There are so many things I thought I’d get to tell you. And now you are gone and I am not sure where to begin… It feels like part of my heart is missing, and that’s because you were it. Without my even realizing it, the boy who first called me his Aunt was so in my heart that I took you for granted. Assumed there’d be decades to tell you these things...
How much I loved watching you grow up into a fine young man.
How amazing it was to talk about philosophy with you as you discovered ideas and added your own thoughts and perspectives.
How your mischievous grin could light up the room. How my girls relished with delight the prospect of your visits so they could “make” you play barbies. (I’ll never tell them you didn’t mind.)
Now you’ve left us so suddenly. All I can do is write these things down. Pour them out in a rush and share memories with those who loved you too.
It always amazed me how you’d take up a challenge of public silliness. Like when you put on a little girl’s hot pink t-shirt and strut proudly round the room while she giggled until she couldn’t breathe. Or when you were small, maybe 8 or 9, and you scotch taped your grandmother’s bra to her front picture window and added fluorescent arrows to make sure everyone saw it. For an introvert, this was actually pretty impressive. For the most part, you did things like this for the joy of seeing others laugh. And you were brilliant at making us laugh.
You were also the youngest foodie I’ve ever met. Before you could say most words, you asked for olives from the cottage fridge. A request that baffled me for an hour while you impatiently pointed at the fridge again and again until I eventually figured it out. You were the only person I ever gave a batch of my mom’s home made enchiladas to. Uncle Mike was shocked at first, that I’d give away such treasure, but then we agreed you were going to appreciate them like no other university student could. I will miss all of the experiences of trying new foods with you. Or the simple pleasure of making you a home cooked meal now and then.
You knew how to make others feel special, important, included. Children saw this in you. It is what made you an amazing coach and mentor. It is what made your cousins adore you and hang off you at every opportunity.
You loved unconditionally. Your family was your world, and you ours. That remains unchanged. Your love will live on in us. Like that Beatles song says:
And in the end, the love you take
Is equal to the love you make
Aidan, it feels like there is a hole in my heart now that you’re gone. I will do the only thing I can think of… I’m going to patch it up with the very best of you. I’m going to use those things as glue, to hold me together until I mend you right back into that spot where you always were.
I want you to know how important you are. How much I will miss you.
That I promise I will always be there for Hannah, Quinn, your mom and dad.
I love you always.
