In loving memory
I woke up this morning and realized the date. Twenty years ago today, my brother left this Earth to be with his Heavenly Father.
It’s crazy to consider he was only 24 years old. If you ever heard someone say he was wise beyond his years, I feel like that was an understatement. It seemed like he always knew the secret to life, and he lived his few short years on this Earth sharing it with his shining, smiling example. Despite his lifelong health issues, I don’t think I ever knew, or still know, a person with more capacity for living life to its fullest.
I didn’t even realize it then, because he was just always my big brother. But finally now, in my 42nd year, I feel like I have a small fraction of understanding on a spiritual level. So many times this past year I wished to sit with him and talk about Jesus. I was a Christ follower back then, but I’ve only recently grown in my faith to what feels closer to where I can recall he was already at 24.
He lived and breathed for Jesus. He loved others like Jesus more than anyone else I’ve ever known personally. He stopped at nothing to share the gospel with others. Not fear. Not discomfort. Nothing. He knew it was the most important mission.
The Brother I Remember
One thing I want to mention was also said in his guestbook, over and over. You would never know if my brother had any enemies. He genuinely treated all people the same. I remember countless times he was the one person who reached out to whoever was overlooked or unpopular in a room. He made everyone feel included. Even his socially awkward, very uncool little sister.
He always had my back, from the very beginning.
Some of my favorite memories are the smallest ones. Dairy Queen runs. Hanging out in his truck picking up food. DJ dance parties in his bedroom, probably annoying the neighbors with the bass. Playing video games. Proofreading and testing out little computer programs he’d built, just because he wanted my opinion. But most of all, the way he made absolutely everything funny. He was never afraid of being silly, or of what anyone thought about him. One time, after he got a video camera with night vision, we pretended to record our own parody of the Blair Witch Project. It was just nonstop silliness with him.
He was so fun to be around. He was my big brother. My hero. My comfort zone. The one person I could be completely myself around, without criticism, judgment, or bullying. No matter how unhinged.
I spent time today reading through his obituary guestbook. (I challenge you all to read it.) And even though he was my brother, and I shared this Earth with him for 22 years of his life, it’s so easy to forget the people whose lives he touched.
I live today surrounded by people that don’t know Jesus. Even in my own family. And I just think about how Aaron would be encouraging me to be more bold about sharing.
Look at his guestbook. Twenty years ago was before social media exploded. And he truly impacted and influenced more people than most of us have in our whole lives, even if we have thousands of followers.
That’s a wake up call for me. Because I can’t say it any better than his best friend, David VanKirk, said it:
“I can assure you that his prayer is the same today as it was while he was still with us, and that is that everyone on this earth would learn to accept the gift of Christ so that we can all party in heaven in the afterlife.
Remember that when you start to miss Aaron, the only way to get closer to him is to get closer to the God he served through Jesus Christ.”
That was his greatest prayer.
I so wish I could talk to him. To see how he’d be with his niece. To have deep Bible chats. I feel like I’m only just starting to walk in God’s calling for my life, but he found his so early. What an overachiever. 🤣❤️
I miss his sense of humor. I miss his smile. I miss how completely stupid we could be together, because he was, he always was, my comfort zone. When I was shy, socially awkward, and had low self esteem, he’s what dragged me out. I eventually learned how to do it myself after he left this Earth. But I’ll always be grateful to him for knowing just exactly how to set me on the right path, and being the reason I started on what would be an embarrassingly long journey of spiritual growth.
After he passed, I had to learn to be my own person. I had to force myself to be social. I eventually even completely overhauled my life and started a journey to losing 100 pounds, because I felt so inspired by his short life and lifelong health issues. How much more he would have lived if he’d had my health. I felt like I was taking mine for granted.
Truth is, the enemy worked hard against me in my own head for many years, and I’ve only recently been able to look back and see how he’d been telling me lies my whole life. That I was inadequate. Unqualified. Unlovable. Incapable. I only really learned over the last year the truth behind “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” and the power of the Holy Spirit within me. I’ve felt so much more confident stepping into the places God has called me, knowing that truth.
“I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”
Philippians 4:13, NIV
The Ripple That Reached My Dad
I also think about our Dad’s own spiritual transformation because of all this. He’s retold the story over and over for the past 20 years, and it’s been so amazing to watch his faith grow, to have deep theological discussions with him, and to see how he transforms daily by finally understanding the importance of surrendering the things he’s always struggled to carry to our Heavenly Father.
He says now that if you had told him, the day my brother was born, that his son was going to die and his own life was going to be better because of it, he would have said you were crazy. But it’s true. Because after Aaron died, my Dad found Jesus.
He retells constantly of my brother’s unwavering courage while he was waiting for a heart transplant, whenever anyone asked him if he was afraid. He would always say:
And if you heard him say it, you’d know it wasn’t just words to him. He knew. He was not afraid to die. And he spent every one of his last few days in the hospital being a witness and sharing the gospel with the other patients and the hospital staff. Don’t believe me? Read the guestbook. It’s incredible how many lives he touched in just his last days. It’s inspiring.
Aaron with his Bible, during one of his last days.
Let this be a reminder for us all. What are we waiting for? What are we afraid of? Who are we living for?
Do you?
“Though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.”
1 Peter 1:8, KJV