Tyler County turned out to honor one of its sons in posthumous praise, tears and honesty.

Sgt. Jesse Adams Ault’s life, which ended April 9 when he was killed in Iraq while serving his country, was painted as a simple boy turned G.I. Joe who used Lynard Skynard for a soundtrack, NASCAR as his philosophy and metaphorically and proudly wore the buckskin of West Virginia University’s mascot during his short 28 years on earth.

One by one, friends and family remembered Ault’s life through a tapestry of words, sometimes catching in a throat as bittersweet memories unfolded, but as his brother, Drew Ault, ended the line of speakers, he asked that his brother not be remembered with tears, but smiles like the ones he brought to all who knew him.

“He went out with a bang and he went out doing what he needed for his family,” Drew Ault said. “I’m trying to keep as positive as I can. He wouldn’t want everybody moping around.”

Referring to his earlier reference to the chapters of Jesse Ault’s life, Drew Ault acknowledged his sorrow that their chapter together had come to a close.

“This is incredibly difficult for me. He was my only sibling. I was looking forward to the fourth chapter in his life – growing up and experiencing each other as a family. I’m really sorry that’s not going to happen,” he said.

Jesse Ault was honored in song and invocation by Katie Orlofske and uncle Tim Ault before he led the memorial service. Angie Smith read a poem in honor of the fallen soldier.

“It’s pretty tough to say something that hasn’t already been said,” Tim Ault began, so, he used the words of others who have inundated parents Ron Ault and Virginia “Ginny” Billiter with cards and letters expressing their sorrow for the loss of Jesse Ault.

Tim Ault also shared a personal story of how his nephew’s life, and death, touched those outside his sphere of influence.

On April 14, at 6 a.m., Tim Ault found himself sitting in an airport chair waiting for the boarding call. “It had been a very long weekend. It was the weekend after I knew what happened to Jesse and I was sitting there probably looking like I’d been run over by a steamroller,” he said.

A kindly worker took notice of Tim Ault’s condition and offered to take his ticket. When she returned she told him that he looked like he could use a nap and told him his original ticket had been exchanged to allow him a row to himself to stretch out in for a nap.

Shortly after taking his seat and beginning to nod, Tim Ault said he was rudely awakened by the intercom seeking a “Mr. Aloot.” After several minutes of announcements, he said he peeked over the back of the seat hoping to see the trouble maker only to hear the proper pronunciation of the name, “Mr. Ault.”

“She looked at the paper again and as I raised my hand, all expression left her face. I’ll never forget it. She came up and asked if I was related to Jesse Ault that she had read so much about on the Internet,” he said.

Tim Ault learned she had a son currently serving in Iraq and feared for his safety. After the short exchange, she went forward for pre-take off instructions, but before the tires left the tarmac, she made an announcement.

“A voice came over the intercom and it was the flight attendant. She told everybody that there was a very special passenger on board and they should recognize me and Jesse. The plane began to clap,” he said.

The accolades were followed by another voice.

“As I sat in my lonely row, I looked around and everybody was standing. I didn’t know a one of them,” Tim Ault said. “Then, I heard a little voice and it was Jesse’s. He said they better sit down or we’re not going anywhere.”

The uncle finished his anecdotes by characterizing his nephew as “happy-go-lucky.

“He was not intimidated by life. I packed a lifetime of adventure into 28 years,” he said. Then, pointing the section reserved for Jesse Ault’s friends, said, “I can see people over here nodding because you were part of that.”

For Sam Lemasters, her friend’s death is linked to the day she watched her friends leave for boot camp.

“I watched them get in the car and kept watching till they were out of sight,” she said. “I thought I might never see them again. I always dreaded the thought I might get a phone call saying something had happened to one of them. It did.

“It’s said you always know where you were on 9/11. This is the same for me. I’ll never forget where I was when I got the phone call about Jesse,” Lemasters said.

As friends and family tried to comfort her, Lemasters knew the only remedy was to be with the people who “loved Jesse as much as I did.”

When that time came, there was still a feeling of incompleteness.

“Even though that had to wait for a while, I got that comfort,” she said. “Even though we were all in Virginia (for the funeral), for some reason it felt like there was something missing. It was Jesse. This was the first time we were all together without him.”

She began to grieve on a new level, knowing that her friend will now miss the joy of fatherhood, having a son, Adam who is 15-months old, and a daughter, Rachel, born Jan. 17. He is also the step-father of his wife’s, Sarah Elizabeth “Betsy” Ault, son, Nathan, 10.

“He was just about to start a new chapter of life, the daddy chapter,” she said.

And, though her friend can longer be with her, Lemasters said he showed her how easy life and the blessings bestowed upon people can be taken for granted.

Travis Russell and Jesse Ault entered the Army on the Buddy Plan, but became friends when the transplant first moved to Middlebourne.

“Jesse was my best friend and fellow soldier. He and I met in the sixth grade when Jesse moved to Middlebourne. Jesse fit in right away,” Russell said.

The two shared a love of sports and the outdoors, with Russell accompanying the male Aults to the mountains for fishing.

“We never put much of a dent in the trout population. I think we caught more memories than anything else,” he said.

“He was only here 28 years, but it was a jam-packed 28 years. He lived his life wide open. It was an honor to have served beside him in uniform.”

Drew Ault took the audience back further, to their childhood together.

“Where we first lived, there was nothing there. It forced us to grow up together or grow up alone,” he said. “We were so different, but so close.”

He likened their life together as book chapters: pre-high school, high school and post high school, the latter being his favorite period together. As the left Middlebourne, they learned what life had to offer each of them and it allowed them to grow together.

“Growing up, I knew right away Jesse was the kind of person I wanted to be. He was fearless,” Drew Ault said. “I wish I had the courage to be as fearless as he is — as he was. He was happy all the time because he did what he wanted. This whole thing has given me the strength to make some decisions.”

He has also come to the realization that he must take the lead with the nephews and niece that are left behind.

“I will be there for his family and I will. I’m the closest physical link to a father they will know. I never thought I would ever be in a position like this, but those kids will know who there dad was,” he said. “You didn’t meet with him, you experienced him.

“It’s a cruel world. We all know that. It doesn’t do anything to just hang your head. We’ve got to go on.”

In closing, Jesse Ault’s passion for Jeff Gordon and the Mountaineers was epitomized by father and uncle who agreed with Drew Ault’s summation that Jesse Ault would want those gathered to remember life is short is and should be lived to its fullest and most comfortable as they disrobed to the No. 24 and blue and gold T-shirts they had secreted beneath their jackets and ties.

Tim Ault said a donation has been made in memory of Jesse Ault to the Jeff Gordon Foundation.

Members of VFW Post No. 6327 and American Legion Post No. 67, both of Sistersville, and American Legion Post No. 15 of Parkersburg conducted a flag ceremony and presented the stars and stripes to his parents as taps resonated throughout the Tyler Consolidated auditorium.