Aaron’s smile was a tonic for all who met him
MY SON AARON
WHENEVER I think of my son Aaron, it’s his huge smile that comes to mind first. He was such a happy person — yet so disabled that he couldn’t even say hello.
But Aaron had a way with him. Pushing him in his wheelchair through our tiny village of Ingleton in the Yorkshire Dales could take a couple of hours because everyone wanted to stop and see how he was.
And that wonderful smile was such a tonic that I often took him with me when I visited hospitals in my role as a minister of Ingleton evangelical Church. His presence seemed to be uplifting for others.
The great tragedy was that when Aaron was born in August 1987, he was a healthy baby. His multiple disorders — spastic quadriplegia, epilepsy, severe spinal curvature and visual impairment — were caused when he was just four weeks old, by his violent biological father, a heroin addict.
My wife Pat and I fostered him, intending to keep him for a year. We had two children and had fostered babies before. But Aaron had such profound needs that he became a full-time job for my wife.
And somehow he became family, and our fostering role just kept going until, in 2004, when Aaron was 16, we adopted him.
Of course, doctors warned us that Aaron’s health was not compatible with a long life. He had repeated chest infections and often needed hospital treatment. But Aaron was a fighter and kept defying the odds.
He attended a special school in Carnforth until he was 18 and was very happy there. After he left, I took early retirement and we spent another happy decade together — he became a familiar figure at churches I visited, football and cricket matches, brass band concerts — in fact, everywhere we went.
Great kindness was shown to us because of Aaron. One afternoon, we were having coffee and scones in a cafe but when we went to settle the bill, we were told the staff had had a whip-round and there was nothing to pay.
When Aaron finally succumbed to a chest infection, the family was devastated.
For someone with such profound disabilities, his pleasures were simple. He loved being pushed in his wheelchair, to breathe fresh air and feel the breeze on his face.
And that’s how we remember him now, with an annual family walk up Ingleborough peak. We miss Aaron every day but we are so thankful for the years we spent with him.
aaron luke Mollitt, born august 30, 1987, died May 18, 2016, aged 28.