Eric Benner

So many times over the last week I have almost written on this page, usually at a heightened emotional state in which tears were my consistent companion.  I honestly cannot believe the roller coaster this week has been for such an odd range of reasons, all of which are due to present circumstances, but most of which caused me to feel anger, resentment and/or sadness with regards to you.  That may seem crazy, but it is my reality, and when it comes to things with our children, especially when those "things" echo hints of "you", man, do I want to lash out.  Problem is that you are not here for me to be angry at, and your ghost, in the eyes of our children and many others, is that of a hero, so that double-edged sword sometimes sucks ass.  You, or the memory of you, gets all the glory.  I get the reality.  You see, E, you were a rockstar...dad, husband, coach, friend, son, businessman.  And then, you got sick.  But to most, you still remained the image of what you were.  To me, well, you were the man I loved, with a disease I hated, and a personality that had such duality that it was hard to be present in your presence.  Lately, I find that anger and sadness go hand in hand with regards to you and I hate that. But I cannot control it, so I simply feel it.  All of it.  

I guess this needs some explanation.  This summer (the summer before Madi leaves for college) takes me back to that summer (2011, when Kait left and you were so damn sick) and there is so much pain associated with that time that I cannot help but bring it in to today.  I am left with memories and promises and hurt that are as real today as they were back then and because this comparison was so unexpexted (welcome to the life of non-scripted grief), I have a lot of blame that I place on you.  SUPER UNFAIR, but SUPER HONEST.  When Madi gets trapped inside her head and struggles to communicate or believes she can solve everything on her own and shuts us all out, it takes everything in my being not to scream at her for acting like you.  While I know in my head that she isn't you, in fact, she is an amazing balance of you and me and her friends and famility and faith and surroundings and even her newer extended family, I immediately go to a place of fear and an unwaivering need to fix.  You thought I was the only thing that could fix you, despite every doctor's advice and instruction that I couldn't.  I tried for so long to be the "solution" that now it's really all I know how to do, despite it not being the healthiest of options. I am so filled with rage at times because I need to fix everything, likely some things/situations/relationships that probably should be left broken.  It is a burden that I carry, illogical, but ever present and I resent the hell out of you for it.  Again, super unfair, but super real.  

Realistically, I am sure most parents see the best and the worst of themselves and each other in their kids.  It is normal.  But your best traits were also some of your worst and the blurred line of which is which causes confusion, fear and frustration.  Many of the things I admired about you once upon a time are traits I now question; what I once viewed as strength, now often comes across as a form of weakness.  Your intelligence, your stubborness, your perserverance, your determination....do you see how they can become convoluted?  Without these, you wouldn't be you, but without them you also might have seen a path to get better.  Probable...maybe not, but, possible...maybe.  So, how do I make sense of those traits in our kids? In myself? In my relationships?  I don't honestly know, but I do my best every day to try and keep them separate.  Right now....with this time of impending transition and constant flux...I am not doing such a great job with the comparmentalizing.  

To be fair, I know this is not all on you;  you are just making a somewhat justifiable scapegoat right now.  Thankfully, Kait and Drew and Greg are helping keep me in check and seem to understand my heart right now, best they can.  Madi, well she is hearing me, understanding my thoughts, opinions and experiences, even when she may not necessarily know if she agrees.  My friends...that is a little ticky currently, as many of them all have their own "stuff" right now.  But dang, this time is hard. Really fricking hard. I want to hold on so tight right now and freeze this time and space, so my time with Moo doesn't change, knowing full-well it will in the blink of an eye.  I want to keep Moo in this safety bubble of "home", all the while truly encouraging her to spread her wings, take flight, dip, hover and soar.  And, I really hope you are somewhere in those clouds, giving her (and all of us) some spiritual support.  

I know this letter-of-sorts likely doesn't make sense, but it is just plain real, and that is all I know how to be anymore.  Which is why I am mad and sad and blaming and understanding and genuine and authentic and finally, writing, because that is also my reality, my other therapy of sorts.  So, in closing, forgive my anger, my blame, my sadness....they are feelings that exist in my heart and not necessarily reality, but they are MY reality, and I need to walk through them.  And to be this angry, there must also be love, so remember that, if you can, because it will always be the basis of where we started, what we grew and what you left this earth with in your heart.  In closing, I am posting a picture of things that I hope our children experience while on their life's journey and one I truly pray you have found in heaven.  Thanks for letting me vent....I really needed it.  

Always.  Wen 

Our girl is going through a hard time....and recieving high praise....and winning an essay scholarship....and it all surrounds you. 

Her hard time may not be ALL about you; in fairness, graduation, the thought of what lies ahead and what you leave behind can be crazy, stressful, scary and exciting in normal situations.  But, facing one more huge life event that you are missing out on, combined with consistently having to talk or address your loss as a result of an essay she wrote about your loss, well it's pretty tough.  I think she is withdrawing a bit, thinking too much and missing out on enjoying this time a bit.  Not your fault, per se, but you are at the heart of it.  You are often at the heart of so many things; ever present in our life, likely forever more. 

Anyway, I guess I just want you to know that she needs a little extra love, a dream visit, a sign, some angelic pressure removed, along with an overbearing mama bear who connstantly watches, prays and loves her down here. 

I haven't written here for over three months.  Crazy...that has never happened before.  I have thought about it, meant to do it, but for various reasons, I have not done it.  This certainly doesn't mean I haven't thought about you.  That happens almost daily.  Good memories, not so good memories, but always there, in the background.  I guess that's what happens when you spend the better part of your life with someone and then, one day, they are gone.  The memories aren't.  The best gifts in my life are because of you.  But, they somehow, selfishly, seem more mine, than ours, now.  But....just because that's how I feel sometimes, doesn't make it true.  I guess what's hard is that the pain of loving you, of remembering you, of the loss of you...I kind of blame on you.  Which is bullshit and unfair and crap, but true.  I know the loss of your life was to a wicked, toxic disease.  And, yet, I hate that our kids miss out on the love of you, the best of you, the health of you.  And it is sometimes, in pure mortal honesty, easier to blame you, than a faceless disease.  Totally shitty of me...totally human, too.  

But, I also can tell that something has shifted.  Time has played it's tricks.  Maybe, it is just that in addition to the world spinning, our days are so filled right now.  Whatever it is, I sense it, but can't describe it.  Maybe, it is being back with Bill and Joe...so much a part of you, but also a huge part of me.  Maybe it is with all the events of Senior Year that I am living with Madi-moo, it takes me to all the events of Kait's senior year (2011)...your last year here.  

I have said this so many times, in so many ways, but I hate that you are missng all these big events.  But, in actuallity, I hate that you miss our kids little events.  Their moments.  Because I cherish them, or try to, with every fiber in my being.  I try to make up for them not having you here. (Impossible, by the way).  But, I try anyway.  It's weird...we are doing a few things finally to close some chapters.  We are doing a 1997 DLD reunion (well, Doug and Daryl are hosting) and I am looking forward to it.  Doug has helped me finalize the plaque for the shed on the DHS Softball field that we purchased in your honor.  I don't know why these things, so much a part of you, were impossible before, but are happening now.  Maybe, it is the "shift" I sense.  Maybe, it's just time.  One more thing I do not know or understand.  

But, in closing, I do know this...  I need your life to stay relevant.  I need your memory to stay present. Mostly, I need you to know that you are missed.  Please watch over our babies....they will never stop needing that.

The title says it all, doesn't it?  It's heartbreaking, plain and simple.  Luckily, thank God, love acts like glue, because that is all I can offer when they miss you.  I hold them, cry with them, attempt to soothe them, share memories, say I am sorry for their pain, and snuggle them up as we walk through their moments or hours of active grief.  Then, I walk away, thankful that we are at a point where they have learned to share their emotions, and wait for a new wave of grief to hit.  Mine, like theirs, bubbles beneath the surface and hits when it chooses.  It will never not be, it just is part of who we are now.  You are our before, your loss is our after.  I know you did not count on that...you would never have wanted to have us hurt, especially by you.

There is no pain, like watching someone you love hurt.  I felt that when you were sick.  It broke me, actually, over time.  Ironically, your death, which ended your suffering, commenced theirs. Also, ironic, is that I could no longer be broken.  I was all they had.  I had no choice, but to heal.  What you did not count on, and I know this as sure as I know anything, was that by leaving us, you created holes in our hearts that nothing can ever fill.  We can, and have, healed, but we will always hurt.  You would never have chosen this for us, no matter the cost.  I know that.  Unfortunately, your disease chose it for you, and we will forever be left with the scars of your loss.  

I wrote a long and emotional letter, of sorts, to you earlier on this very page.  It took over an hour to compile and walked me through many emotions.  For some reason I cannot explain, when I hit send, it was lost in cyberspace.  So, since there is no way to recreate what it said, I simply take it as a post not meant to be.  However, I could not escape today without writing something, to touch on the pain and the hurt and the reality of loss that our kids experience, that so many experience, as a result of your death combined with our life.  My head and heart are jumbled, as is likely evident in this note, because I had worked out everything so elloquently earlier.  

Maybe that is my lesson today...that my writing, like our grief, doesn't need to be elloquent or perfect or edited, it simply needs to be genuine and real and authentic, sometimes beautiful, sometimes raw, alway true.  Today, it is a mess of tears and frustration and heartache.  I have felt anger, too, I admit.  I want to fix everything for our kids, just like I wanted to "fix" you.  But, I can't and that it ok, because we are all learning that to hurt doesn't necessarily mean to break.  I didn't know that before, but I have learned and accepted it.  I can face it now and walk through it and get to the other side and that is all I ever want for them...the other side, so that they can continue to live and learn and love and yes, hurt and heal and grow and grieve.  Then, they will live, truly live, all the blessed days they are given, which I pray far exceed my own.  So, until the next hurt, or memory, or event....I leave you.  As always, loved.

Wen
 

Remebering you is never easy..........missing you is not easy.....knowing you was wonderful.....watching your family living is wonderful...you should rest in peace now!  ❤️  Mom  and Papa