Aaron Anthony "Goose" McArthur
July 3, 1992 – September 8, 2025
Aaron was born in Butte, Montana, on the day of the fireworks—a fitting beginning for someone who would bring so much light, laughter, and love into the lives of those around him.
He grew into an extraordinary young man known for his kindness, compassion, adventurous spirit, intelligence, and enormous heart. He loved deeply, laughed often, and never hesitated to help someone in need.
To his family, he was much more than "Goose."
He was a beloved son, a protective brother, a loyal friend, and someone whose presence made people feel welcomed, valued, and loved.
Aaron Lived Life:
Aaron loved life and filled it with adventure, laughter, kindness, and the people and animals he cared about most.
Some of his happiest memories were attending Denver Broncos games with family and playing basketball with friends, family, or anyone willing to join a game. Winning was never what mattered most to Aaron—it was being together, laughing, competing, and enjoying the moment.
One of Aaron's greatest joys was spending time with his dogs. He loved riding his bike with them running alongside him or taking them for long walks. His dogs were family, and he had a special love and compassion for animals. He treated every animal he met with gentleness, patience, and unconditional love.
Aaron was naturally athletic, exceptionally intelligent, and always ready for another adventure. He loved riding and jumping motorbikes, snowboarding, skateboarding, dancing, playing football, ice hockey, beach volleyball, visiting theme parks, spending time at the ocean, and cheering on the Denver Broncos and Colorado Rockies.
Aaron had an exceptionally curious and analytical mind. He loved asking questions, researching topics that interested him, and thinking deeply about the world around him. Whether he was exploring history, science, or life's great mysteries, he was never afraid to ask, "What if?" Sometimes Aaron talked right over my head because he was so intelligent, yet he always enjoyed sharing what he had learned and encouraging others to look at things from a different perspective.
More than anything, Aaron loved helping others and making people smile. He had a gentle spirit and remarkable patience. Even when others became angry or raised their voices, Aaron remained calm. He listened, spoke with kindness, and had a way of helping people feel heard and understood. He rarely raised his own voice because that simply wasn't who he was.
Aaron had a generous heart. Whether he was caring for his dogs, helping his family, comforting a friend, or simply listening, he made people feel seen, valued, and loved. His kindness, compassion, patience, and contagious smile are what those who knew him remember most.
His smile, his laugh, his hugs, the way he always said, "I love you," and the words, "You're a good mom," are memories I will carry with me forever.
After the death of his stepfather, Aaron became much more than an older brother.
Although he was still a teenager himself, he stepped into a fatherly role for his younger sisters while helping support me through one of the most difficult periods of our family's life.
He loved his sisters deeply and never hesitated to put family first.
That quiet strength, compassion, and sense of responsibility are part of the legacy he leaves behind.
"The world didn't lose someone defined by addiction. It lost a son, a brother, a friend, an animal lover, an athlete, and a young man who made people smile."
One of the greatest misconceptions about addiction is that people do not want help.
Aaron did.
He wanted his life back.
He had begun trying to stop using drugs and told me,
"Mom, I can do this."
Not long before we lost Aaron, he sat down with his father and me and shared something that took tremendous courage. He told us he was embarrassed and deeply sorry for some of the things he had done while struggling with addiction. He said he knew we had raised him better than that, and he wished none of it had ever happened.
We told him we knew exactly who he was. We knew addiction was not the person we had raised. We told him we loved him, believed in him, and were excited to see him become healthy again. We reminded him that every person makes mistakes and that God's love does not disappear because we fall. Just as God loves us through our imperfections, our love for Aaron had never changed and never would.
Aaron wanted to rebuild his life.
I told him that if he got better, he could move back home with me, and together we would help him rebuild his future.
He called me and told me how sick he felt and how difficult withdrawal had become.
We made a plan.
On Monday morning, I was going to take him to the hospital myself. I wanted to be there to make sure he received the care he needed. From there, our plan was for him to enter treatment, begin recovery, and continue on to rehabilitation.
We never made it to Monday morning.
Aaron died just a few hours before we were supposed to leave for the hospital.
I often think about how close we were.
His story reminds me every day that withdrawal can be overwhelming, that recovery often requires medical support, and that we cannot assume there will always be another tomorrow.
That is why the GOOSE Foundation works so hard to educate families, reduce stigma, and encourage people to seek help as early as possible.
Aaron's life continues through:
The GOOSE Foundation
Whispers of Names
Aaron the Goose Book Series
Education
Awareness
Recovery Support
His story continues changing lives.
“I believed it couldn’t happen to my family. I was wrong. If sharing Aaron’s story helps even one family start a conversation that saves a life, then his legacy will continue to make a difference.”
GOOSE Foundation
Grieve Openly. Overcome Stigma. Embrace help.
Every Life Matters.
Every Name Matters.
Every Family Matters.