and we had fun catching up. He told me about a girl he met at college, and I told him all about life in the military. (It wasn’t great.)

In the years that followed, as life took us further and further apart, all of us from the class of ‘97 lost touch, as childhood friends often do. Aaron and I, however, stayed in sporadic contact with one another since we were both back living in Twin Falls by 2001, but we didn’t really hang out on a regular basis. I eventually moved to Boise in the fall of 2003 to attend BSU, and Aaron was busy getting his realtor’s license. He even spent the night at my apartment one time because one of his tests was at a campus in Boise. We ordered pizza, watched a movie, and spent the rest of the evening get caught up on each other’s lives. It was at this time that I decided to tell Aaron that I was gay. I don’t think he quite knew how to react, and, while he tried to be supportive, my confession turned the evening awkward. I changed the subject, and we didn’t speak of it after that.

After I graduated BSU in December of 2005, I moved back to Twin, but Aaron and I didn’t get together anymore. I tried a few times to get in touch with him, but my calls and texts went ignored. I was a little hurt, at first, but I didn’t know what else to do so I just let it go.

A few years ago, after I had relocated to Las Vegas, and when I was back up in Twin for a family visit, I received a text from Aaron. He wanted to take me to dinner. I said yes, and, while I was excited to be reunited, I was also nervous. We hadn’t talked in many years, and it seemed a little strange that he suddenly wanted to hang out with me again after all this time.

One of the things that I’ve always loved about Aaron is that he’s so easy to talk to. Our dinner conversation started where we’d left off several years earlier, as if nothing had changed. I told him I was glad he had reached out to me, and that I was afraid I had alienated him because he wasn’t comfortable with me being gay. Aaron assured me that, no, that wasn’t it, and he had no issue with it. He’d just been going through some things in his own life at that time, and he hadn’t meant to lose touch the way he did. The rest of our conversation was spent like the others before: catching each other up on what we’d been doing for the last few years. He had accomplished way more than me: a beautiful family and a very successful real estate business.

After dinner, we ended up at Elevation 486, where we sat outside on the canyon rim by the fire, and we continued talking. At some point, another guy took one of the empty seats on the other side of the fire, and I don’t remember if it was Aaron that struck up a conversation with him, or if the stranger made a remark about something Aaron had just said to me. Either way, Aaron and this guy started talking, and their conversation lasted for several minutes. I watched, amazed, wondering if Aaron already knew this guy through work or something else. By the end of their talk, as the guy stood up to leave, Aaron gave him a business card and told him to contact him if he ever had any real estate needs. After the guy left, I turned to Aaron. “Was that one of your friends?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. Aaron just laughed and shook his head. “No.” I laughed too, utterly amazed and a little envious. I have never been able to be that kind of a people person. I’ve always been too introverted and socially awkward to be able to instantly connect with strangers the way Aaron connected to that guy that night around a fire pit.

That, in a nutshell, was Aaron. He was the friendliest, kindest soul you would ever meet, and he knew no stranger. Even if he and I hadn’t started out in a playpen together, we would have probably met somewhere on the road of life and been instant friends. He, like all of us, had his demons, but he loved God and he loved his family, and he will forever be missed during the rest of our time down here. I look forward to that time when we can be together again on the other side, reunited at the feet of our Heavenly Father.

Goodbye, my old friend.

#life #friendship #aaron #twinfalls #idaho

0 notes