Photo by Julie Vinsand: Fort Dodge's Aaron Miller greets then-Dodger Tory Bennett after a hit at Rogers Park.

He came strutting down our street – if you knew him, you recognized the confident walk from a mile away – on a random Fourth of July a few years back.

We were standing in the front lawn, lighting off fireworks. He was at our neighbor’s house, the Murmans, spending time with Uncle Bruce, Aunt Dee and cousins Brian and Beth.

At dusk, we stood in the lawn and talked – first casually about our favorite Major League Baseball teams and the Fort Dodge Dodgers. Then, more seriously, about his career path.

Conversations with Aaron Miller often went that way. He was known for being light and playful, of course. But if and when the time came, there were plenty of sincere heart-to-hearts.

That night, Aaron told me he had been looking into a few teaching opportunities in other communities. He was at a crossroads of sorts in Fort Dodge; on one hand, he wholeheartedly embraced the role of assistant coach, middle school ambassador, and ardent supporter of everything and everyone Dodger related.

On the other, he wondered if there was something more out there for him.

We exchanged texts a few times in the days following that conversation. It’s funny; after hearing of his sudden and tragic passing Saturday morning, I started scrolling through our message history, thinking I’d find what we had said to each other immediately. Instead, it took me a while. I realized both how many times we’d texted back and forth, and how often he checked in on what was happening in my life.

Simply put, Aaron cared. He wanted the best for you, and found ways to make you feel valued. He’d learn about your favorites and remember them, often joking with a quick message or comment. I’ll miss him teasing me about Michigan State, my son’s music, or something funny my daughters had said in a class or a huddle.

Aaron wasn’t married, and didn’t have any kids of his own. But he was a father figure to thousands of children at the middle school and high school, often during incredibly difficult moments of loneliness or uncertainty. Our district was his family.

That was my message to him on the Fourth of July night and in those subsequent texts. His work was appreciated. His ability to interact and bond with kids, crucial. And we were damn lucky to have him in Fort Dodge – his home. He connected with so many people in quiet, unassuming ways that tend to be overlooked in life, yet always remembered.

Aaron still had so much to give this world, leaving us at the unthinkable age of 35. This is a devastating blow to his family, his athletes, his students – so many of them, true friends who felt like better people when they were around him.

And when all is said and done, isn’t that the point? Finding those who bring out the best in all of us.

This has been an incredibly difficult few weeks for our community. We lost Steve Gibson and Larry Lee – two more loyal Fort Dodgers who specialized in the same kind of personal connection. Not perfect people, of course, but they shared their passion, education, and commitment with the world. They made empathy and “mudita” – a favorite saying for Miller and his FDSH softball program, which essentially means finding joy and pleasure in the success of others – look easy.

In reality, being selfless and caring for your neighbors – even when it may not directly benefit you – is a rare and special trait. A role that, without them around, will take a conscious and collective effort from all of us to fill instead.

Looking back, I’m thankful that I let Aaron know I appreciated the little things that were actually a big deal – like our conversation that Fourth of July night. I tried to do the same with Steve and Larry. I’m not always great about it. None of us are perfect when it comes to how often we should be saying thank you or I love you.

We’re not promised tomorrow. So if you need to reach out to a family member, a friend, an acquaintance or even a stranger in need, do so without reservation or hesitation. Our community will need it many times over now as we mourn the loss of these seemingly-irreplaceable souls.

Eric Pratt is Sports Editor at The Messenger. Contact him via email at sports@messengernews.net, or on Twitter @ByEricPratt