BeLike-Ben
Today would have been your 29th birthday, Ben.
Twenty-nine.
It’s strange how time keeps moving forward when a part of us feels like it stopped the day we lost you. I still picture you exactly as you were — your smile, your laugh, the way you carried yourself with confidence and kindness all at once.
Not a single day goes by that I don’t think about you.
Sometimes it’s loud — in memories that hit out of nowhere.
Sometimes it’s quiet — in the small reminders that feel like you saying, “I’m still here.”
We miss you in the big moments.
We miss you in the ordinary ones even more.
But even in the missing, you live.
You live in the stories we tell.
In the scholarship that carries your name.
In the 5k at Newark where you once led with heart.
In Pat and Katie’s wedding day.
In Dad’s strength.
In the way our family holds each other tighter now.
You live in the way we show up differently — more intentional, more aware, more loving — because we know how fragile this life is.
You are woven into who we are.
Into who I am.
Twenty-nine looks different than we imagined.
But your impact? It keeps growing.
Happy Birthday, Ben!
We carry you with us — today and every single day.
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Two and a half years.
Somehow it feels like both yesterday and a lifetime ago.
Losing Ben changed everything. Life kept moving, but a part of me—and all of us—stayed frozen in that moment when we had to learn how to live in a world without him physically here. Grief reshaped our family, our friendships, and our perspective on what truly matters. But in a way only love can manage, it also brought us closer together. Friends became family. We show up for each other more. We say the things that matter. We hold on tighter, because we now understand how fragile time really is.
Keeping Ben’s legacy alive has become part of our everyday lives—through the 5K, the scholarship, the stories we tell, and the laughter that still comes when we remember something only he would do. His friends and family carry his spirit forward in everything we do. The love people have for him didn’t end when his life did, it continues through all of us.
This year, I had the honor of marrying Pat and Katie, and even in one of life’s happiest moments, Ben was right there with us. Pat’s best friend should have been standing beside him, so my dad stepped in to honor Ben’s place, and they celebrated him by spreading some of his ashes somewhere we all knew he would have loved. A moment he would have cherished. Ben is now part of so many places and memories—woven into lives and adventures he would have been right in the middle of.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him. And somehow, he still finds ways to remind me he’s near. The clock hits 11:11 or 1:11. I catch 3:33 without trying. And more times than I can count, I’ll look up and see 227 on a license plate right in front of me. Small reminders that stop me in my tracks and make me smile through the ache—like he’s saying, I’m still here. Keep going.
Two and a half years later, the grief still lives here—but so does the love. And that love keeps pulling us forward, together, carrying his light with us wherever we go.
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As always, so beautifully said. ❤️
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Three years ago today, Ben was sworn in as an attorney.
To be sworn in is more than a ceremony. It is a promise. A promise to uphold justice, to advocate for those who feel powerless, to stand between families and the storms threatening to break them. When Ben raised his right hand that day, he wasn’t just earning a title—he was stepping fully into the purpose he had carried since childhood.
Ben didn’t come to law lightly. His drive was forged early, shaped by a childhood that forced him to grow up too fast. He used to write about a time when the world felt simple—bare feet in the yard, muddy puddles after rain, laughter that lasted until the sun slipped behind the horizon. A time when fear didn’t exist beyond scraped knees and imagined monsters in closets. And then, one day, as he said, his world stopped spinning.
The loss of our mom changed everything. Watching our family navigate grief, pain, and helplessness left a mark on him that never faded. For years, he didn’t know what his future looked like—but he knew what he felt. That helplessness became fuel. He wanted to be an example for us. He wanted to prove that we did not have to be defined by tragedy or circumstance.
Ben believed his calloused childhood made him resilient—the perfect advocate for those enduring a storm. He carried empathy, charisma, and relentless determination into everything he did. Nothing was handed to him. Every accolade was earned. Law school was hard, exhausting, and demanding—but quitting was never an option. He once said that when academics got tough, he would never give up. And he didn’t.
What mattered most to Ben was people. Families. Children. He wanted to help heal families like ours. He believed every life was precious, and that every child deserved just one more day with their mom or dad. That belief wasn’t abstract—it guided how he studied, how he served, and how he showed up for others.
The day he was sworn in wasn’t just a milestone—it was the fulfillment of a dream rooted in love, loss, and an unshakable desire to make a difference. And even though he is no longer here, his dedication still echoes. In the lives he touched. In the people he inspired. In the legacy of compassion and courage he left behind.
Ben wanted to help people more than he wanted recognition. And three years later, he still is.
#belikeben
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Well said Alexandra Paige❤️❤️❤️❤️