How do you begin to tell the story of a person’s life? Or even, just talk about your little brother when we’re all still hurting so much? In trying to figure out where to start, I reached out to people I knew were close to him. Sharing our feelings and stories, laughing and crying and remembering Ryan together was cathartic for me. And I hope for them. I hope sharing some of what they had to say about my brother brings some comfort to you too.
Ryan was the youngest of the now infamous five Barraclough kids. He was preceded by some pretty big personalities who my parents called Beppy Boo, Lissy Toes, Georgie Porgy, and Beanie… then came our lil chonkers – The Ryan Dude. Looking back on it now, being number five in this group could’ve been overwhelming, but I think it brought out one of the best parts of Ryan’s personality. Something everyone mentions now that we’re all sharing our memories - Ryan was just chill. He had a warm and soothing presence about him that everybody enjoyed being near.
I’d like to read a word from Ryan’s childhood friends (Shane, David, and Scottie) written by Shane.
"The first words that come to mind when we think of Ryan....dynamic and unique. His love for his family and friends was beyond genuine and his humor and wit were unmatched. Ryan had so many talents....whether it was skateboarding, music, football, wrestling, or video games. But his best talent was being a good, understanding friend.
Ryan just had a way about him. So unassuming and nonjudgmental, you couldn’t help but be yourself when you were around him. One of the traits we all admired in Ryan was his temperament. His poise and even-keeled personality were a pleasure to be around.
My favorite and most vivid memory of Ryan happened to be my very first encounter with him. At about the age of 5, my siblings and I went over to the Barraclough house for the first time and Ryan was playing Nintendo. In a very caring, Ryan kind of way he asked, “Want to play my game?”. Naturally, I obliged.
Now I can’t remember what game we played or how long we played for, but to this day I remember how I felt: welcomed, accepted, and genuinely liked. Similar events occurred when Scottie moved to Hainesport shortly after and then again when David moved to town. The four of us shared a childhood that will never be forgotten.
While life has pulled us in many directions, the days of side yard football, Mr. Worm, playing video games, swimming in the pool, or just being mischievous little boys will always remain special in our hearts.
To the Barraclough family.... You are not just our friends, you are family. Any time we see any of you we know that we are in for a good conversation and a hearty laugh. Please know that we are here for you.
Ryan, our dear friend.... You had an incredible impact on all of us and you will be sorely missed. You touched us all in a way that was beyond special and we are grateful for the time we had with you.
We love you. Rest In Peace, friend.”
It makes so much sense to me that Ryan banded together with these childhood musketeers to become solid lifelong friends. Creating a welcoming feeling of family all around him is something people were always drawn to.
But I will say as an adult, at times he seemed a little lost, almost like he was wandering. I think that changed when he met Melody. I remember the first time I saw them together, you could tell something had shifted. He radiated contentment. That sly smile never left his face. They just seemed to resonate with one another. I believe that in her he had finally found his home. I’ve spoken a bit with her lately, and I’ll share with you something she told me:
“I just want everyone to know that Ryan was the best person I ever met. That he changed my life forever and allowed me to feel like myself for the first time in a really long time. He showed me what’s important in life and how to appreciate what we have. He inspired me every single day. And our love was the realest and most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced in my lifetime.”
We are grateful to you, Melody, for bringing such joy to Ryan’s life, and that together you did so much living in the time you had. It is so plain to see how much you loved one another and that you belonged together. You are part of all of us now and we are so fortunate to have you.
So I’ve also been talking with family, and my Dad has been telling this story of a Science Fair Project that Ryan did. It involves creating wind-powered vehicles that were to travel the length of the school gym. Of course Ryan’s entry was very different than the others, and my dad was skeptical of his out-of-the-box design. But Ryan was confident, and told my dad, “I’ve got this.” His wasn’t the fastest, but kept a slow-and-steady pace, and while others veered off course, Ryan’s tortoise in the race finished second. The magic of this story isn’t that Ryan brought to life another vision that was just so “Ryan”, and of course it worked; it’s in the way my dad tells it. You can hear the pride in his voice when talking about Ryan’s quirky resourcefulness and you know how special he thinks that is. I’m sure we all have similar stories of Ryan’s particular skill in bringing his imagination to life.
Now Ryan is a lot like my mother, so sweet and sentimental. He would always give her the stickers off of his fruit, and she would save them all. He’d pick out the tiniest grapes because they were the “babies” and she’d keep them on the kitchen windowsill. Those two were peas in a pod. But the resourcefulness likely comes mostly from Mr. MacGyver himself, my dad. And the quirky is definitely a combination of both my parents. The “lightning and love” chemistry they had created a brood of crazy and caring people, who live, love, fight, and laugh together with a fierceness unique to the Barracloughs. And when it came to their littlest guy, it seems practice makes perfect. They took all the best parts of the rest and funneled them into one person.
Our Ryan.
One of the most giving, humble, creative, hilarious, unforgettable and special people I have ever known. And I am lucky enough to call him my brother.
