I don’t usually post on the weekend, but I find myself surrounded by emotions and blinded by my mortality so much that I just have to get it out.  It’s just been one of those weeks, those months and while I don’t think this is the last of it…it’s hard when it hits so very close to home.

I was rushing in, trying to get the gifts wrapped for a birthday party that we needed to be at in 30 minutes and we were 45 minutes away.  You know the everyday, life goes on and I am wrapped up in my little world of existence moment when the hubs stepped out of his office (in one of my many passes down the hall) and blocked my path.  To say I was annoyed – well yes, I didn’t have time for him to be standing there but I noticed a solitary look on his face that I’ve only seen a few times and paused without saying a word.  What I would hear next would screech my moment to a halt and change my outlook completely.

“Ben has been missing for 9 days.  He went on a dive and hasn’t been seen since – his body hasn’t been found yet, but the cadavar dogs reacted to the water so they think he is still in there.”

What do you say to that?  What words of comfort do you share with those closest to the ‘missing?’ What happened and HOW could something like this happen to someone like Ben?  To say that he was anymore special or deserving of life, is not what I mean…but it is moments like this that send me straight back to questioning my faith in more ways than one.

Ben and his family entered our lives a few years ago with a job proposition.  You see, 2 years ago Paul (Ben’s younger brother) had passed away at age 22 due to a stroke.  Paul, who was an avid rock climber and adventure enthusiast was also an organ donor and in his death provided the opportunity for others to live on.  The family started a nonprofit organization-The Paul McDaniel Foundation- to bring organ donation and stroke awareness to the community and through this my husband met the family.  Offering his time and creative energies to help get the website built, fliers and mailers created, my husband became involved with the foundation and it’s causes.

I am an organ donor and fully support its causes so to say that it didn’t take much for me to get involved with this project would be an understatement.  Over the next few months I learned the incredible story of hope and faith and love this family has as it continued to rally support in the wake of the youngest brothers death and my admiration was built.  As with many things however, it is easy to keep it separated from ‘your’ life in the since of a limited connection to the family.  That is until I met Ben.

I had heard so much about Ben and had this image of him as something bigger than life never realizing he was so much more than I had ever imagined.   Ben and I became friends on Facebook first and then when I finally had the chance to meet him in person he was as special as they come.  A big welcoming smile an easy laugh that could warm up even the coldest room and a heart as big as Texas.  He was definitely one of a rare few in this world.

Despite the tragedy that he had be through, his faith was as strong as ever and he never wavered in his belief that life had a purpose and he fully intended to enjoy and live his to the fullest.  He wasn’t one to keep to himself, no, Ben shared his spirit with everyone around and left a mark on each of us every time he was around.  You see, Ben was my age – he was 30 years old when he went into the water Wednesday night and he will forever be 30 years old in our hearts.

I have scoured the news articles, facebook, dive forums and accounts of the rescue/recovery divers attempting to bring closure to this family and I am left grappling with my own mortality and questions of “What is our purpose?” I am left struggling with how amazing and bright Ben was to everyone he met, how devoted to God and his faith he was and now…now he is ‘missing.’  I want to ask “Why?  Why God did you take him?  Why put this family through another loss?” Because to me, I cannot wrap my tiny little brain around having to bury my child, much less having to bury 2 children so very close together.  I cannot fathom being the age I am today and not having tomorrow to watch the sun rise or tell my family I love them or smell the rain or laugh at the simple pleasures in life.  I cannot understand the ‘why.’

I have read what is available, both speculation and fact and know the likelihood of his return are slim, but part of my holds on to that tiniest glimmer of hope that he is somewhere in that cave, in an air pocket holding on just a little bit longer for rescue, because I do not want to accept we are all only human and our time is limited no matter how we choose to live our life.  Because when the time comes that Ben is no longer ‘missing’ I will have to accept life is only a mere blink of an eye and then it is gone.

What we leave behind is only what we choose to do today because tomorrow may never be.

The Hub and Ben at hubbys Birthday Party