Back Porch
I'm told the toughest thing a parent can do is bury a child.
Some parents are inexplicably called upon to accept this terrible burden. My friend Becky Johnson, The Times' market development director, is one of these special people.
She recently lost her son, Aaron Barnard, 33, in an accident.
I sat down with Becky and her youngest son, Nathan Barnard, to remember this fine young man's life. You might think it would be a rough moment. It was; but it wasn't. I'll get to that directly.
Let me back up.
I had the pleasure of meeting Aaron once, and I recall his easy way with people. He had a look in his eye of a guy who'd never wasted a second.
"When he was born, he was born with a lot of energy," said Becky, flipping through a scrapbook of Aaron. As she turned pages, he grew from a blond-haired baby to a man.
"His grandparents called him 'Hurricane Aaron,'" she said.
"He'd pull out all of the pots and pans," Nathan said.
Aaron, a 1990 Gainesville High School graduate and Georgia Southern University alumnus, grew up to be an adventurer. His passion for new things led him to Asia, Russia, Europe, Central and South America. He studied language in Costa Rica. He bottled his own brand of wine. He had many friends.
"He'd rather spend money on doing things than having things," said Nathan, who lives in Washington's Cascade Mountains in a one-time mining camp that's today a Lutheran retreat.
"He was incredibly supportive of me," he said.
Although they often visited Aaron in San Francisco, it was the weeklong visit following his death that gave new illuminating glimpses of his life.
Aaron's boss and mentor told them they didn't have a job opening when Aaron applied. They invented one because they really liked him.
Aaron was a giving guy, often taking in folks until they got on their feet, friends said. "His house was always open to anyone," Becky said.
Every Thanksgiving, Aaron and his friends put on a lavish dinner. Their goal was to invite one new person each year who'd never been to a Thanksgiving dinner.
Aaron urged everyone to live more fully. "He made me a better man," said Terry Forbord, a family friend.
One of Aaron's last gifts was bringing together a family scattered from Georgia to Washington to reflect not only on his life, but their own as well.
"I always taught my boys to be good friends and look after each other. I wanted them to be friends for life," Becky said.
"He would have been my family, I was hoping, for a long time," Nathan said. "Now, everything he was and who he was will continue to live in me," he said.
Which is a considerable thing, to carry not only that love, but a life philosophy born of that love.
And though separated for a time, they look to be reunited again one day.
"In the scheme of things, we'll see Aaron again shortly," Becky said.
Then, quoting from the character Stubb in "Moby Dick," she recited: "I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I'll go to it laughing."
"That was Aaron. He enjoyed every step of the journey," she said.
And he went laughing.
Jim Chapman, a Lula native, is a columnist for Morris Multimedia. E-mail: jchapman@gainesvilletimes.com
Originally published Sunday, October 23, 2005