Eric Benner

Today, Michael  added Drew's songs to your memorial page.  Fitting, I think, as each song was originally intended to be about a dad.  On My Team, written by Patrice about his dad, Remember the Days, also written by Patrice, and changed by Drew and me to reflect more of a teen friendship/relationship.  Ghost of My Father, written by me, is clearly an attempt to capture the feelings Drew has verballized, and those he hasn't, about his resemblance to you, the best of you.  The concept of this song was actually taken from a poem Madi wrote and then altered to fit a song stylistically.  Either way, to hear Drew's voice coming through when visiting you, in this format, seems fitting.  

Your page means different things to differnt people.  To Kait, it appears to be a place for her to go, to remember, to question and to really grieve.  I hope that it becomes something personal like that for Madi and Drew, at some point, whenever they are ready.  For our friends, it remains a place to keep you alive, to be sad, to find comfort.  For me, wow, well it serves many purposes....I cry, vent, remember, write...all different versions of therapy.  I guess it is one way to keep you involved;  I know how ridiculous that sounds.  

Anyways, I sat down and uploaded a bunch of old photos.  Again, it just felt like I should.  No rhyme or reason, just wanted more of you and our kids represented.  Your time remembered.  Your RELEVANCE here, because you are not.  It is just so unfair for them.  For you.  You always thought the younger me's obsession with fair, or more accurately understanding, was silly.  "It is what it is" was your response when I wanted to know the why's in this life that didn't make sense.  I cannot hear that damn phrase (which is so overused today) and not hear your voice saying it.  I just remember how great you were with them.  With everyone, for that matter.  Even now, I just can't fathom the pain it must have caused for what came so naturally to become so much effort, and the resulting feelings that must have resonated.  It brings me to tears, or breath-gasping sobs even now, all this time later because I just don't understand.  I don't understand the disease and how you get there and I don't ever want to.  But, I do now understand how devestating it must have been.  The depth of that devestation.  The frustration and anger and loss of hope.  I do truly thank GOD that I don't personally feel it, however I get it.  More than ever.  Seeing friends or loved ones now struggling with little things in this life constantly takes me back to you and the living hell you were in.  Horrifically unfair and unwarranted and unwanted...but afflicted still, with no reprieve.  I still cling to hope and faith and pray that there was an outcome that could have been different.  However, I finally, completely understand why the disease made you feel differently.  Unfair.  100% unfair.  Which is why it hurts so damn much.  It just feels like it should have been different.  Avoidable.  Curable.  Damn, it better be.  No one else should lose a child, a friend, a parent, a partner to this.  Unrealistic?  Probably.  But, that is still my hope and I pray that never changes.  

I had a feeling, upon receiving a text this morning, that things were going to be different with Tufts this time around. I just felt calm about the process.  Who could have known that within six hours I would have signed paperwork to make our dream home theirs.  There are many uncanny things about this family, they have two girls and a boy, we went to preschool with the wife's sister's son, the wife walked in and instantly knew....but mostly, that they want to move there and create the life we wanted.  The one we dreamed of back then. I hope they get it all.  Every bit.  I want them to live there and love it and take over what we started.  The fact that all of this happened on the 6th (thank you Lori for putting the date to my words) just makes me feel assured that you are ready, too.  Many (if not most) will say...coincidence, but I don't really believe in them anymore, so I will take a little comfort that you had a hand in this.  So, thank you.  

Oh Eric, it's nights like these where I miss you more than ever. It usually goes from me wishing I had my dad back so i could just call him up and just vent to him, then my mind goes to thinking about you. It's crazy how much pain something can bring you, but hey, that's life. But anyways, with high school ball starting and summer coming, I finally have my regrets of deciding to quit softball but i feel like I screwed myself over so I wont start back up again..I feel like your passing was so long ago but it really wasn't..it feels more like 5 years than 1 year 3 months. I dont really know what I'm tryhing to say in this, I'm just all over the place haha, but I feel the need to write something on here so you know I still think about you. I miss you more than ever..

On Saturday, running around for high school softball, out of nowhere, I had some Eric-moments, by myself, in the car, without a song to prompt them or someone who inquired...It's the normal, everyday, moments that surprise now.  The moments when I am hit by the monumental whirlwind that has been the past few years, but painfully reminded just how long is has been since I have seen you...the you that slipped away, before you actually left. 

It doesn't really matter how things are going here, because they are going so much better than I could have ever believed, but I guess the hard part is that isn't really the point.  The point is you didn't get to be here to see it....the unfairness of that...ugh.           I hear the logical, Eric-voice in my head that says this is exactly the point, that you didn't believe being here would allow the rest of us to be where we are.  Maybe not.  I don't know.  I just know that these moments that hit so fast and hard are a constant reminder of all that was lost.  As quickly as they come, the blow through and leave, for which I am extremely grateful.  Again, I hear you tell me that yours came on as quickly as mine do; they just never left.  I can't imagine.  I don't want to.  But, I still can't understand.  Thus, the difficulty.

Your mom came and watched softball and hung out. It was miserably cold and windy, but she was there, watching and supporting and being grandma.  I'd say she is doing better, but can she ever really?  Could I, if in her shoes?  The loss of you for her...unbearable.  Could you have handled losing one of ours?  I couldn't.  I literally gag even thinking of it.  

Anyways, I am rambling, awash in emotion.  Time to dry the tears, change the laundry, go about my day.  I am lucky to be able to do so.  Thank you for teaching me gratitude for something most of us take for granted.  Moving through...Living on.

Wen

 

I guess it's a good thing you instituted the "love you always, no matter what" policy, because when I am at a loss with what to do over our kids and their struggles or our friends and their pain, I get mad at you.  Not really at you, but kind of.  I hate your disease.  Hate its guts.  I hate that it stole you and robbed all of us in the process.  I hate that moving on is such a gift, but a constant reminder.  I wish you were here for me to smack.  And maybe hug.  So, right now, I am really mad at you.  I think some others share that.  But, no matter what, we will all always love you.