Walls and Humble People

You know I sure hate that wall on Vinburn, the one that killed my son. This is April and the countdown to Aaron's 18th birthday date and the anniversary of his death. Without seeing it coming I woke up yesterday aware of the time ticking away again. How short were the days in '05 between January twenty something when Aaron came home and the collission with the wall. I expected more time and the abrupt ending left with unfinished work. This past week I joined Families Annonymous to do some of the unfinished work.

Yesterday I stopped at the wall. The trucks were back in the yard. Mulch is being moved again. The bins are full. The wall is secure. The fence is mended. I know I'm not put back together as easily. What I don't remember doing is driving onto the shoulder and into the ditch as Aaron's truck traveled that day. Yesterday I did. The route, short as it is, is scary. Walking in Aaron's moccasins I felt a little of what he felt. The angle of the ditch is steep. It feels as if my truck is going to tip over. The high wire post is directly in my face. There is no way to go left because pull of gravity pushes the vehicle down and to the righ. The momentum of the energy keeps the truck going straight. Aaron clearly wanted to miss the pole. It's all he could see. The wall was not his first concern. By the time he missed the pole, the wall was there and the journey was over.

Later in the day I met with a young man--probably 42. He is highly successful, as measured by any business stick, in his endeavors. The time and attention he gave me to the Aaron Foundation and Aaron House was incredible. When I left the meeting I felt better about myself than when I arrived. Tells me a huge amount about this man. Humility was evident. If I only acquire humility of that degree in my life I will leave a happy man.