The Night He Died and Saved My Life, Part 3 of 3

The funeral home seemed eerily quiet the night of the visitation, yet, bursting with family, friends, lot of long hair and black leather jackets. And some of the guys who attended, Aaron had skirmishes with but I think this event shook a lot of them. It was overwhelming that so many came out to support him and his family.

I sat for a while in a corner, working up the courage to walk up to his casket. Mary, a girl that was seeing Sean (The lead singer from their band) came up to me. She was crying and wrapped her arms around me. I don’t know that I had really cried yet. I burst into tears and couldn’t stop. She and I were never terribly close but I was overcome that she was so vulnerable and warm. She knew the time Aaron and I spent together, perhaps what we meant to one another.

I finally composed myself and realized, I was there for him, not to feel sorry for myself. I walked up through the crowd of people to pray, talk to Aaron. His prized Fender guitar acting as a book end for his casket. Some people stood nearby, felt as if they were watching guard now. I know they felt as I did that this could have been prevented if only one or some of us were there. At the same time, I couldn’t help but think it happened as it was supposed to.

I was numb as I made my way. I looked at his face which seemed longer than I remember. I followed down his arms to his long hands, and touched his right hand. He was so cold. It felt like chiseled marble, absent of any energy. It is surreal to see someone so young and full of life, now without the spirit that powered them through it. This wasn’t my first funeral nor the first time I walked up to a casket but I think the first time I ever touched the person laying inside.

The next morning we all gathered at a church for him. I remember as I was driving up, Tears in Heaven came on the radio. (Eric Clapton, Will Jennings)

Mouthing the words, “Would you know my name? If I saw you in heaven? Would it be the same? If I saw you in heaven? I searched for parking as tears streamed down my face. I always felt such a connection to the loss expressed in that song. I listened to it countless times.

At the end of funeral service, and after some metal, hard rock songs, I believe they played Forever Young. The sound bouncing off the ceiling and everyone, as he was carried out of the church.

Driving in the procession to the cemetery, I was in another world. Thinking about the times we spent together, driving that same road. One night, he was in what I think was a red YUGO. Did they come in any other color? He barely fit in it. I am not sure where his hot rod was at the time.

He pulled up next to me, doing a pretend too cool for school pose, hand on the wheel like he wanted to race. Me, Bessie and Aaron, in what seemed like a clown car. I imagined us ‘racing’ down Beechmont Avenue again, his head poking out the top of that car. I could not stop laughing. I wished I could tell him to keep driving.

We stood in a gathering, around his burial place, Aaron sealed inside. From the funeral home, I remember he was wearing his favorite leather jacket. They carefully placed his Fender guitar with him, his arms wrapped around it and that ‘No Fear’ bracelet hanging onto his wrist.

When the priest finished with a final prayer, everyone and every thing was still. The collective shock still palpable. I could hear the hushed cries from around me, swimming under and in front of this stark backdrop of endless gray skies, overburdening the leave less trees, from the cold unforgiving winter weather.

I, ever feeling like the outlier, decided to go first. I walked up to his casket and kissed it, put my hand on it saying goodbye. I placed a rose they had handed out when we arrived. I walked to my car waiting for some of my friends.

As I stood waiting, thinking back to a quieter moment. I was touching Aaron’s arm. “No Fear?” I said looking at the bracelet he often wore on his wrist. “Why do you always have Big D (his friend Derrick) with you?” He said “people always pick fights with me.” I asked, if maybe he was inviting some of this….we both laughed.

In that moment, we talked of being in planes and dying. Possibly, being afraid of dying or what happens when we die. I used to be quite sure what he said but its not as clear right now, so I don’t want to say, in the event I am wrong but we did discuss it on that particular night.

This wasn’t a mystery, a who done it. We all knew who killed our friend. We all know to an extent the circumstances before, during and after his death. Maybe in some small way that helps. And, with death, perhaps more specifically sudden death, there seems to be the screaming question of why. Remembering the last times you were together with them. Thinking through their last moments, as if they were your own.

Days after the funeral, while staring out the window from where I worked, I started writing a song for him. Looking out on the small, still, parking lot we had just been two weeks before. The last moment I saw him, his beautiful glowing skin, and smile so brilliant. Gone was the bravado, the man came out from behind the curtain, it was lifted.

Later that night I walked down my driveway, staring into the dark. There were dried leaves getting rushed down the street. They sounded like music as they hit the ground. I felt the aching from the chill in the air that eerily surrounded me. I imagined his Paul Sebastian cologne and it was more than I could take, I wrote Aaron’s Song. (See Part Two)

Ever since his death, he’s come into my dreams and I wake feeling as if we hung out. It has been sometime since that happened. And anytime I’ve been afraid since then, anytime I have felt the weight of suffering or watched others suffer, I picture him. I picture his life, that swagger, his words, his last moments, facing his, (our) fear of death and I feel strength. I know I can get through anything.

Thank you and til we meet again. Rest in peace, Aaron Jay Ziller, 1972-1997

Editors Note: In 2005, I had ordered the CD, I had finished recording in Montana. The boxes of 1000 CD’s were delivered but went to the wrong address. I was in a panic, that something might happen to them. I realized when they arrived two days later, at our apartment, that it was the anniversary of Aaron’s passing.

In 2011, I learned that Aaron had a daughter. I believe she was born, not long after his death. I am not sure if he knew, I think its possible when considering his demeanor in the weeks preceding his death.

It’s Nice To Know You’re Free All rights Reserved, Jennifer McNutt, ASCAP, Jennifer McNutt Music, McNutt Publishing, ASCAP November 23, 2013.