Eric Benner

Gosh, this week has been a hard one. The passing of Robin Williams hit hard for so many and sparked a debate around social media about the hideous "d" word. Lori found a perfect response (and one of the most scarily accurate) on social media that so hauntingly took me right back to your suffering. I was so thankful that someone else had written it and that it was so spot on that lori cut and paste it and put it in an email for me to save for future reference.  There are so many things that were emotionally hard about this week...I could write a diatribe. But, the truth is, I would rather focus on the positive. 

Your baby girl turns 17 today. Your baby boy, yeah, he just turned 15. They are incredible people...truly. I not only love them (and your original baby girl) unconditionally, but I genuinely like them. I enjoy being with them, laughing with them, crying with them and even handling the tough job of "parenting" them. I literally want to stop time because it's moving too fast. I am amazes by their strength, their resilience, and how each of them, on their own time, have faced their loss. They inspire me to be better. Every. Single. Day. 

I am so sad for you to be missing it. Devastated that your disease robbed you of this, of them, and them of you. I have a contempt so deep for your illness that it makes me crazy when I hear of some other person, some other family, that was robbed as a result. I'm sure it's no different than how others view any disease that took someone so violently and so unfairly, yet the punishment and judgement that still seem to walk hand in hand with depression causes me outrage. I KNOW this stigma comes from a lack of understanding, but it just reinforces every ounce of shame that stops people from getting the help they need. I know you believed there was no cure for you, but that is the nature of this disease...it's very essence.  Those of us here will never know, but I choose to have faith, despite the odds of late, and I choose to believe that one day depression will be as reviled as Cancer and treated by all with the respect and empathy it deserves.  

Today is hard.  Similar to your birthday.  Dec. 6th.  These are the DAYS that are hard.  Moments are hard all the time, but it is both good news, and bad, that the days that are hard have boiled down to specific dates, holidays, or the random sad day that catches us off guard.  Good news....and bad.  You are still not here...redundant, I know, but if it felt like forever ago that you were here that very first year, it feels like decades now.  And yet, you are present...in our kids, in our lives, in our memories, in our sadness, in our anger.  You linger.  You haunt.  Yet, you are gone.  Still is nonsensical, you know.  

But, WE are here.  Living, loving, growing, changing.  DOING all the things you wanted and all the things I needed to believe we could do.  Our path has been curvy and confusing, but so very blessed in ways we could never have foreseen.  It is hard sometimes, to feel so thankful for the life we are living without feeling guilty for you not being a part of it.  And yet, like I said before, there is not a day you aren't part of...it is impossible.  Your footprint will last far longer than most.  I hope you feel that, somehow and someway.  I hope you know the sadness that tugs on our our hearts with your memory by the wake you left and whose ripples will always be present.  I also hope you know the joy that you wished for us, and that we are truly actively doing our best at living, in the wake created by others since you have left.  We are doing our best at carrying on the legacy of the life you wanted and not the life you left.  

I uploaded a picture of our kids, grown as they seem, as a visible reminder of all that you were....the best of you, living on in them.  They own me...my heart, my love, and my life's mission.  Thank you for them;  I am forever grateful. 

This has been a tough week, especially for Michael and me, when a blast from "those dark, dark days" came back to smack us in the face.  In fairness, it really only hit me, but with my knack for sharing, I involved Michael.  Misery loves company...UGH.  As Michael so eloquently pointed out "it's not like we need another thing to remind us more than the three times a day something naturally does,..." but this week's 'event' took us right back to December, 2011.  I know you had no clue about the pain that would resonate in the lives of others after you left, but those of us here, we get it....ripples in the water that never really stills.

Anyway, as Easter approaches, more memories flood of Easter egg coloring, baskets from the Easter bunny, egg hunts, church, family photos, friends, food, love, life.  Every year, Easter marked the onslaught of birthdays...yours, followed so quickly by Kait's, then mine and, finally, a little break before Drew and Moo.  This year, your first baby girl, turns 21.....21.  A vibrant, amazing, goregous, funny, intelligent, goofy, kind almost adult.  Your little girl...so grown up, but not so much still that she isn't your girl.  You just aren't here.  You are MISSING it.  That kills me...every time.  You think I would get used to how much you have missed.  Through your illness, I bet you missed a ton, too, but it felt different to us.  Maybe not to you.  Maybe you are able to be more present now and we just cannot physically see it.  I hope so.  I hope - for you and for THEM - that you are here.  That aside from your memories, your soul is here, that they feel it and know it, because damn it - they need you.  STILL....ALWAYS.  No matter the great loves in their life, and there will be many, no one will ever replace you.  EVER.  I sometimes think I hate you for that.  But then, I realize it's really one more thing I love about you.  Your greatness, which seems so far away, ripples our waters stilll....

Easter....Christ's rebirth.  A reminder of his love.  Our memories, good and bad, a reminder of you.  ALWAYS.



*pic is from Easter 04-04-2010 

I didn't know the "protocol" for today....I don't really have a memory, a feeling, an emotion to share, but I also didn't feel like simply "lighting a candle" today.  

See, today, is sort of like many days, a new, new normal.  Today, you flitted (is that a even a word?) in and out of my mind.  Sometimes I knew why (a song on Sirius, a facebook picture memorial and definitely the signing of Phase 3 on your last multi-million dollar project that we are still working on), sometimes I didn't.  Emotions ranged from sad to smiles.  Flitters here and there.  I think it is pretty fitting considering how many tough conversations I had at CACM last week with people who still love you and miss you and are still really pissed, hurt, confused.  But, today, you have been flitting about in my mind.  

So, to the fleeting thoughts, the memories that make me sad and the ones that make me smile, to you...stay flitting in all of us, ok?   

I have thought a lot about what to write, aside from what came to me at 4:30am, and I honestly have no words right now.  I have written so much over the past two years, not always adding much new, but always trying to maintain an open, honest, raw communication.  

That said, I was shocked that once again I awoke from a deep sleep at 4:30am like a shot, filled with moment by moment memories from "that day".  My memories, so cloudy and spotty in the immediacy after, are crystal clear of that morning.  Moment.  By.  Moment.  I look forward to a time when that isn't the case.  

That said, I am EVER GRATEFUL for the people that envelope our life and have been our stabilizing force, our "rocks", over the past two years.  Tonight, those wonderful, loving, kind, dedicated, loyal people will once again gather, this time for a toast to you and your LIFE and your children.  

In life, and after, with love, always....