Grief.

Grief. A five letter word, with five different stages, that is different for everyone.

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

Acceptance.

It is not just the death that we mourn, but the life too. The loss. The change.

We cling to the expected, the usual, the familiar. It is what is comfortable. But it only takes one action, one phone call, one second to completely rattle life as we know it.

This morning, I heard my phone buzzing on my nightstand at 7am. I saw it was my sister and figured she was calling to interrogate me about where one of her shirts was, or some other normal sister thing. I ignored the call, falling back into my sleepy state. It’s a Tuesday, I don’t have class until 11 so I enjoy sleeping in until almost 9. But my phone kept buzzing. This time, I saw it was my dad. I knew something was wrong. I groggily answered, and immediately heard the serious tone in my dad’s voice. 

“Hannah, your cousin Ben was killed in a car accident early this morning.”

I laid there, not even knowing what to think. I could hear my mom sobbing in the background. I asked a few questions, but there wasn’t a lot of answers. My mom got on the phone, talked to me for a few minutes, and then we hung up. 

I got up and looked out my window. I saw a thin, fresh layer of snow coating the ground. The sun was beginning to peak through the darkness of the night. The day was beginning, but it felt like an ending. I was in shock. I got back into bed. I laid there, with a tears streaming down my face. How could this be? How could my cousin, a young vibrant guy who was always my friend, be gone?

I tried to go back to sleep, but wrestled with devastation. 

A very old picture of most of my cousins from my mom's side.

My family is a tight knit group. I grew up with 4 cousins living one street over, 2 were ten minutes away, and many of the others all lived in state, an hours drive away. We spent Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Mothers Day, Fathers Day, and 4th of July together. We grew up together, hiding under the stairs in my grandma’s basement, playing soccer at the neighborhood park, fighting like siblings, always having fun. 

Ben was one of the three musketeers along with me and my cousin Nick. We were all the same age and the oldest grandchildren. He was technically the oldest by a few months, and I thought he was pretty cool because he drank diet soda when he was little, something only the adults got to do. There were plenty of times I hated being the only girl and felt picked on by Ben and Nick, but things were always quickly resolved. We loved being the big kids and it was such a gift to have two cousins going through life with me. 

Eventually, we grew up and life happened. We would still hang out, things were just different. Ben and his family moved to Texas so we didn’t see each other as much. We all graduated high school and took on more adult roles and situations. It wasn’t always easy, but family was constantly there. 

The last time I was with Ben was Christmas, and I am so appreciative of the gift. His family spent about two weeks in Colorado. There is no doubt this time was precious and we thank God for it.  

Early this morning, Ben left this earth quickly and without pain. He was on his way home, but God took him Home.

It hurts to know how much pain my uncle and aunt are suffering. Without a goodbye, their son was gone. My heart breaks for my Dez and Emma, his siblings, who lost their brother. I know how much they love him.

We feel the pain. It hits every nerve in our body, sweeping us off our feet. A young life, chock-full of potential, love, and promise, gone. I beg to know why, Lord, but understand I just need to trust in the plan. I think sometimes, it's better to not know. Now is the time to press in. I just pray for peace, for comfort. 

Thanks for filling my childhood with friendship, love, laughter, and memories, Ben. I'll miss you always. 

xo

Hannah