Tag: #climbing

Trying to Remember

Trying to Remember

by bbenton1064 ♥ 2 Comments

I’m not sure if you are old enough to remember the commercial, “This is your brain on drugs.” For those of you that are too young, here is brief description of how the commercial went. There was a hand holding an egg which represented your brain. The hand then takes the egg, cracks it and lets it pour into a very hot frying pan. This is to represent your brain on drugs. It is a very effective way to show what drugs can do to your brain. I feel there needs to be a new commercial, one that replaces the word drugs with grief. In this new commercial they need to crack two eggs, one for your brain and one for your heart. Let the eggs ease out slowly and begin to simmer in the heat of an old seasoned cast iron frying pan, because there are days when you feel your heart and mind are just fried. There are days when Lindsay lays so heavy on my heart and that in turn, fills my mind with grief. On these days if I slice up the normal trials and tribulations of everyday life, mix in a little drama, season with a bad day at work and  throw all that in the pan with the eggs, well you get the idea. I have tried so hard to change the recipe of grief, I have tried so hard to use different ingredients, to use a different pan, to bake instead of fry, but at the end of the day no matter how you serve it grief is still grief. It still hurts, and it can still, on any given day, be a buffet of heartache. 

The day your child passes away is a day you never want to remember, but you spend your entire life trying not to forget. My wife and I are on vacation in the mountains of North Carolina, an area we both enjoy spending time. As we started out on our adventure yesterday I wanted to go to Chimney Rock. This small town is located on HWY 74 and it is sandwiched in between the towns of Lake Lure and Bat Cave. Chimney Rock is just that, an out crop of rock from the mountain side that gives the appearance that the mountain has a chimney. You drive over three miles up the mountain on some very twisting and narrow roads to reach the base of this natural beauty. You then get in an elevator, which was built inside the mountain, and start a twenty-six story climb. Once you make your way through the gift shop you are looking up two flights of stairs to reach the top. I am not a fan of heights, never have been and never will be. It is not so much a fear of heights as it is a fear of falling and coming to a very sudden stop. I grabbed the rail with a death grip, looked at nothing but the next step and made it to the top. I very carefully made my way to the center and looked up. What an a amazing view. You can actually see three different states from the top. You can see waterfalls, lakes and the beauty that is the NC mountains, but I was still looking for what I had come to see. I had to close my eyes for a moment and there she was, in my mind, I could see Lindsay and Jarrett standing possibly right where I stood. I could see her looking at the same beautiful mountains God had put here just for us to enjoy. It was worth the climb, it was worth the fear, it was worth it for me to be where she was. I have visited this area many times, and they were special because of the many family vacations I took as a child, but today was different. Lindsay had spent a week in Lake Lure with her mom, stepdad, her brother and best friend just days before she passed away. Some of the last pictures ever taken of Lindsay were taken on this trip. I just needed to be where she once was. As I said at the beginning of this paragraph, you spend a life time trying to remember.

A Father’s Grief is an outlet for me to try and explain how I am dealing with the loss of my daughter. How her passing has not only affected me but the lives of so many.  It is a means in which I have tried to heal my own heart, while trying to help others. Through the urging of family, friends and even strangers to publish my writings I have done just that. The book “A Father’s Grief – A Year of Healing” is now available through WestBow Press. Publishing this book was a bitter sweet journey, but it was a journey worth taking, it was a risk worth taking, it is a way to remember, but most importantly it is a way to heal.   

If you would like to purchase a copy of my book you can visit westbowpress.com and simply search my name, Brad Benton. You can also click the “Book” link on this website and it will take you to the West Bow Press page to order. You may also visit my Facebook Page, A Father’s Grief – A Year of Healing and click on the Shop Now link. If you visit my page please like and share it. A portion of the sales will go directly to the Lindsay M. Benton Foundation (lindsaymbentonfoundation.com) as we continue Lindsay’s legacy and help the charities she worked with.

Steps…

Steps…

by bbenton1064 ♥ 1 Comment

The Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, 269. The Statue of Liberty, 354. The Empire State Building, 1,576. The Eiffel Tower, 1,710. When it was standing, The World Trade Center One, 2,226. The Burj Knalifa in Dubai, 2,909. In case you where wondering, this is how many steps are in each of these buildings. This is how many steps it takes to reach the top. I am sure there has been several people that have climbed each and everyone of those steps and have reach the tops of these buildings. There are so many different uses for the word “steps.” There is “Baby Steps”, where a person takes their time while learning or progressing in a project to reach their goal. The “Twelve Step Program” for people with addictions to reach sobriety. “Steps to follow” in policy and procedure to make sure every one and everything reaches compliancy. “One small step for man, one small step for mankind” when man first reached the moon on July 20, 1969. The various steps taken in a scientific experiment that reach a conclusion started from an idea. There is also “strides” or “leaps and bounds” in which a person can move forward or improve while trying to reach perfection.

What about grief? How many steps does it take to reach the top. How many steps does it take to reach the end of the journey, how many steps does it take to come or reach a final conclusion or destination. I can tell you right now the number is inconclusive, infinite, countless, incalculable, incomputable, inestimable, innumerable and exhaustless. In every building, in every program, in every accomplishment some one can tell you how many steps it takes to complete, to reach the end. In grief, that number does not exist, the amount of steps are undetermined, and to reach “grief sobriety” takes a “lifetime step” program. (If you have been through a “Twelve Step Program” for addiction, please understand I am not making light of the daily battle you have with the addiction, I am only using it as an example. I commend you for your sobriety.) There are some days when you feel you have to climb all 9,044 steps of every building listed above just to get out of bed, not to mention function throughout the day. On the other hand there are some days you take one step, think of that loved ones smile and you have reach the top. Everyday is a step, every year is a step, every birthday, and every anniversary is a step. Every holiday is a step, every wedding you go to, every picture of a new born is a step. Everyday when I leave my neighborhood is a step. Every day when I drive past where Lindsay’s car was sitting is a step. Life, is a step. Everyday we climb the staircase of grief never knowing how many steps we will have to take that day. It seems that the steps we are taking are always going down.

There are days I think of all the other steps that have taken me and my family on this journey. The steps that have been taken to make the entrance of our neighborhood safer. The steps taken to try and save Lindsay’s life at the accident and at the hospital. The steps that total strangers took to be by her side after the accident. The steps that were taken to allow Lindsay to fulfill her dream of saving lives. The steps we, as her family, have taken to start a foundation in her name. The steps that so many  family members, friends and strangers have taken to be by our sides. The steps that have been taken to bring awareness to organ donation and registration. The steps that were taken to mend broken hearts and lives. The steps we took, together, on the beach. There have been many positive and uplifting steps taken from this tragedy. These are the steps I try to climb everyday.

Most of the steps I have referred to above are hypothetical, or metaphoric, but in my home there are thirteen real steps, thirteen steps that lead up to Lindsay’s room. These   were the hardest steps I have every climbed after Lindsay passed away. It took me weeks before I could walk up those stairs and could not do it alone. I have gone up those thirteen steps twice in the past 762 days. Once with my wife and once with Lindsay’s mom, I knew in my heart there was a third person walking with me, Lindsay. You see, you don’t walk up or take all these steps of grief alone, your loved one is right by your side taking every step with you. They give you the strength to carry on, the strength to put one foot in front of the other. I know this, I believe this and I know one day, to see Lindsay again, I will only have to take one more step.