Eric Benner

UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have thought about writing for the last few days.  Thought and thought and thought.  Honestly, I do not know what to say.  Other than....this time it is a CHILD.  A baby, with his whole life ahead of him.  A life that he could not fathom living.  Anything worse than facing another day. 

My brain immediately went to "why", "what could possibly be so bad in our little bubble that this was the answer", "why could he not see the future"...all the "normal", uninformed, lack of understanding questions.  And then, there was you...always you.  The haunting, ominous signs I could not see, nor understand back then.  The ones I cannot really fathom or understand today.  The chilling answer you gave to me one day when I simply asked how you could not look forward to walking your girls down the aisle.  The truth that ultimately took your life.  When the thought of how you are simply going to get to the end of the day, when the sanctuary of sleep (if it ever comes), will remove you from thought and feelings and reality, is the only thing you can focus on, how on earth can you look "forward" to a wedding.  You can't look forward to anything, except something that ceases all feeling.  At the time, that was sleep.  THAT was your answer. In reality, it became our eternity.  I hate this fact.  I hate this truth.  I HATE DEPRESSION.  Yet, I, like so many others, are helpless in it. 

Your daughter's reaction was similar.  Kk, that is.  She wants to do something.  ANYthing, just so someone else doesn't have to go through this.  So someone else's family doesn't catch their breath every time another suicide occurs.  I want to do something.  I wanted to back then, I tried desperately, and yet, if there was an answer, I think someone way smarter, more knowledgeable, more trained would have done "it".  HOW do we fix this horrific tragedy?  WHY, WHY, WHY, does it seem this is an epidemic? The horrific circle of questions of the suicide survivors' families. 

Madi was able to semi-avoid it....just due to proximity and college starting up again.  Drew....oh, Drew, not so much.  He is a good friend, "big bro" in essence, to two of this poor boy's best friends.  So, he has shown UP, talked, walked and been there for them.  Impressive, for sure.  A lot to take on and tackle at 17, absolutely.  I hate it....have I said that enough?

So, I write.  I rant, rage, cry, vent.  In the hopes that it helps someone else.  I know it helps me.  I believe it helps the kids...regardless of what they choose to read, they know I keep you present in this space.  I have been touched (and oh, so honored), to know it has helped a couple people in their darkest hours.  That alone is worth every word.  BUT...I want it to reach others.  I want it to spark something deep inside someone, anyone, who thinks like you did.  I want it to create a glimmer of hope or fear or sadness or guilt.....something that makes them TALK to someone before it is too late. 


RIP EHB....always

Suicide Prevention Hotline 1-888-233-0228
PSA.....If YOU or ANYONE you know is struggling, reach out PLEASE, I BEG OF YOU.  To me via lighting a candle (even if I am a complete stranger to some who visits this page), to a friend, to family, to a counselor, to ANYONE.  You matter so much more than you can ever fathom AND it can get better, but NOT if you aren't here.

I sit here, hanging with Madi Moo, awaiting news.  TOTALLY DIFFERENT NEWS.  But still...parrallels.  I write this not to be overly dramatic, nor compare what I am going through now, with what we went through then.  However, the way our mind works (or maybe more accurately, the way MY mind works), random situations can become triggers to the past.  Currently, this is where I am at....something from the last few days has "triggered" memories of the past.  Perhaps it is a combination of the unknown and waiting that reminds me;  I cannot honestly say. 

Today, my reason for writing is twofold.  One is because I find this website a safe way to stay connected to you...I used to come here and rant and rave, emote or just because you were in the forefront of my mind.  Now a days, thoughts of you are more fleeting.  Less often, if I am honest.  And, sometimes, weirdly more emotional.  My other main reason for writing is more cerebrally internal...I am searching for what to say and how to say it.  I am sure the second reason shocks you, as much as it shocks me.  I have only been unable to formulate what I wanted to say was immediately following your death...however, when the words needed to come, they ran amuck.  I am hoping they do that once again.

So, here goes nothing....or hopefully, something!  I sit here at home, on what feels like house arrest, but is actually doctor's orders.  Medically, there is something wrong with me.  What it is...is a semi-mystery.  What it isn't, I am thankful for, but my future health, fitness, etc. are still potentially uncertain.  I don't need to go into all the details, but essentially last week, there were a few little weird things that happened that we didn't put together until being tested in the ER for a stroke.  Eye puffiness, (yes, I thought I had a stye...which apparently everyone close to me noticed, but only Madi was RUDE (kidding) enough to comment on), a couple issues of spinning-like dizziness (which I easily wrote off as me getting back in shape and not drinking enough water), a night when I couldn't walk in a straight line and ran into a wall (I asked Greg if he roofied me....seriously, I did!  Chalked it up to exhaustion), and then Friday hit...and apparently I looked like the joker.  The left side of my face went slack...it slid.  No one was home.  I didn't look in a mirror, feel anything or notice it.  However, when Meg came in the house to drop off work stuff, she literally asked "What the f*&$ is wrong with your face?".  After calling her rude and explaining I had a stye, there were a lot more words exchanged   before I finally looked in the mirror.  Well, after promising her I would call the doc later, I made a phone call, went into walk in hours and was rushed to the ER under stroke protocol.  Not only did I look like a villian in a comic book, I failed neuological tests on my left side.  Never would have guessed it, nor believed it, but I watched it.  Finally called my husband at work and so began our weekend. 

After CT scans, 8000 blood draws (ok, maybe 5), countless tests, scary low heart and blood pressure rates (which I attribute to my olympic-like fitness prowess), 3 MRI's, we are a tad more informed.  I did not have a stroke, for which I am eternally thankfu.  I do not appear to have Bell's Pasly or MS.  I no longer look like the joker, but if you look closely, I cannot fully open my left eye....it looks like I have a stye (irony, here).  My daughter says my smile is still slightly crooked.  My left leg has regained most, if not all, of it's strength.  However, I am still dizzy on occasion.  My left eye does not like tracking far left and I have some headaches.  All in all, I feel mostly normal, incredibly frustrated, a bit scared and really vulnerable (which I f%$#@*^ hate), but I am home.  I am working.  I am stubborn (reallly, really stubborn) and I will fight whatever this is with a vengence.  I am awaiting blood tests that are extremely detailed and take 7-10 days to come back to confirm a pretty interesting, and kinda freaky, autoimmune disease.  It will require medicine, alterations and a lot of processing...which I have been working on for the last couple of days, but can't complete until I have answers, in lieu of guessing.  So, while I really do not want this to be the disease they believe it to be, I would love to know something concrete. 

That feeling, the one of NEEDING to know, but not wanting to...yeah, that brings the tears and the memory of that awful day five years ago.  Crazy...nothing like it, but damn it if my emotions don't make it feel like it.  I watched my kids, my loved ones, have that fear this weekend.  I watched Kait, Madi and Drew process just like they did with you....and it was awful.  I know logically that they will bury me one day, but they should not have to for a VERY long time.  They have dealt with enough fear, loss and tragedy.  See, once again, it's kind of easy to see why you're in my thoughts and on my mind.  Truth is you never leave my heart, for better or for worse.  Thanks for being part 1 of this life....even if you left way too early.  I cannot thank you enough for teaching me who I am today....for letting the grief of losing you break me before rebuilding me into a stronger, wiser and better person. 

To my friends that took the time to read this....I thank you.  For caring enough to read my ramblings.  For reaching out.  For giving me space.  (I know, that doesn't make sense, but my emotions range from wanting to escape this house to wanting to cry in a corner.)  For loving me, despite the confusion or uncertainty.  For supporting my kids and Greg, who has been my rock.  From the ashes five years ago, I (we) faced a new normal that we could never have imagined.  I likely face another new normal of sorts that I cannot fathom, nor plan for, so I thank you in advance for your patience while I figure it out. 

Greg....I love you.  Periord.  Plain.  Simple.  (Yes, you drive me insane, but maybe that is the point) 
To my "parents"....mom, papa, dad, Cindy, Linda, Chris, Pete - thank you for all the concern and love. 
To my family....I love you and will be ok, I promise. 
To my kids...I want to be here for you ALWAYS, even when I know that is not possible, but I will do my best to pester you for the next 50 years. 
To Tori & Maddi....thank you for being incredible bonus daughters and for the outpouring of love. 
To Meg, Lori, Amanda, Tom, Terry....thank you for sitting/standing through countless hours of tests in a super awesome hospital ER/room.  More importantly thank you for being with Greg and I through the confusion and providing a security, safety and comfort when laughter was needed the most.
To LeeAnne, Kristen, Jen, Lisa, Becky, the BOMB girls, Nancy, Dylan, Craig, Matt-n-Melissa, Rolf, Bailey...thank you for the constant texts, support and love sent from all over this country and for keeping everything close to your chest and in your hearts. 

With hugs, a bit of fear, some tears and a SHITLOAD of tenancity....here we go. 

Well, once again, another event (ie, birthday, holiday, anniversary, moment) is occurring that is unpredictable.  I should expect it by now, but it always seems to surprise me.  You see, the "events" of today are different than the events of the past.  In the first couple years after you left us, the "events" were predictable.  I knew the big triggers and when they would hit; it was the moments that were a given, but unexpected in their occurances, that shocked me.  Now, I do feel completely, and maybe brutally, honest when I say that we are lucky enough to mainly be reduced to moments of understandable, and mostly predictable, grief, instead of bigger triggers or calendar"events".  However, today, on Drew's 17th birthday, hanging at home with Madi and Drew, just the three of us, doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, but watching the same t.v. show, laughing, joking, and being happy, I am having flashbacks of his childhood, which of course, brings you right back into focus.  More present than you have been in a very long time, for which I have no explanation, just emotion.

I know that writing is my "thing", my therapy of sorts, but right now I am completely at a loss to describe the duality I often feel, especially in this moment.  My life, today, is blessed.  Yep, I said it, I feel blessed.  I have an incredible life with Greg, whom I love completely, as my partner-in-crime in this second phase of existance.  I have three of the most incredible, unique and amazing children anyone could wish for in this life.  I have two bonus daughters whom I have the benefit of both liking and loving.  I have incredible friends that I share my time with, creating memories that are forever cherised.  I love my job, another place that I often cross paths with you, your legacy and your memory;  my co-workers, well they were yours as well, but they are my chosen fr-amily.  If I stopped typing here, most would never question the description of my life as "blessed", but....well, the thing is, despite everything above being absolutely accurate, there is always and forever a "but" in the form of you.

(Necessary segue here....it goes without saying, that my life, nor anyone's is perfect.  Quite the opposite.  I owe it to you to call out what you always knew......while I have some amazing people from our crazy industry that I cherish as friends, you saw the potential for ugliness in our business and some of the people in it.  You did not want me anywhere near the working arena that has become a huge part of my world.  In fact, you wanted me forever wanted me shielded from many of the things you heard about and ultimately learned to be true in your profession.  Well, let me tell you, I get it.  Some of the same lying, manipulative, dishonest and destructive people are still there....doing what they do best, manipulating the truth (ok, well absolutely abliterating it) for personal fun or professional gain would be my best guess.  That said, the only way to avoid the negatives, would be to give up the positives, and I hope I never let negativity, malice or hatred win out.  Moving outside our industry, our mini focus, to our world and global focus, a more dangerous hatred seems to permeate our country right now; separate issues, dissimilar in their basis, but incredibly heartbreaking, none the less.  So, my choice is to try to focus on positivity, strength and truth.  I hope our kids gain strength from the force that is their mom and extended family, the memory of the you they knew before illness, the unselfish love that comes from Greg and find the same courage to fight through the BS for the betterment of themselves and others.  As it stands, they sure seem to be on an amazng path of kindness, empathy and understanding that is often well beyond their years.) 

Getting back to what started this journal entry.....feeling blessed with Greg, our family, our friends, the kids.  I feel happy, thankful, lucky, even.  Yeah, lucky....how fucking crazy is that?    The truth is, I feel all of the these things, but I also will carry a life long grief that is perfectly acceptable, honorable and true....it just coexists in the exact same place.  Two opposing emotions at peace in my heart. 

Let us not forget, it was only six short (or incredibly long - depending on the day) years, that lucky was probably one of the last words I would have used to describe my feelings or our situation.  Desperate, broken, tragic, diseased are just some of the words that would have accurately described the hidden life we were attempting to survive.  Wow, that word "survive" just came out of nowhere.  At the time, I had no idea we were trying to survive an illness;  I just thought we were keeping a temporary condition (and your reputation) protected;  how incredibly sad, naive, and wrong I was (or, maybe we were) at the time.   How did I get from there to here?  How did the kids?  How do we honor the you we loved so deeply, the anger that exhisted beneath the surface at a faceless disease that changed the you we had always known AND also be so incredibly thankful for the life we have now, where you are but a memory?  GOD, it is this craziness, this duality to which I speak, that doesn't make sense, but that just IS.  My heart is forever broken and yet, in the same space, incredibly full.  Tears of loss married with tears of joy and appreciation.  Love through hate.  Life through death.

I hope you get it.  I hope you know why I write, rant, segue, ramble....remember.  ALWAYS remembering....all of it. 

In the end, I am thankful for all you were, all we built, all that was left....they are the best gifts this world has ever given me and everything since then, ultimately, is because of you, your life, your death, your memory.

You are forever loved by so many.  Always, No Matter What.

Today, I had a great talk with your brother.  He had the benefit of hanging with Madi in Boston, showing her around, and simply enjoying her.  A gift.  

I wanted to call him and thank him for just being her uncle.  That led, inevitably, to conversations about your mom, the kids, you.  I was telling him that your mom seems happier, or lighter, or something noticable, over the last couple of months.  I don't want to say she is moving through grief, because she will never move through the loss of you, but she seems to be living a bit.  I am so thankful for that for her.  I also shared that it's ironic, because I feel different lately, too.  I'm less angry with you.  I have so many emotions all the time, and from all appearances, I/we are doing "fantastic", but that doesn't fully cover it.  You see, there if forever-grief, behind everything, sadness, frustration, confusion, and even the happiness, that I would say is my norm.  But there was also some anger or resentment...and I just know it is lessened.  I am thankful for that.  A gift.  One, I will happily accept.

Today was an emotional day.  It sort of capped off an emotional week.  There is no way I could not write about it, but after talking about it, thinking about it, talking some more and, quite frankly, drinking some wine with a dear friend over it....I likely won't be my eloquent, thought-out, organized self.  Ok, that is kind of funny, since my tangents are legendary and my segue's a norm.  I digress....

This week has been an emotional one.  For several people.  From separate instances.  With one common tie.  You....

Their stories aren't really mine to tell, however to say that the past has a way of sneaking up on us is an understatement sometimes.  I am so happy to write that we have hired another ex-Draeger-ite;  one of the good ones.  His story, however, brought back so many feelings, memories and resentments from the old days.  Bill and I have had a bunch of emotions, with anger likely the strongest, surge through our souls since yesterday.  Much of it makes sense....hearing that JGD is back to his old tricks of "alleged" manipulation, lies and destruction brought forth a venom we both thought was somewhat buried.  Guess our mortal selves haven't come anywhere close to forgiveness yet.  It is impossible to forget, but improbable to forgive, an established pattern that appears to be recreating itself, a mere four years after our old home shut it's doors.  In fairness, I hadn't gotten anywhere close to forgiveness before, but now, hearing that so many things that occurred before are happening again, a rage that has been somewhat dormant, has resurfaced with a vengence.  Hiring NK is a little piece of justice.  It helped a little.  But, that was yesterday.

Today...well, where do I start.  Today was amazing.  And hard.  And inspirational.  And emotional.  And brutal. And, as always, today was a gift. 

Today started out like most days.  After poking and proding our son awake and shuffling him out the door, I officially started my day.  I drove in traffic.  I talked to my mom and my papa.  I talked to my (our) kids. I talked and laughed with Greg.  I enjoyed the conversation and friendship of some awesome women.  Mostly, I felt so much of the love that this life has to offer....family, friends, our children, my husband, etc., all before the clocked ticked 9am. 

Today, I also felt the impact of how much your death (and our loss) has affected others. This afternoon, Bill and I had the benefit of sharing some time with a handful of incredible people with whom we hope to build lasting professional relationships.  We shared a bit, learned a lot and were honored to be in the company of people who had enough courage and integrity to ask some tough, but forthright and honest, questions.  As fate would have it, the questions were easy to answer (likely too easy for me, as my fierce opinions were hard to hide), but painful to revisit, none-the-less.  I can never seem to NOT place blame on DCI (or more accurately JGD) for losing a piece of you. Inaccurate? Unfair? Unearned?  Maybe.  Honest?  Yep.

Anyway, after my way too candid display and a clearly passionate conversation, I was taken aback by an even more poinant, beautiful, grevious conversation.  A private conversation, by an incredible soul, who confided in me a shared grief of suicidal loss, personal depression overshadowed by deeply private hard work and dedication to heath and self and family and perserverence and LIVING.  A man, whom I hope to call a friend, opened up his heart, his soul and his story to me and shared his belief in all that I am.  He praised me as a colleague, but respected me more as a person who is willing to share our story (the good, the bad, the ugly) in an effort to grieve, to give hope, to potentially help others and to show you honor.  Show you honor...that bears repeating.  He told me how much it meant to him that I don't hide your life, your legacy, or our "story",  behind the wall of shame and stigma that usually follows depression.  A deeper sense of shame and and a negative social stigma almost always accompanies suicide, but it is most often coupled with blame and judgement. 

You see, this beautiful man has lived the very same legacy of your children, with the horrific loss of his father at the age of 16.  He has suffered from the very disease that robbed him of his dad and us of you.  He has faught the drowning waves of sadness.  And he chooses to live each day to be better tomorrow.  He doesn't hide from his disease, but tackles it like the monster it is and he beats it every time.  Every time.  It is not a single battle, but a war.  I could not be more proud that he is winning.  Nor could I have been more honored by the fact that somehow, in some way, I had made a difference to him.  He has no idea how much strength I see in his face or how small I feel knowing his battles, but his words, his kindness, his belief in me, means more than I could convey.  He may never know how deeply he touched my heart, but I will be forever grateful. 

Once again, I owe so much of who I am today to you.  You were an incredibly teacher in life, but it has been through your death that I may have learned the most. 

RIP, EHB.  Always.  No Matter What.