Eric Benner

Wow....it has been awhile since I last wrote.  I am writing tonight because, in honor of you, Drew and I are watching Space Balls and so many memories of laughter are returning.  Drew is QUOTING almost every line and it's driving me crazy....just as it did when you and Michael did it back in college.  But, it's nice, and we are smiling and laughing remembering you, instead of crying, which is a nice change.  Okay, so I am tearing up a bit while typing, but still, Drew smiling, while talking about you....that I will take.  (Okay, the quote thing is literally driving me INSANE - and his favorite line is of course yours, as well about Barf being a MOG!!!!  So alike, and yet, so different... he is a lot like me, as well.)

That said, we made it through the 6th quite beautifully, surrounded by loved ones.  Your mom was here and did amazingly well.  My parents and your brother was here in spirit, though Craig & Darren have moved back to SF, officially, as of yesterday.  

Christmas was a whilrwind, but a great one, and Drew put the star up all by himself...no tears. Kait wrapped every single present, save her own (she even did some of those), and we talked much about our Annual Christmas Eve wrapping fights;  who knew our eldest would take away that option by LOVING gift wrapping.  So, Christmas Eve was a breeze.... The weeks leading up to the holidays, while great, held much emotion for me.  Feelings taken over by memories mostly, not of current issues, but of the past, both near and far, with accompanying emotions that were all over the map.  By the time the holidays were here, once again, I had worked through most feelings and was able to enjoy the moments.  Embracing the moments as they come is a gift that has come from the horror of your death, but it took a long time to find that.  Moving from Christmas to New Years, we spent a lot of time at home, amid chaos, and then capped off New Years' at the Dufresne's with friends and food and fun!  

Fun...it's so nice to speak of that again.  So many things seem to have returned, altered a bit, but back in my life anew.  Take church or reading or reaching out.  Things that I simply could not do for most of this last year that were integral in my past life....well, they are simply back.  I guess that is why they call grief a process.  It is a journey.  The grief we have over your illness and your death...that, I know, will last a lifetime, yet it takes on different phases.  Acceptance, even without understanding, has somehow come into our lives.  Counseling has been a huge help, one of your children might argue that, though I know it to be true.  But the key has really been learned acceptance...accepting the brutal, painful, tear-filled, gut-wrenching moments when they hit and being so very thankful that they pass.  For me, knowing yours never did, puts me in a cycle that I have to consciously break.  For your kids...they walk through it, even when they don't want to, but they are putting one foot in front of the other.  They are healing.  The are loving.  They are LIVING...like you wanted, like you dreamed, like you knew they would.  

But (there is always a but from me, isn't there?)  But....what you forgot, was the memories.  The pain of remembering....you couldn't account for that.  But even that is finally okay...I really do forgive you, because though the agony of remembering literally takes our breath away...if we didn't have that, we could not have had all the other memories you gave us.  So, once again, you were worth it.  All of it.  Once again, you were right, thank GOD, because at least for now, we are all living like you wanted.  I just pray that you will help us continue to do so for the rest of our lives.  Watch over them (your mom and Craig and me, too, if you choose) and help them live they way you believed they would.  Help keep them safe and healthy and happy...most of all, happy.  Love us, as you promised, no matter what, as we now love you.

ps - as I sign off, I am finally letting Drew watch Blazing Saddles - only for you!  


 

Where do I even start...this past year without you has been a fast one. Through the three years you coached me, you made me laugh more than ever and give me unforgetable memories that will last forever. Your passing helped me finally understand and accept why my dad did the same, but your passing also hurt me more then you could even think. I used to cry every night before I fell asleep for a couple of months just thinking that I'll never see your face or smile again, or hear your laugh or voice ever again, it was hard, and still is. This past week you have been on my mind 24/7, wondering what was going through your head the last night you were here, with your family and continuously remember all the memories we had together. Sometimes I even hear your voice in my head, or have flashbacks, particularly the time I came to Kaits graduation party at your house and I walked into the kitchen and you're mixing something in a bowl and with that beautiful smile on your face you said "Hi Jo!" This day has been harder then i thought, hiding the sadness behind my smile at school, not wanting my friends to wonder what's wrong and me having to explain it all, because I can't, it's not easy. I'm glad i got to remember you when you where happy and never saw you when you were sad...thank you for everything you have done for me, teaching me how to play the game, all the memories you left me with, and even the sadness you brought me, it made me grow as a person. I still remember the night I found out about your passing, it's like it just happened yesterday. You were one of the most amazing people I have met and I will never forget you Coach Eric. Miss you tons.

I can breathe again...which is weird, because I couldn't earlier today, which is not what I expected.  I expected tomorrow or I guess I anticipated tomorrow, but today, well, that was another story.  I was out, visiting a client, about to deliver client gifts, in the rain, when dejavu hit like a typhoon and I was taken back to that day.  I drove, crying silently, feeling just like I was there all over again...that day, which feels like ten years ago, which kind of makes sense since it was a day that lasted a year.  Crying in the rain, trying to pretend everything was normal, while knowing it wasn't....well, at least today I knew.  I guess I just didn't expect it.  Ironic....I didn't expect it then and I certainly didn't expect it today.  Tomorrow, I expected...

So, maybe tomorrow will not be what I expected.  This last year certainly hasn't.  We will walk through it, whatever it brings, but I really want tomorrow to be about your LIFE and not your death.  I want it to be about the you that is missed, the you that was whole, and healthy, and real, and loved.  

I am so thankful for the three F's and sustained us last year....friends, food, family.  So, we are bringing those three F's back....to see how far we have come, to remember, to celebrate you, to laugh, to cry, to remember.  Always, to remember.  

 

Dear Eric:
You already know what I am thinking and feeling in my heart.

Your family has shown incredible strength and perseverence throughout the past year.  They give me strength.  We all miss you. 
 

Time...such a funny thing.  That seems to be something shared amongst most, if not all, of my posts or letters, really, written here.  And yet, it is something that continues to surprise me.  This "time" of year is bringing up all kinds of emotions for me and for those that loved you, family and friends alike.  For me, remembering last year is really tough...you were so sick, so tired, so done.  I saw that, but didn't see...Even now, in death, like in life when you were so sick, I sometimes think I see you, the old you, but in a heartbeat that image is gone.  I remember feeling like that when you were alive and always being so surprised when the disease reared its ugly head, which is so ridiculous since the moments you seemed like you were so few and far between.  Recently, our counselor told me something that just hit home...it was something you tried to convey years ago (when you called me naive, which I was, by the way)....he told me that I need to quit being surprised when people act like who they are, not who I want them to be.  Now, he was referring to our beautiful, forgetful son, and helping me realize acceptance of the things Drew is not so great at allows me to appreciate all the awesome things I really admire in him.  But hearing that, and coming to understand its reality, has been another gift, for which I am so grateful.  

One problem with this is that I still don't see your death as you.  Unfortunately, the last couple years of your life weren't you, either.  I wasn't me.  I hate what depression did to you, to me, to our kids, to our family....we all became unrecognizable.  Your death was the ultimate in unbelievable.  Unfathomable.  Surreal.  At times, it still is.  

Fast forward a year, and we are all finding our niche again.  Becoming re-recognizeable, yet forever changed, hopefully for the better.  I believe we all work really hard at trying to be more loving, more appreciative, more thankful, more hopeful....  And yet, at times, I honestly feel like I have lived two lives.  Before & After.  Nothing after is the same as before....nothing.  That doesn't mean there isn't beauty or happiness or friendships, but they are different (some so much more meaningful and beloved, some can never be what they were).  But, as a result of you, I love more openly, more freely, regardless of vulnerability, with those I allow in.  I thank you for the path that got me here.  Still angry.  Still sad.  Still heartbroken over so many things.  But happy....yeah, doesn't make any sense.  But, I will take it, all of it, and continue to walk through it.