Bright smile warmed many hearts

Deepa Bharath

Editor’s note: Beginning today, we offer a new weekly feature called

Living Memories. It won’t be the story of former city leaders or

captains of industry, it will be a story of a lives lived outside of

the public spotlight, yet lives that warmed the hearts of those who

knew them best.

You only had to meet Aron Negron once to love him a lifetime.

An hour, a day, a month. It didn’t matter how long you’ve known

Aron. You saw the same, unassuming smile. You saw a gentle,

compassionate soul.

Aron was only 19, but he had big plans. He had completed a

semester at Orange Coast College’s Emergency Medical Technician

program. He was going to be a doctor and help people.

It was only natural. He loved people and they loved him.

It wasn’t always that way, though. In fact, Aron’s biggest fear

growing up was he wouldn’t have any friends. He got teased at school

because he had to wear a hearing aid since he was in kindergarten.

He never got used to those horrible nicknames: “Miracle-Ear,”

“Retard.”

It made him angry. The hearing aids always disappeared. He fed one

to a dog. Another went flying out of the school bus window. And the

several others after that? No one really knows what happened to

those.

But the turning point came in seventh grade when his father sat

him down and explained to him that these things were really

expensive. That he couldn’t afford to see them disappear like that.

That day, something clicked inside Aron. He never stopped smiling.

He never looked back. He didn’t care any more about that little thing

that hugged his inner ear or the people who thought it was weird or

funny.

When Aron grew up, he really grew. He was 6 feet tall and had

muscles to die for. And he had the voice of Barry White. His IQ was

so high, his parents hid the scores from him so his “head wouldn’t

get too big.”

Music was a huge part of his life. His parents had a piano in the

house. Aron suddenly took to it. One day, he played “Chopsticks.” It

sounded all right. Soon, neighbors were asking Aron’s parents to

leave more windows open so they could catch more of that soulful

music.

A year ago, Aron bought his first guitar. He taught himself to

play it. On the guitar, he played songs and emulated his rock heroes.

He played it for his 11-month-old niece, Madilyn. She was his biggest

fan. Her eyes lighted up every time she saw her uncle.

When he strummed his guitar, she just sat there mesmerized.

But the music Aron played on the piano came from his heart.

Weeks ago, he played the piano at the funeral of a close family

friend. His friend, Natalie, sang “Amazing Grace” at the service. She

wasn’t sure of herself. But Aron gave her confidence.

“Natalie,” he told her, “You did great. If I died and had a

funeral, I would absolutely want you to sing.”

So, Natalie sang “Amazing Grace” at Aron’s funeral on Friday --

the day he would have turned 20.

The first thing Aron ever bought with his own money was his

motorcycle. He was proud of his metallic blue Suzuki SV650. He bought

a brand new helmet to match its silver and gray rim.

He loved to ride. His dad taught him six months ago. And ever

since he rode like the wind. On the morning of Jan. 14, he went

riding in his favorite spot in Laguna Beach. He never made it home.

Aron met with a fatal accident.

He never got to take those long rides he dreamed about. He never

got to become a doctor. He never got to marry the love of his life.

He never got to play catch with his kids. He never got to grow old.

But Aron has left his image imprinted in the hearts of his family,

friends and those who barely knew him.