Remembering an Appalachian boy with a pure heart and kind soul

Mar. 1—The sudden and tragic death of 15-year-old Aidan Hoglan has sent shock waves of grief across Haywood County this week. Aidan was known for his kind heart and sunny disposition, always quick to lend a helping hand. He cherished his Appalachian upbringing, from coon hunting and fishing with his papaw to driving tractors and playing hymns on his banjo.

Aidan had been sick with type B flu for several days but took a dramatic and sudden turn overnight Monday from what appeared to be a septic-like infection that spread through his body.

His mother discovered his dire condition when he woke up Tuesday, rushing him to Haywood Regional Medical Center. He was promptly flown by helicopter to Mission Hospital, where he died a short time later.

"He was my only flesh and blood, and God, I miss him," said his mom, Sabrina Greene-Rusk. "The pain is relentless, a maelstrom of bitterness, anger, and sickness. I don't want anybody to ever have to feel this."

When Aidan's heart stopped and she realized he was gone, she was so overcome by grief she screamed "There is no God." But she knows that isn't true.

"Every time I have doubts, God sends some kind of love note and I have to ask forgiveness all over again," Greene-Rusk said.

Aidan was a devout Christian, known to take over the Sunday pulpit on occasion from his papaw who's the preacher at Panther Creek Baptist Church.

"There is no doubt about it, the Lord has a special place for him. I don't understand it, but the Lord needed him more than I did. I won't question God about it. He's seeing sights I have only dreamed about and preached about for the past 40 years," said Rev. Ronald Greene.

Aidan loved to wander the hills of Fines Creek with his papaw, and the pair would often go to a special place on the mountain behind the house to pray.

"We'd each carry a rock up. He'd take one and I'd take one, and we'd go up there and talk to the Lord, sometimes for a long time, singing gospel hymns as we were walking back down," Greene said. "I haven't got the courage to go back up yet, but when I do, I'll take two stones — one for him and one for me."

Greene-Rusk nearly died during Aidan's childbirth and was advised never to have another child, but she has a nine-year-old step-daughter. Aidan's step-dad, J.J. Rusk, faced the unbearable task of breaking the news to his daughter.

"I set her down and said, 'You know daddy loves you right?' She said 'I know you love me daddy.' And I said, 'I'm sorry, but Aidan went to Heaven.' And we just cried together. We just held each other and cried. That's all we knew to do," Rusk shared.

The outpouring of support and prayers has been overwhelming. Greene-Rusk said her husband can't get through the grocery store without people stopping him, people he doesn't even know.

"We didn't realize that many people knew who we are," said Greene-Rusk, who as a professional photographer has captured countless weddings and family photo shoots across the county.

A kind heart

Aidan was a freshman at Tuscola, where fellow students are struggling with his death.

"He was a once-in-a-lifetime friend. He was that one guy who would never let you down," said Aiden Tucker, Aidan's best friend. "He wasn't like a lot of kids who will just brush you off. He'd sit there and talk to you. He would be your friend no matter what. He had a real good heart."

Aidan had a charisma about him, according to Tuscola Agriculture Teacher Sarah Smart-Nolte.

"Aidan stuck out in a crowd. He was a very tall young man, but it wasn't his height that drew your attention to him. He was always happy-go-lucky. He had an unwavering smile," she said. "The world is a hard place to be and the people who are always happy and smiling — you need those."

News of Aidan's death had spread through the school by Tuesday afternoon.

"Some have had a rough time just grasping what happened and trying to cope with that loss," said Tuscola teacher Jamie Moody. "They are hanging in there the best they can, the students are supportive of each other, and that helps."

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Moody now has an empty seat in her first period animal science class.

"It is hard to know he is no longer sitting in that chair, and it will stay empty the rest of the semester," she said.

Aidan never met a stranger.

"When he was 3 or 4 years old, we were having dinner at the truck stop and I said, 'Where did Aidan go?' He was sitting on one of the stools at the counter, charming a young girl," Greene-Rusk recalled.

Aidan would routinely take others under his wing in need of a friend. That was the case for Hayden Sorrells, who landed in a Vacation Bible School class several years ago with no kids he knew.

"I was just trying to fit in and met Aidan. We became friends as soon as the first couple words came out of each other's mouth," Sorrells said. "You couldn't meet a nicer dude. He tried to make everyone happy. He was one of those people if you made friends with him, you'd have him for a lifetime."

Sorrells didn't believe it when his dad told him Aidan had died. Aidan's dad, Justin Hoglen, is known by the nickname "Boots." Sorrells's dad told him to come sit down on Tuesday, that he had something to tell him.

"He said, 'Boot's kid died,' and I said, 'No he didn't.' I was in denial for a hot minute. Then I went to my room and just stared at the wall. I just couldn't take it in," Sorrells recalled.

Tucker can't imagine a world without Aidan. When Tucker moved to Haywood County in fifth grade, Aidan taught him the ways of country kids.

"I had never been fishing in a creek or caught trout before. We'd go bullfrog hunting, take his coon dogs walking the woods, build fires. He loved doing that — every time I went to his house he was making a fire," Tucker said. "He was definitely an old soul."

While Tucker and Aidan spelled their names differently, they were known as the two Aidans.

"It was funny because his papaw would say 'Aidan,' and we'd both turn our heads. So he started calling us Aidan 1 and Aidan 2," Tucker said. "It's hard to believe he's gone."

Aidan made an impression on nearly everyone he met, including former Sheriff Greg Christopher. Aidan was chosen for a week-long summer camp with the sheriff's office during Christopher's tenure.

"Right from the start, I knew he was a special young man. There was something about him that glowed," Christopher said. "He was one of those young men you knew was going to be successful because of his smile, his attitude and his personality."

Once, Aidan came to a fallen officer's memorial in the historic courthouse, and after it was over, asked if he could sit in the judge's chair.

"He was all dressed up, and you would have thought he was 25 years old. It just broke my heart when I heard about this," Christopher said.

A helpful soul

Aidan wasn't your typical self-absorbed teenager. He felt a deep empathy for others.

"I think he felt deeper than most teenagers. He wanted other people to be happy," said Smart.

The first time she met Aidan, she was flipping burgers on a grill at an FFA kick-off BBQ in September when Aidan moseyed up to her.

"He said 'Can I help you? You look like you have your hands full,'" Smart recalled.

She left him to man the grill while she ran into the school to get the chips. Being helpful came second nature to Aidan.

"When he would finish his work early, he would come over to the greenhouse and help me plant flowers. He would always be asking 'What can I do to help you?'" Smart said.

That kindness extended to strangers.

"He'd see somebody sick at Walmart and call me up and say 'We need to pray now papaw,' and we'd pray over the phone, even though we had no idea who we were praying for," Greene recalled.

Aidan's third-grade teacher saw this same empathy.

"He was such a tender hearted kid. I can't think of one instance where he was unkind to another student," said Riverbend Elementary teacher Bill Reilly.

To his mom, Aidan's desire to help others became evident as a preschooler.

"When he was 4 years old, he decided he had to have a dress coat to go to church. He wanted to open the door for the ladies, and he'd escort them down the steps like a gentleman," Greene-Rusk said.

Aidan's helping nature was a universal theme among those who shared stories of him.

Anna Rowley, who lives next door to Aidan's papaw, said Aidan would often show up when they were doing yard work.

"If he saw us out there, he would offer us a helping hand. He would just come over and do things to help," Rowley said.

Aidan was like his mom in that respect. As a professional photographer, Greene-Rusk routinely lends her talents to good causes. This Christmas, when Deborah Reed (a.k.a. the Mrs. Claus behind Smoky Mountain Santa) organized a special Santa session for children with autism, she knew just who to call.

"Sabrina came three nights in a row and took a picture of every child to donate to each family," Reed said.

Aidan also had his mom's spirit.

"He was my dreamer. He had that same creative, dreaming spirit I do," Greene-Rusk said.

Greene-Rusk was often struck by the power of humanity seen through the eyes of her son. One day, Aidan tagged along on a photo shoot up on the Parkway for a Southern Appalachian Women project Greene-Rusk founded.

"Aidan steps in between me and the camera and the actress, and I keep calling to him to move, but he doesn't hear me. Another lady says 'Honey, you are in front of your mom. She's trying to take these photos.' He finally looks around and said 'Mom, I stepped inside a story,'" Greene-Rusk recalled.

Aidan found his place at Tuscola with FFA. He sought out FFA early in his freshman year, despite not being in any ag classes yet. And he loved FFA more than anything.

"It was a huge part of his identity," Smart said. "One day, he said 'I have something for you, Mrs. Smart. I made a Powerpoint to help recruit students to FFA.'"

Aidan even loved his blue corduroy FFA jacket, which was a rarity.

"No one really loves the jacket, because it is cold in the winter and hot in the summer. But he would say 'I love wearing this jacket because of what it stands for,'" Moody said.

In January, Aidan bounded into class all smiles after his birthday weekend.

"He was so excited to show me an FFA belt buckle he'd gotten as a birthday present," Moody recalled.

Tuscola Principal Casey Conard said grief counselors and support services are being provided to help any students and teachers navigate Aidan's loss.

"Aidan was a kind and loving student who made an enormous impact in a short time. He will be greatly missed," Conard said.

Appalachian boy thru and thru

There's nothing Aidan liked more than being outside.

"He's like his mom, he loves the outdoors. You couldn't keep him indoors," Greene-Rusk said.

If he was forced to stay in during bad weather, his favorite video game was a tractor simulator. One of his favorite hobbies was tinkering.

"He was always creating something. I would come outside and find a grill gate over some kind of thing he rigged up," his mom said. "I would always be saying 'Aidan, what have you done now?' I was always having to pull things apart."

One day, Greene-Rusk discovered a new blue cooler she'd bought had gone missing. Apparently, Aidan had seen a YouTube video on how to make a fog machine and decided to give it a try.

"I go outside and found my cooler rigged up with hoses and duct tape and this child had somehow rigged up a fog machine," she said. "He somehow made a crawfish catcher one time."

Aidan spent a lot of time on his grandparents' farm in Fines Creek, training coon dogs with his papaw and catching crawfish in the creek.

"Whatever I was doing he was right in the middle," Greene said. "And he loved to bring stuff he found to his granny — rocks or flowers of anything he thought granny might like. She has quart jars of stuff setting around here he brought her."

One day, Aidan spied a rock that must have been 30 pounds and decided granny had to have it.

"We were out fooling with our coon dogs, and I said, 'If you can get it in the game bag I'll carry it.' To be honest, I was hoping he wouldn't," Greene said. "Well, he outdone me. I carried that thing back home almost three miles."

In driver's ed at Tuscola, Aidan's instructor was surprised at what a good driver he was.

"He said 'Papaw, I didn't tell them you'd been letting me drive your Ford truck the last two or three years,'" Greene recalled.

Aidan took up the banjo like his papaw. His mom tried getting him lessons twice, but it didn't take. Instead, he learned by ear.

'He'd hear a song one time and here he'd go," Greene said. "Sometimes about 1 or 2 o'clock in the morning, I'd hear that banjo playing. I wouldn't say nothing to him, I'd just lay there and listen."

Despite his grief over his grandson, Greene plans to preach at Panther Creek Baptist this Sunday as always.

"Aidan wouldn't want it any other way," Greene said. "God has given me two to three different scriptures and I am going to open the Bible and let God take over. God will give me the strength, I know that."

Not too long ago, Aidan's great aunt recorded him playing a song on the banjo, which Greene plans to play during the service. Called 'Some Day,' Aidan's words on that recording will be his way of comforting those he left behind, just as he always sought to comfort those around him during his time on earth.

"And when my body is in the grave, don't think that I'll be there. I won't be dead, but living in the place Jesus went to prepare. And after all is said and done, know that my last earnest prayer, is that my loved ones be ready, someday to meet me there."

The Mountaineer was unable to coordinate an interview time with Aidan's father, Justin Hoglan, as of press time.