By AARON MANAGHAN

Sports editor

Snow and its accompanying deafening silence have always had a strange way of provoking thought, at least for me.

Snowy walks during winter months have always been something I’ve enjoyed, from growing up near Spokane, playing in piles taller than I was, to living in Silverdale now, where the smallest ground cover sends everyone into panic mode.

And while it was a long walk for me and many others Saturday down the narrow exit halls of Crosby Chapel, upon stepping outside following the memorial service for Jerid Sturman-Camyn, who was tragically killed last week at an Eastern Washington campground, I had an even longer walk back to my car, parked several hundred feet away from the chapel. With about 3 inches of snow falling during the service, I began to reflect, whether I wanted to or not, on not only a life lost too soon but also on the service that had just concluded.

Following the heartfelt tributes to Jerid’s life made by those who knew him most intimately throughout his 20 years, I was chatting with Linda Moen, mother of former Klahowya wrestler, football and lacrosse player CJ Moen, a teammate of Jerid’s.

We were sharing our thoughts following the emotional service about how sad it is that it takes a tragedy like this to bring so many people together.

While at the time I agreed, the more I thought about it on the snowy walk (and even longer snowy drive) back, I realized this wasn’t entirely true.

The reason seemed so simple. I thought it should have come to me sooner. Because in this realization came the way I’ll likely remember Jerid first and foremost for the rest of my days on this earth.

Yes, it was indeed sad that it took Jerid’s tragic death to pull a community together. It’s entirely true that the hundreds of people who turned out for the service Saturday had never been assembled under one roof at the same time in the past. And it’s all too likely that this specific group will never be together under one roof at the same time again in the future.

But rather than sadness, I now see how special that really is.

I knew many people at the service, but certainly far less than half overall. For every former athlete or coach I’d covered, parent I’d chatted with or any number of others I’ve come to know in my time here, there were at least three more people I’d not met, had never seen before and by and large, likely will never see again.

But we all had one thing in common. Every single person attending the packed Crosby Chapel had a connection to one another.

Whether through a lifetime spent as a son or brother, or simply knowing him in a moment of passing, Jerid Sturman-Camyn made a deep impact on each of us. Undoubtedly, there were hundreds of more people who were unable to attend for whatever reason. What, or rather who, else could assemble such a wide variety of people?

As Bob Zornes reflected on Jerid’s athletic-tape racing stripes on his truck, to his son Zac Becker’s remembrance of some of their “boys will be boys” tales of personal growth and discovery of life, I too remembered Jerid.

I remembered covering the Klahowya football team on a rainy Friday in Elma, the Eagles’ first state berth. Jerid was all over the place, recording 12 tackles, three sacks and a fumble recovery. And while that game would mark his final high school game, I remember a smile on his face at what the team had accomplished that fall.

While it was his final football game, the thing I remember most was his enthusiasm for the next group of Eagles to pick up where he and his counterparts had left off.

“Every day we teach the younger kids what we know,” he said after the game, going on about how fun it was to watch his young teammates acquire new skills.

It was more of the same come his senior wrestling season. Even after falling in the 2A state title match at 189 pounds his senior year in a match featuring some questionable calls, he was all smiles.

“I’ll remember a lot of good times,” Jerid said after walking off the mats for the final time. “It was a fun ride along the way.”

That was who Jerid was — a fun-loving kid with a huge heart, always wanting to see the team, or even just his individual teammates, succeed before wishing the same success for himself.

While there’s still many questions to be answered before closure can begin for friends and family, the service went a long way in the healing process.

After all, it’s not every day hundreds of people come together for one reason only.

That’s how I’ll remember Jerid; not as he’s being portrayed now in the media, and not even as the athlete I knew him as first and foremost. I’ll remember him as the person who had the ability to touch hundreds of people in a genuine way, as only someone nicknamed Bubba could.