BeLike-Ben
Seven years ago yesterday, Ben stood in a moment that would become part of his legacy—not just for what he achieved, but for who he chose to be through it all.
“The calloused childhood I endured made me resilient to adversity and the perfect advocate for those enduring a storm.”
— Benjamin Campbell
That wasn’t just something he wrote… it was something he lived.
He carried the weight of losing our mom at such a young age. He walked through years that could’ve broken him—but instead, they built him. Piece by piece, he turned pain into purpose. He became the steady one, the leader, the guidepost for all of us.
He didn’t just dream—he did the work.
A 3.8 GPA.
A leader on the football field.
A presence on campus.
A future lawyer in the making.
And he made it there. He walked into Widener University Delaware Law School and became exactly who he said he would be.
Even if his time in that role was far too short… he proved something that can never be taken away:
You can come from adversity and still rise.
You can carry grief and still build a life.
You can endure the storm—and become someone who helps others through theirs.
That’s Ben.
And today, this isn’t just about looking back.
It’s about looking forward.
Because his story doesn’t end with him—it lives through us.
So whatever you’re facing right now…
whatever feels heavy, unfair, or impossible—
keep going.
Do it like Ben did.
With grit. With heart. With purpose.
Put in the work. Show up anyway.
Chase the dream—even when the odds don’t make sense.
Because Ben didn’t let his circumstances define him—he defined himself.
And if he could do it… so can we.
Today we honor what he accomplished.
Tomorrow, we carry it forward.
#BeLikeBen
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Every class I teach knows about Ben - his life and his legacy ❤️.
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. ❤️
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️