Eric Benner

Today, our baby turns 18.  The beautiful, kind, empathetic, funny (oh, so damn funny), sarcastic, SMART boy is now a young man, or on his path to become one.  He is going to do it HIS way and I don't know why I am still surprised by that, given that we helped make up his genetics, but darn it, once he carves his roadmap, he is sure stuck in the mud with it.  Again, a dichotomy that is ever present in this life, as his fortuitiveness can be the makings of greatness and an easy way to crash and burn, if not accompanied by maturity.  Knowing the Drew of the past 18 years, I look forward to watching his success blossom, once he gets out of his own way.  Sometimes, I wish I would have reread "Raising Sons", the book we poured through when he was so very small, for more guidance.  My way of parenting hasn't always been the "right" way, but it has been the way that was modeled for me, molded by me for the child, the situation, the personality, and updated by me, when I sought options and learned different ways and tried to be better.  Some may "out-parent" me, but not many will ever "out-try" me.  I certainly have done everything I could to be me, represent us, and keep "you" present.  But, I digress, as this post is really about our incredible son.  

Damn it if I don't miss that little boy and if looking back doesn't make bittersweet tears just fall...in a coffee shop, in another country.  So, here I sit, like many parents before me, on the cusp of a somewhat "final" transition, my last baby, the one that completed our circle, is leaving the nest.  With a pit in my stomach and tears in my eyes, I write this to you, as if somehow, you don't know and are expecting me to tell you.  I do it out of love, obligation, therapy and a perpetual search to somehow stay connected to you and gain some insight and understanding to this journey that is our life.

Today, we will celebrate in Jamaica.  Drew looks forward to this day as some sort of personal freedom into "adulthood", which in some ways, it is.  In more ways than not, the path to becoming a "man" is so very much greater than the age of one's birth.  For Drew, there were many ways that he had to "man-up" before his time due to losing you, his father, his influencer, his mentor.  His path became far rockier, as I had to become both mom and dad, and quite frankly, I just don't measure up in the male influence department.  He has been blessed with an incredible papa, the influences of amazing men, like Michael Benedetti, Craig & Darren, Uncle Tom, and, of course, Greg, along the way.  But, the harsh reality, is that none of them are you, which is the man he is looking for during his times of struggle, his celebrationsof joy and lately, on random days in between.  The mystery of who you would be, what your relationship would be like, etc., is a blessing and a curse and one that will live on forevermore for all of our kids, however it seems to be a more passionate point of contention for your son.  I get it......but it sure is painful.

Drew is amazing and I can say this with free abandon, despite the fact that I am currently a manifestation of all that he is missing, by not having you.  It's not his fault, your fault or even my fault....it just is.  I am the punching bag for being the parent that remains.  Don't get me wrong, Drew loves me and this family.  But, at 18, I am annoying and frustrating and who he pushes.  It is normal.  It is part of the process.  It just sucks.  I look forward to a time when he enjoys me, as his mom, again, yet, that time is likely a couple of years away.  He is worth it...all of it.  His potential is truly unlimited and I look forward to him seeing the person in the mirror that so many of us see.  A passionate beautiful soul, with so much to give to this world.  I look forward to him growing up enough to accept the realities of this life, while still pursuing the dreams of his passions.  I hope you always remain the hero of his heart, the "myth, the man, the legend", so to speak, despite it being both incredibly beautiful and undeniably hard.  As we always said, just because something is hard doesn't mean it is not worth it.  I wish your illness hadn't taken that from you and I pray that our children have somehow ingrained that in their hearts to help themselves, and others, during times of struggle.  There is so much to be learned from losing you, so much value to take away from the tragedy in an effort to do better, and so much pain along with that truth.  I saw this quote recently and think it is something I would like to leave for Drew today:

Strive to be a Warrior & a Scholar.
Be Forged in Fire & Tempered by Knowledge.
If not, you will
Lack the Courage to Fight for your Ideals
or Lack Ideals worth Fighting for!

Drew, like you, this quote is incredibly insightful and yet, blunt and forthright.  Embrace it.  Believe it.  LIVE it....you have all the capabilities to be anything you want, so strive to be the best version of yourself possible.  There is so much greatness in you.  I love you with every fiber of my being and there is nothing to stop you from fulfilling your dreams.  Soar, my baby bird, for you forever have a soft nest to return home to where Greg and I will be waiting.  I love you.  We love you.  For infinity.  

EHB - I prayed both last night, and this morning, for a sign (a rainbow with clouds would really help right now, just saying) or some guidance, for your son.  For your daughters.  For me.  We are forever looking for it....today, on the 18th year of his birth, he really would love it.  RIP.  You are forever missed.   

Today I was blessed to find this notecard. It's hard to read, and very worn, but it means more to me than words can say. I was cleaning up my garage and stumbled on this in a box of keepsakes. It's a note from my dad - wrinkled and soaked in sunscreen after keeping it in my softball bag for so long... it reads:

"Chase your dreams and have fun.
-
Softball advice: stay tall and balanced, push hard through each pitch.
-
Life advice: be confident! There's nobody better.
-
Dad advice: I love you always, no matter what"

♥️ Needless to say I started bawling. As much as these little notes hurt not having you here, the reminder of your love is truly a blessing. I love you and miss you always daddy. Thank you for this little message today.

The calm before the storm....I look back and this is how I view Italy.  A beautiful, perfect calm.  Who knew coming home meant walking into a frenzied whirlwind.  It has been a brutal three weeks.  Emotions I have not felt since your death threated to permeate the cracks permanently affixed with your name on them.  Hard times happen - I get that - they are often just called "life".  Hard times that literally take your breath away, bring fear of what tomorrow will look like, cause unshed tears to temporarily blind ones eyes and threaten to break apart your world....yeah, I have been on the cusp.  What makes my world stay on the cusp to face the storm head-on and yours ripped apart at the seams?  I will never understand it.  I will forever ask the same questions over and over.  Tears that remain unshed, and those that stain my face, are forever generated by the insanity of it all. 

I sit here today numb, internally a bit broken and also incredibly thankful that the bad things our family is facing are not worse.  I am so incredibly thankful for papa's cancer, because as aggressive as it it, it hasn't spread and prognosis is good.  I have faced the fears and tears of our children and I spoke the truth of his illness.  I cannot and will not hide this truth from them like I did with you.  I can't.  It breaks me into pieces....and yet, for papa, I honored his wishes and kept it all inside until we knew exactly what we were facing.  It is the best that we could hope for after finding out the worst....ok, not the worst....you provided the worst, so anything else is simply less than, thus far.  I do pray I never have to face the worst again...I am stronger than I knew, but not strong enough for that.

Anyway, I sit here in a fog, with so much I needed to say and nothing clear to formualte proper thought.  I'm sick (thank you Strep), exhausted, emotionally spent and just plain sad.  Yet, tomorrow will be better.  Hell, a few hours from now will be better than right now.  Why do I get that rebound or reprieve?  Why couldn't you?  Why can't others?  I hate the disease of depression more than I can articulate for everything it robs one of, for all that it manipulates, for the brokenness it causes. 

Once agian, I feel guilty for this outlet.  I can rage here, I can say all the things I have wanted to scream for the past few weeks (sometimes for the past few years), I can let it all come out and then I can heal.  Or, at least, mend.  Right now, there are a bunch of cracks that need to heal.  A rainbow after the storm that I need to see.  A little brightness to the darkened skies.  I want sunshine and rainbows and a yellow brick road for our kids.  You have taught me that what we want doesn't always happen, sometimes what we need evades us.  You taught me that and yet, I fight it.  I do not accept it.  I can't, even still.  Good times follow bad; light follows darkness and good conquers evil.  That is the world I want to live in, the one I want for our children and the one I continue to fight for.  Naive (yes, I know, your favorite word for me)?  Maybe.  But maybe, just maybe, it is my naivete that allows for hope.  So, hope it is.  For papa and mama, for our children, for me, this country and our world.  HOPE...forevermore.

RIP EHB....thanks for letting me vent.

Wen

I sit here, staring at the blinking cursor, wondering what to write and why, once again, I am here looking for insight and answers. As usual, it is because of something going on with our children, whom I love more than life itself, and all I can find for an answer is that damn cursor blinking madly on my screen.

At different times, under different circumstances, without even logical "reasoning", everyone goes through hard times.  This is a basic truth, and yet, when it is happening to one of our children, I don't often see it is basic, at all.  I hurt alongside them, rage at the "injustice", struggle to "understand", pray to "fix", and always "compare" to you.  It is so unfair to them and unfair to me.  But, it is my reality. 

From your disease and death, there is an underlying fear in me, for those I love, that never leaves.  Maybe it is normal, or at least expected.  Maybe.  Either way, it sucks.

Just needed to vent.  At you.  To you. 

With a heavy heart, sprinkled with the combination of sadness, anger and grief, and dusted with brutal honestly, I leave the blinking cursor until another day.

Wen

Wow, I just realized how long it has been since I last wrote on here.  Crazy, to me actually.  It's not like you are not a part of a memory or conversation most days, but my driving force to write to you, to grieve here, to connect somehow, is not the same as it has been for the past five plus years.  I am not dumb enough to think this is "a thing", a "sign" or some new normal, since the minute I assume anything with regards to you, the grief associated with your loss, or anything else about this journey, I know I will be proven wrong. 

So, I just am sitting here surprised.  I think I am especially surprised becuase while in Italy, visiting your little girl (who is not so little anymore, just saying), I had a dream about you.  Not a sad dream or even a memory dream, but some randomly weird dream, where you were alive and some version of the "old you";  I assume we both worked for Bill, but that is an assumption because all I remember was that you wanted to go back and work at Draeger, for John (no other Draeger was involved).  In my dream you wanted to go back there because it felt right.  I think you did.  I don't really remember.  I just knew I woke up and thought that was so weird.  Then, my "rational, awake" mind wanted answers...how could you go back there? How would that have worked? I would still be working with Bill.  We would be working in the same field, with competetive companies, yet there was no feeling of resentment or confusion, just contentment that you were walking your path, I was walking mine and somehow, it worked.  Then, a bit more reality kicked in.  Wait, there is no Draeger.  Wait, Eric isn't here.  Ok....wait, I didn't dream of him gone, as in the past, but of him present, working along side me, but not with me.  Hmmmm....see, I wrote that it was weird. 

The dream faded from memory, I went back to sleep, awoke to the real world, where Greg and I, along with mom and papa, were in Italy, visiting Madi, who, while forever your little girl, is our big girl and we went along our day.  Aside from pondering the dream (and my weird transitions mentioned above) when I briefly awoke, I didn't talk about it, nor even remember it until today.  Jet-lagged, sleep deprieved, but somehow energized and so incredibly grateful for the trip, this life we live (with all it's ups and downs), my work, our children.....everything.  This is when you came to mind and when I thought how long it has been since I "talked" to you, which is always how I view what I do here.

Anyway, I logged on, and thought of that dream and realized that the way I felt in that dream is kind of how I feel now, living in this moment, raising our children, living this life.  Random, I know, and sort of "weird" like that dream. In the very brutal, real world, you are not present, nor a part of raising our children and working this life.  I don't do it alongside you anymore, in a physical sense.  We are separate and separated, but somehow I believe we walk a parrallel path, coexisting in different planes and "you" still remain.  Your memories, the loss our children still feel, and always will, the impact you made on those that loved you and the pain still associated with everything gone so terribly wrong....those parts of your story will forever be present.  It is our truth and I believe it is because you mattered so damn much. 

AND (I use that word now, instead of BUT, because it allows for both things I am saying to be true, without minimizing or negating either conceptually opposing viewpoint - wow, look at me; thank you therapy!)...sorry, I digressed. 

AND, at the same time, while we will forever be grieving, we are also growing.  Our children are not just ours anymore.  They are Greg's, too.  They have two bonus sisters.  They have other grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins.  They have more people to love and more people to love them.  They have good days and really crappy days.  They stuggle, fall down and fight back to excel.  They are growing up.  They are amazing.  They are incredible.  They are complete pains in the butt.  They are perfectly human, perfectly flawed and PERFECT, to me.  They are both EVERYTHING I could have wished for, and NOTHING like I imagined, and that, in itself, is so damn cool.  They are THRIVING, even with imperfections.  They have so much more to learn and discover and absorb.  They walk along side your memory, as do I, no longer stuggling to keep you "present", but accepting of the weirdness of your loss and all that has happened since then.  There will forever be an Eric size hole in the heart of so many, however as time often does, it has brought some healing.  The scar on our hearts will last forevermore, but maybe that is the point.  Scars remind you of your both the injury and the healing; a visible reminder of pain one often cannot see. 

Anyways, I just wanted you to know that while that dream was sill weird, so is this darn life, and that is ok.  I will take the weird, along with everything else, and fight for the best that each day can bring.  I hope you are doing the same, wherever you are, and I hope you somehow continue to walk alongside us, in whatever form that takes. 

With love,

Wen