Jared Giddings was a master communicator.
He didn't need words to convey his thoughts, feelings, opinions and the frequent sly joke. He said it all with his expressive eyes and wide smile, a turn of his head and the arch of his back, a primal vocalization and an intense stare.
Giddings had cerebral palsy, but the neurological disorder didn't have him.
At 22, Giddings was entering a different phase in his life, one that included new friends, increased opportunities and added responsibilities, when an ailment — likely a virus — overpowered his immune system. Giddings died unexpectedly Aug. 31.
At his memorial Wednesday, more than 200 people turned out to remember the young man who lived a life without limits.
"He had this amazing smile and love of life that just drew me to him. It was like we'd known each other our whole lives," said Kirsten Tkachyk, 22, who met Giddings when they were in first grade together and remained close friends.
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Her mother, Jean Tkachyk, remembers the special bond they formed as youngsters.
"When she was little in the first grade, she would sit on the floor during reading time. Jared could get out of his (wheel)chair and lay on the floor if someone held him. That's a fond memory of mine, seeing Jared sit in Kirsten's lap as she held him," Jean Tkachyk said. "They both thought the world of each other."
Eventually, the pair became more like kin, spending holidays together, trick-or-treating and sharing in each other's family traditions. As they grew older, the friends took trips to the mall, went to movies, played jokes on each other and hung out.
"Jared and I just had this connection where we could read each other," Kirsten Tkachyk said. "He knew how I was feeling and I knew how he was feeling and we just got along really well. He had this smile that could melt your heart and make you feel you were the most important person in his life. He had this aura about him that gave off so much excitement."
Tkachyk is an education major at the University of Arizona, and, inspired by her friend, is considering becoming a special-education teacher.
"I've grown up seeing Jared struggle with certain things — equipment and communication systems — and I've also seen him have so much success with other things. It would be such a rewarding career to pursue," she said.
Giddings' determination and confidence in large part are a credit to his parents, Lynda Langlois and Charlie Giddings. Though divorced, the parents each gave their son experiences and opportunities far beyond what his wheelchair might have allowed.
His mother, an artist and Jared's primary caregiver, took him skating, skiing and bowling, held him steady as he painted and went with him when he played in Special Olympics golf tournaments. "Jared was this guy on the go," she said.
Each summer, his father took Jared, the youngest of his three children, on family vacations to San Diego, where Jared spent his days lying on the beach making sand castles, taking strolls on the boardwalk and visiting the zoo and the marine park. Back in Tucson, father and son spent time splashing in the backyard pool, puttering in the garden and, at Jared's insistence, dining at Hooters.
For years, Jared Giddings went to summer camp at the Jewish Community Center, and, after graduating from Catalina Foothills High School, he recently joined the JCC's day program, where he was responsible for distributing the mats before yoga class.
He enjoyed listening to reggae music, watching action and horror movies, meeting girls, people-watching, raising desert tortoises for a zoo program, and playing his keyboard, a high school graduation gift from a family friend, musician John Tesh.
"His mom and other members of his family tried to make him feel like he was just an ordinary guy," said Jean Tkachyk. "Being ordinary, to him, was a great feeling. He was one of the guys."
Special-education teacher Jennifer Grube, who now lives in Las Vegas, worked with Giddings when he was in middle school and for his first year of high school. She found him bright, funny and charismatic.
"Jared was an extraordinary young man. He just lit up the room. You couldn't look at Jared and not smile," she said. "Even though he wasn't able to communicate with words, he communicated in other ways. His intense stare, his vocalizations told us if he was happy or unhappy; his facial expressions told you everything. If you knew Jared well enough, you could read him."
His easygoing nature made Giddings the perfect teacher for Stephanie MacFarland's, students. She teaches at UA's department of disability and psychoeducational studies in the College of Education. MacFarland first met Giddings when he was in elementary school and she was supervising the student teachers in his classroom.
"He was the best teacher for them as they were going through their teacher preparation," she said. "He was an extraordinary young man. He didn't use speech to communicate. He used a lot of vocal expression and body language, so for my up-and-coming teachers to learn how to communicate with him was a wonderful opportunity."
To enhance his communication skills, Giddings and his parents tried a number of assistive technologies, but none had yet proved compatible with his physical abilities. In October they planned to test another system that his father was optimistic about.
Early on, Charlie Giddings was concerned that cerebral palsy would cause his son to miss out on so much in life — always sitting on the sidelines while other kids ran, played, kicked around a soccer ball — but Jared proved him wrong.
"He was the happiest guy I knew," his father said. "He would be happy because he could see the other kids being happy.
"Everybody talked about his smile because that was the thing that kind of drew you in when you first met him. He was very flirtatious and just had a way with the ladies.
"You'd never think a guy who couldn't speak and had his limitations could touch so many people's lives," his father said.
Indeed, Jared Giddings' reach was far greater than his parents realize, said Grube.
"He did a lot more for others than he or his family will ever know," she said. "He really made a lasting impression on a whole bunch of people."
the series
This feature chronicles the lives of recently deceased Tucsonans. Some were well-known across the community. Others had an impact on a smaller sphere of friends, family and acquaintances. Many of these people led interesting — and sometimes extraordinary — lives with little or no fanfare. Now you'll hear their stories.
On StarNet
Did you know Jarad Giddings? Add your remembrance to this article online at azstarnet.com/ lifestories

