#73 Benji

Meet Benji.

Benji is a stuffed soldier that was with Eric for most of his life. I believe Benji was given to Eric by our Aunt. I’m not sure how he got his name except that maybe the movie “Private Benjamin” came out around that time and we associated the name with a soldier. Benji lived in Eric’s room as a child and a teenager. When Eric and my parents moved to Asia, Benji went too. I don’t know if Benji went to college with Eric, but I wouldn’t be too surprised if he did. Benji’s latest home is my parent’s guest room.

Along the way Benji has accumulated clothing and accessories. I’m sure my mother made him the jeans he is wearing and the bathrobe repurposed from an old pair of footie pajamas. Under the robe he is wearing a t-shirt that says “Benji” in green puff paint that looks too neat to have been done by Eric. I wonder if I did that.

Of course we can’t overlook his latest accessory; the ultra-chic bowtie. Eric went through a very dapper phase (most of his adult life) and was buying clothes from Thomas Pink’s when I was rationing myself at the bookstore. The logical place for a cast-off bowtie would be around Benji’s neck.

I suppose most kids have a “friend” like Benji that they hang onto. My boys both have stuffed animals they claim they cannot sleep without. My 3 year old’s lambie even seems to be able to cure boo-boos. There is something to be said for the comfort and security of a long known pal. Of course we grow up and move on, but there is always a place in our hearts for the Benjis of our lives.

I think we all assumed that one day Benji would get passed down to a little Eric. That, of course, will not happen now. No one ever assumed that Benji would outlive Eric.

#72 I Dare You!

Yesterday we took my kids to the beach. It was my parents, my husband, the kids and me and the trip had a middling degree of success. My oldest son got splashed in the face once (with goggles on) and decided the water was not for him. In his defense, he is just tall enough to stand where all of the waves break and a little too big to be carried beyond. He concentrated the rest of his energies on digging the deepest hole he could. My little one had a bit more success in the water, but he insists that I hold him, and I’m not that tall, so it’s hard to keep his face out of the water. After one wave took both of us out, we decided we’d had enough of that. He also decided to dig a deep hole, but of course only wanted the shovel his big brother was using and you can figure out how it went from there.

Being there amid all the other beach goers reminded me of going to the shore with Eric. We grew up in New Jersey, so of course we didn’t go to the beach, it was the shore. We would go once or twice a summer and spend the day, usually with another family or two. All of those trips kind of blend together in my head and I know Eric spent a lot more time playing in the sand than I did, but I have one indelible memory of those times. I remember standing in the surf with Eric, staring at the incoming waves and yelling, “I dare you!” We dared the ocean to send us the biggest waves it could, to really try and take us out. The surf was pretty tame most of the time we went, so we could safely do this. Just thinking of that brings back the pure sun-kissed glee of those times. No worries, no cares, knowing you can handle anything that comes your way; daring it to come your way.

Eric lived most of his life like that; out there in the rough, daring life to throw him a challenge and handling it beautifully when it did. The end of Eric’s life is a perfect example. He was running a half-marathon, daring his body to last and make it to the end. He set himself a challenge of running a race every weekend, and for the most part stuck to it. On his refrigerator there was a split photograph of Eric before and after he started his latest fitness craze. He was never heavy, but there are definitely a few extra pounds in the before picture and lot more muscle definition in the after picture. He challenged himself to change his diet and level of fitness and he did it. For some there is a level of comfort in knowing that Eric’s last day involved something he loved to do. For me there is no level of comfort in knowing that Eric had a last day. Still, if his life had to end, at least we know he never shied from a challenge, never cowered at life. He lived actively and thoroughly and exuberantly. He lived the way everyone wishes they could.

#71 Wal-Mart

I am a somewhat haphazard packer. Apparently it is difficult for me to envision the different situations we might encounter when away from the house, and what we might need for them. Who could predict that a baby might need a nap and I might want a baby monitor for such occasion? Who would think that my children might actually want bathing suits for Grandma and Grandpa’s hot tub? In my defense, I don’t think I made the same packing omission twice, but I usually make an omission glaring enough to require a trip to Wal-Mart.

At heart I am a Target girl, but when we visit my parents there isn’t one convenient to us so we are forced to go to Wal-Mart. Over the years our annual trip has become as much of a Thanksgiving ritual as turkey or over-eating. Usually it’s my husband, me, Eric and my Uncle, and by the time we actually make the trek we have a list at least half an arm long of things we forgot, just decided we need, or my mother forgot to buy at the grocery store. Of course, once there it usually takes us 4 times as long as it should to get everything on the list because we spend so much time gawking. We laugh at the as-seen-on-TV products that we never thought anyone would buy. And sometimes we decide maybe we should try them out after all. We inevitably find some amazing gadget that we just have to have, or something that is just too cheap to pass up. (An umbrella stroller for $10!!!) But most of all, we stare at the other shoppers. The mix of people at Wal-Mart is incredible. There are those who come in their pajamas, and those who seem to be missing half of their clothes--usually the half that would cover the parts that I don’t want to see.

We spend a lot of time giggling and acting in very immature ways and just having a ball. So much so, that before this past Thanksgiving, the first one that Eric was going to bring his girlfriend to, we built it up as something to look forward to, not just something we might do if we forgot something. Only last year I didn’t forget anything. Miracle of miracles I actually managed to pack everything we needed. We didn’t make our annual trip.

On the last day of the holiday weekend, Eric and his girlfriend did go to fill a prescription, but they went alone. I can only hope that they found some amusement in the trip.

For those of you who have never experienced the humor in a trip to Wal-Mart I leave you with a website introduced to me by Eric. Don’t go there if you are not prepared to laugh and be a little disgusted all at the same time. www.peopleofwalmart.com

Our trips won’t be the same without him, but I’ll always remember him when I’m there.

#70 Jealousy

Only the good die young. Certainly Eric was good. Does this mean he was better than me? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to die, but I do want to be good. At least better than Eric anyway. Oh, that sibling rivalry…

Eric and I were always very close. That doesn’t mean we didn’t have our moments or petty jealousies. Because we did, we definitely did.

I hated that he was funnier that I was, that the same phrase spoken by him would make people laugh and spoken by me would get me into trouble. I hated that when he got into Harvard my mother ran around calling everyone she knew. She didn’t do that when I got into college. For a while I called him the golden boy because amazing opportunities (and salaries) seemed to just fall into his lap. Just when one thing would go bust, another, better opportunity would come along.

What other new college graduate could call the company he wanted to work for and have them tell him to write a job description complete with salary requirements—and then convince them to go for it??

What other person could decide he felt like living in London and almost immediately find a spectacular job there?

I was jealous, but I was also proud. It never really affected our relationship; it was just there in the background. I’m sure there were things about me that made Eric jealous. There better have been anyway; otherwise it’s just not fair.

Maybe it’s my jealousy. Maybe that’s why I’m not as good as Eric. I’m not jealous anymore, hadn’t been in a while. Things were good between us. Maybe he should have been a little less good.

#69 Stunned

The unpredictability of life is stunning.

We plan and make routines and think we’ve got this thing called life tamed. We have car seats and alarm systems and we hold hands when we cross the street. We walk our children in and out of school; we never lose sight of them in the pool. We know what to expect.

Or so we think. It’s luck that we avoid the reckless driver or the child abductor. It’s luck that the hurricane or tornado misses us.

You think you have it all under control and then a random tree branch falls from the sky and kills your 6 month old daughter and seriously injures her mother.

It’s never all under control. It’s just an illusion we live with. A powerful, calming illusion, but an illusion none-the-less. You can plan all you want, sometimes life leaves you alone and sometimes it doesn’t.

Every parent has felt that horrible, gut wrenching fear of losing a child and then the relief when it turns out he just went to the bathroom by himself. But he could have been taken. It does happen, everyday, to people just like you; good parents, just like you.

You plan and prepare and teach and warn and hope that life lets your illusions stand. That the ever present devastation passes over you and your family this time. That there is no hidden cancer or illness waiting in the wings. That everything really will be ok. Just like we tell ourselves and our children.

We like to think that the monsters only exist in story books and that everything happens for a reason. Do you really believe that? Can you?

I can’t find a reason here. A child is shepherded through the scary parts of life, toddler-hood where running into the street seems like a good idea, the trials and tribulations and successes of grade school, summer camp, high school, college. He gets his own job and supports himself. He’s making his own life, your job is done. Then he’s gone. And you couldn’t foresee it, you couldn’t prevent it. You were happy he was running and keeping in shape. And then he wasn’t. And he never will again.

And it’s stunning.

#68 Birthdays

Three days after Eric died my oldest child turned 6. Needless to say, none of us felt like celebrating. But when you’re 6, a birthday is a big deal. We had already pulled him out of school, flown him across the country and postponed his birthday party; we had to do something.

As with most 5 and 6 year olds, my son loves Chuck E. Cheese. As with most parents, I do not. I had been telling him a little white lie…..that there were no Chuck E. Cheese’s in our home state of North Carolina. So far he was buying it. I decided we would try to find a Chuck E. Cheese in Las Vegas to make all of his birthday wishes come true. That way he could run around and play and we wouldn’t have to hold our hard to come by smiles for too long.

His birthday morning we went to the restaurant where we’d been having breakfast everyday and I told the wait staff that it was his birthday. He got chocolate cake for breakfast, complete with candles. Later we were standing by the front desk when he took a call of birthday wishes. The front desk staff overheard and asked us what was going on. Later, when we got back to our room, there was a huge basket full of candy bars waiting for him with a note from the front desk staff.

And of course there was lunch at Chuck E. Cheese. He could not have been more excited. He and his little brother ran around and played every game they had and racked up the tickets. Later they exchanged them for the greatest cheap plastic toys in the world. All in all it was a success, despite the circumstances.

Twenty-four days after Eric died; it would have been his birthday. While he probably would have liked for us to celebrate at Chuck E. Cheese, we chose another route. My in-laws watched my children and my husband and I went to visit my parents. We had an early cocktail hour, and scattered his ashes in the marsh behind their house. We tried to celebrate Eric’s life with laughter and memories, but it was too soon, too raw. We cried and comforted each other and somehow made it through.

#67 Connections

I was at my computer doing some research on sun protection for the eyes for a news interview I did, when I decided to take a break and check facebook. Facebook is always urging me to reconnect with people or send someone a message. Once I was sitting next to a “friend” in a shared office when facebook told me to reconnect with him. I decided to do it in person instead and we both got a good laugh. When I clicked over to facebook tonight, it asked me if I wanted to be friends with Eric.

When Eric died a lot of my friends found out through facebook. I posted a statement on my wall and on Eric’s. The outpouring from the facebook community was and still is amazing. So many people sent me messages or comments. It didn’t matter if we were close or ever had been close. It made me realize that I have a much bigger support group than I ever knew; and every little bit of it helped. Most of you would never have seen this blog without facebook. I still get messages about the blog, or just people checking on me. Almost everyday someone from my past or present contacts me about Eric. I love it. It’s another way of keeping him alive. Some people share their memories with me, and others are just learning about Eric. I welcome them all.

Even the facebook staff has been great. They kept Eric’s page active so his friends can still visit it, but they stopped those reminders to reconnect or send him a message. Every once in a while someone will post something on his page. It’s still painful, but every once in a while I will check it.

I had forgotten that Eric had another facebook page. I think we all did. In another funny email Eric sent us a screen shot of his facebook home page. Facebook was suggesting that he “friend” himself. He apparently had created a page with an old email address and then forgotten about it and later created the page that he actually used.

It was that other page that popped up on my facebook page. I clicked the button to add him as a friend. They’re going to send him a message asking him if he’ll confirm that I am indeed a friend. We can’t officially be friends until he replies.

I’ll wait.