Ben’s big life

For Ben’s 21st we went for a bush walk – the bush is a place where Ben always feels close, as if he is just running ahead as usual. It was a beautiful day, there were lots of little skinks and swallows soaring high at Sheoak Falls. As we neared the end, Katy had gone ahead and we saw her staring up, and then she turned back to us with her face alight. There was a kookaburra, close and very still and watching us intently.

Ben first met kookaburras began when he was 3 on the balcony at Magnetic Island, then he found a kookaburra soft toy in an op shop in Rockhampton a few days later, who became his favourite friend “Kooky”. He loved all birds, but kookaburras the best.

Perhaps….

Ben, you were fun.
You were my cool little cousin who I got to play make-believe with. You looked up to me, and you made me feel so special for it.

I wish everything wasn’t blurred. I have scattered images of you in my head – I can’t tell if they’re my own memories, stories others have told, or things I’ve made up. I remember that I loved you. I still do.

I remember that your hands smelled weird. I’ve never mentioned it to other people – it didn’t feel appropriate, given the circumstances. But that means that it’s my memory, not a story from someone else.

I also remember running through the forest at Aireys Inlet (was it a forest or were we just small?), reenacting Pirates of the Caribbean.

I wish I knew you now. I wish I got to see you grow up, and grow up with you. I wish I knew how you would have celebrated your 21st birthday. You might have gone out with friends, maybe Katy and I would have been invited to come along. Maybe you would have had a superhero-themed dress-I party, or gone away to New Zealand with friends, maybe they would have been high school friends or uni friends, people you never got to meet.
I wonder what high school would have been like for you. Socialising seemed to come so easy to you – would it have been the same when you were a teenager? Would you have been the perfect student? Rebelled against the rules?
You had so much ahead of you. It’s not fair that you didn’t get to do whatever you were going to do, become whoever you were going to be. It’s not fair that you’re stuck in our minds as a ten-year-old boy who never got to grow up.
But maybe that means you’re like Peter Pan, maybe you’re off in Neverland fighting pirates and crocodiles, leading a group of lost kids. I think that would suit you.

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s big.

When I think about Ben, I remember how lucky I was to have had a brother who was also my friend. We could make up stories together for hours, and he would always, always make me laugh.
Not that we didn’t fight. There was that one incident with the hammer…
He would stir me up sometimes and I remember mum saying ‘Katy just sit on him. You might not be for much longer but you’re still bigger than him.’
I imagine he would have ended up being taller than me. Not like his cousins, not with a 4’11 grandmother on Dad’s side, but maybe he would’ve inherited some Everist genes too.
It will always hurt to know that I can’t call Ben up and vent about life, or to just go and get a coffee together. That at family events he isn’t there to hideaway in the corner, or to tear up the dance floor with.
Sometimes, if I let my mind wander, I can almost see him on the periphery, giggling and dancing away. Other times I can envision him so clearly, I forget whether I’m thinking about something that happened before or after he died.
I wish more people in my life had had the chance to know Ben. He was truly unlike anyone else I have ever met, which makes his memory all the more precious.
I’m not much of a hugger, but I cannot wait to give him the biggest cuddle when I finally see him again. Until then, I’ll keep having adventures, trying new things and taking risks, and know he’ll always have my back, as he has all of yours.

Thinking if you today, and remembering with tears and a smile.
Those famous nail clippers you swallowed.
They were being kept for today. 💜

Dear Liz and Colin and Katy,

I have enjoyed reading everyone’s stories about Ben and seeing all the photos. I can’t seem to find the photos I had in mind, my filing system is appalling/non-existent, maybe they will turn up and I can send them to you another time. I’m sending you a photo of a younger Ben playing with trucks …. very happily and completely in his own world.

Here is a memory I have of an older Ben:

In 2012 we had a party at a lawn bowling club, and you guys all came along. It was getting pretty loud and chaotic inside, everyone talking at the top of their voices and dancing to the band. I went outside for some air and to have a quiet conversation with a friend.

I saw Ben standing on the edge of the bowling green, swinging on a handrail, I think he was waiting to go home. I caught his eye, and as he looked up he gave me a wry little smile. Probably he was a bit bored and impatient to get a move on, but in that moment something about that smile seemed so quintessentially ‘Ben’. That smile is very firmly in my memory, and it always will be.

Lots and lots of xox Sal

At Aireys, in the court yard (2003)

Mum and I took Ben to McDonald’s, he was 3. He got a happy meal and the toy was a footy mascot. He opened his and it was a Hawk. He said, “ Not F’ in Hawthorn!” and threw it across the restaurant!
We didn’t know he knew that word but we were proud he knew the team to hate, even if he supported the wrong one!

I still remember the first time I saw Ben at primary school. We must have been in grade one or two I think. I heard some people excitedly talking down the long hallway. With a new dinosaur toy in hand and followers on his heels, Ben walked outside to enjoy the recess sunshine.

Over our time in primary school, Ben and I grew to be best friends. Ben would often come around to my house and we would play Halo (he so badly wanted an Xbox). I would tease Ben when we played, jumping around so he couldn’t get me. The whole time he would hysterically laugh, as he often did.

In class, Ben, I and others would draw various, outlandish, pictures of battles or cars and submarines with numerous futuristic upgrades. It was quite common for me to copy some of Ben’s creative ideas as they were so cool.

I have so many more memories of the great times we shared. Ben’s smile, laughter, creativity and positivity continue to inspire me. Not a single day has passed where I haven’t thought about Ben. To have known him was a privilege and to call him my best friend is an honour.

Love, Darcy.

I’m not sure when Ben found out about the existence of the DS, but I do know that we always talked about buying our own. At night we would conspire from the bunk bed how we might get one. Our plans would never come to fruition, but I don’t think Ben really minded. Always a resourceful child, he would sit in bed twiddling his thumbs for hours, quite content with his imaginary console. Although this fact is disputed, I seem to remember it was made of cardboard, of all things.
On this fantastical device he could play any game that had ever existed, and even better, he could make his own, without limitation.

Ben and Alexis, on holidays in Port Fairy.

Bath time was always such a special play time! Alexis and Ben in the tiny Mercer Pde bath in 2002

I remember sitting in your sunny courtyard at Middle Park in summer, when Ben was still a tiny baby. Colin had made some delicious lemon granita that we were all enjoying and of course Ben wanted some too! Liz gave him a tiny spoonful – and the face he made was just hilarious, the very image of ‘wow that’s sour!’. Being the adventurous boy he was though (even as a tiny baby!) he immediately went back for more. I loved Ben very much and love you all very much too. I think about him often. Eleanor xxx

Farm holiday. Ben horse riding without fear

Ben’s 3rd birthday celebration with the best dinosaur birthday cake ever!

An avid lover of creativity and all creatures. Combining the two, we were fortunate to have the wonderous love Ben brought to the brown dogs, to us and so many around.
He was so loved x

Remembering sharing guitar lessons with Ben…he’d whole heartedly pour himself into the session with a beautiful focus…such a gorgeous soul, so open and curious. 💙

The beginning…

Ben was born 6am on 6 November, 2001. It was an ‘en caul’ birth which means the amniotic sac is intact (apparently this is extremely rare, only 1 in 80,000 births). Once freed, he was very fat and round and extremely red. And calm, and cuddly, with big blue eyes.

Katy’s reaction was utter wonderment.

I didn’t know Ben. I wish I had. But Liz was/is a fabulous friend. What I remember most about what Liz told me about Ben was his love of the Tardis. That resonated with me. My sons also loved Dr Who. I love that everyone is celebrating a wonderful life.

Crazy how time flies. Sadly with each passing year my memories of my time with Ben slowly fade. But one thing that I will never forget about Ben was his Joy and the happiness he always displayed.
As a young kid going to school with Ben I could never put my finger on it, but Ben always made things seem so much more fun when he was around. I remember at one of his birthday’s doing a treasure hunt and the great fun we had and achievement of finding the treasure. Or the time we went to the leisure link pool and goofed around pretending we were Ben 10 characters (obviously Ben had to be Ben 10 ). Every time I picture him now he is smiling with that contagious smile he had. I miss you Ben, and can’t help to think what life could have been like if you were still here, but I will never forget you, and try to keep your memory alive by brightening up others with a smile, just like you.

When he was very small Ben had a friend called Dragon Boy and we heard all about him – he had armour made of cardboard, his dad was Freddie Mercury, he smoked a lot, and had accidents on his skate board that meant he had to stay in hospital for 47 weeks, multiple times… he was also responsible for all those frequent spillages and breakages around the house…

Ben was full of fun and curiosity. On the day we went to Manly. He was running along the path playing some game with a stick but he still managed to look out to see a dolphin swimming in the evening light.

I remember one Christmas Day, Ben was so excited to get a digger, kept saying it over and over. Then he was so excited to go for a swim, he couldn’t stop dancing to get his bathers on 💜

Bright, creative and adventurous. I loved the way Ben brought his focused attention to what he created with Lego or painting and drawing. I have fond memories of our trip to see Flight of the Conchords in Melbourne

I had the pleasure of caring for Ben at Queensberry Street and we bonded instantly. My favourite days were the ones that Ben was in my room. Ben, you had the most beautiful smile, your whole face lit up, I will never forget it. I feel so blessed for the time I spent with you, Katy, Liz and Colin.

Such a great way to celebrate Ben’s Big Life x
Still remember when you decided it was time for surfing adventures. We were all talking surfing and Ben’s eyes were popping out of his head seeing how much Lego 4 Boys had accumulated

Ben was definitely a Treasure, light, bright and full of life…. So unable to believe it’s been 10 years since he’s been gone. It feels like the blink of an eye. Loving thoughts and memories of a gorgeous young man xx

The Why
When you died you took a piece of me with you. It felt like I lost everything; meaning; purpose; function. Only memory remained and memory was pain. I didn’t know if I could go forward, but time did that for me. One step at a time in an unknown direction.
I couldn’t look away and could only walk through cold places I didn’t want to go. I had to confront the pointless. And yet your life could not mean nothing. If there was no meaning now then there could have been no meaning in your life and I could not hold that to be true. That was the first conscious step
Step by step, pull it apart, examine it, put it back together, try and see if it worked, if it made sense.
After a time when I could gaze into the wound that you left behind, I could almost see something there. Something sharp edged, cutting and heavy. When you died you left me with some of you. But I could not carry it. It was not you. It was too heavy for me. What had been so bright and vital in you was too great a responsibility for me. And yet you had given it to me.
Step by step, pull it apart, examine it, put it back together, try and see if it worked, if it made sense.
In the quiet of your leaving the part of you became a gift. I will never carry it the way you would have, but I will carry it. I hope I can show it to the world, even if only in pale reflection of you and the joy you would have brought.
As I carry it I realise it isn’t heavy, the sharp edges are smoothed. It is a gift. And I love you for it.

Ben was a treasure. I could connect with Ben in the world of imagination where our fantasies aligned and creativity was celebrated. He encouraged me to indulge in my yearning to stomp around and roar like a dinosaur well into an age where such things were deemed abnormal.
I remember acting out this exact scenario in the courtyard at the Aireys Inlet beach house. He would pause between roars to flash his expressive grin as I challenged him with my loudest, deepest throat wrenching roar in an attempt to impress him further. We would replicate the plodding walk of a T Rex as best we could whilst circling each other with predatory intent. One of us would then initiate the attack in which I would inevitably lift him up, place him down and sneak in a couple of T Rex tickles to hear his infectious laughter.
These memories bring such a mixture of fondness and sadness but I thank Ben for the great impact he has had on me.
I love you and miss you so much Ben.

Such a tactile and intimate photo of Ben with Liz, so calm and close as they share bottle feeding time

We will never forget Ben his zest for life, his love of the outdoors. We remember happy days together walking, camping and playing on the beach with the dogs. Two very happy families together with our lives ahead of us. We miss Ben and all of you and will never forgot those sublime Australian days together when all was well with the world and time stood still.

When Ben was still a littley I came for dinner at Middle Park. We were all sitting around the table and I was next to Ben. I remember thinking how incredibly cute and cuddly he was and how marvelous it was he was tucking into the variety of delicious food that was on offer.
Every now and then I would join Liz, Colin, Ben and Katy at Aireys for holidays. Days were so fun and happy and filled with trips to the beach, walks in the bush, puzzles, books, movies, music, op shopping for treasures, laughter, conversation and delicious food. Liz would sit up in bed reading to Ben and Katy who had snuggled in either side, listening enraptured.
Ben was a deep thinker, had a big imagination (Dragon Boy was a dear friend) and was clearly happy to stride his own path. Though I wondered how it possibly could have happened, I got quite a giggle out of, and was impressed, that from an early age he broke ranks and chose to assign his footy allegiances with a club other than that of his parents! And he loved to move. I can see him wriggling and swiveling from side to side on one foot as he talked to Liz and Colin at the kitchen table, who were smiling as they listened.
Ben was such a sweet, funny, beautiful, joyous person and joy surrounded him.
Darling Ben, we think of you so often and miss you. You loved so well and are so loved.

Dear Liz, Colin & Katy

I got to know Ben in a backwards fashion….
the boy who declared his presence to the ocean, his “staff” in hand and his hand on hip, radiating life and connecting with nature…..and informed the ocean that he would be back.

We met after he had died…..after you had had to let him pass into the nameless mystery that we call death.
Liz, you galvanised every ounce of strength to protect your family, you were the oak, refusing to fall in case you all fell into the abyss that swirls around you in savage loss.
Colin, you took your heart and soul and went into the deep to find your boy and touch the places where you could still protect and play and imagine.
Katy, you found the courage to name the need for Ben to go and light the way for your brother with your voice, you watched with eagle eye as your parents were ravaged with pain, you worked like a Trojan to find your own words and meanings and purpose within this immeasurable change of all you had expected life would be…

I feel as though I have been in the Tardis with you, travelling through any nook or cranny of time and space that sang or drew you to it in order to find connection, wisdom, peace, understanding, magic, life.

I know that love has no definable dimensions….. nor does the body confine what we might loosely call a soul. We exist on so many levels all at once. Forwards and backwards have no meaning. Absence and presence can exist all at once.

I saw magic in the sea as this big soul was released. I do not need to have met Ben in his skin to know that his was a “Big Life” lived with big people who loved and love him beyond measure.

I know that this ten years has demanded nothing short of everything you are to live on from the day that Ben departed his physical life. I am honoured that you have shared some of this with me and have the deepest respect for the love you give to each other that holds you steady, the commitment you have to living life fully and generously.

Thank you for sharing your boy with me. The boy with the stick and the ocean has been a calling to life for so many people as well as me.

Love xxx

I used to babysit Ben and Katy in Middle Park.
One day I was holding him with his bum on the bench while I got him a drink and a mouse ran right beside him! I was terrified but brave Ben was completely unfazed. We love Ben and think of him often.

There is so much to say about Ben. His cheeky grin, sparkling eyes, and his incredibly curious nature. But one of my fondest memories is when you tickled him or he found something amusing- his chuckle was so infectious, so individual, so Ben.
Ben has never left our heart.
He is and always will be a part of us. We miss him.

Alexis, Katy, Angus, Ben and Tom, all holding hands in the backyard at Mercer Pde. They were such a tribe, all playing and mucking around together.

Dear Ben
We miss you and think of you often.
We used to visit you and Katy at your Middle Park home, eat some toasted cheese sandwiches and head over to the Fort Park to climb and play. You and Issy were only little but Katy, Tom & Brigi raced around with Arnold.

I remember asking you who you barracked for (such a thing) and you looked me straight in the eye and said Collingwood- well that set the whole family on our toes – how could you not barrack for Geelong!
It came to be known that you really preferred soccer anyway.

We loved having you all to visit at Addis or us to visit you all at Aireys. You loved riding Tom’s little bike in the driveway – you all just played happily – the differences in age were irrelevant.

Ben you are missed – how could you not be – a little force of determination and spirit.

You left the most indelible hole in all our hearts –

I know you would be proud of Katy, Colin and Liz – they have honoured you, continue to love you and we all enjoy the beautiful memories that are uniquely you.

Time doesn’t make it easier we just learn to make our hearts bigger to carry the memories of those we love that have left us – we carry you Ben xxx

I remember when I found out I was technically related to Ben through mutual family marriage by running into Colin and Liz at a family birthday party and being shocked. Funnily enough It was after that run in that I became much closer friends with Ben.

The fondest funny memory I have is one time when we were playing on the monkey bars in grade 4 together and I would pretend to tickle Ben by doing the tickling motion with my hands close to his arm pits, but not actually touching him, and out of anticipation he would laugh and jump off the monkey bars just before he got to the end and tell me to stop whilst laughing really hard. This happened around 4 or 5 times before he jumped off and started to chase me, but not before I started running and ran straight into one of the poles holding up the monkey bars which caused him to drop to the ground and laugh to tears.

I also recall when I was at his house and I’d bring my sonic screwdriver over and we’d both pretend to be the doctor and when his parents weren’t home would also watch episodes of Doctor Who. So much so that because we were both so into it, sometimes we would theorise as to what could have happened, had things in episodes played out differently.

Ben was such a creative person and someone who truly influenced my life and I still think about every single day, whether it be through cherishing memories or as a form of motivation. Miss you everyday, mate, hope all is going well up there.

Connor ❤️

The innocence and joy of children. I love this pic.

I remember Ben for many trips to museums, to parks, to the sea, for Lego strewn across the floor and Ben’s joy in putting it together into strange objects; Buzz Lightyear flashing and emitting electronic phrases as Ben recounted an incomprehensible story about the toy’s adventures. For birthday parties, weekends away and bathtubs full of giggling girls and one boy at Airey’s Inlet. For his elemental naming ceremony at the park when Ben was one, scrambling over the wooden adventure playground in the wind.

Ben had charm and an enthusiastic sense of fun. He wondered at the natural world and his capacity to make sense of life through creating stories was striking. His focus and self-sufficiency made him an unusual child. I always felt that he would do something that none of us could predict. And not knowing what that would have been, not being allowed to watch him step over from childhood into adolescence and adulthood, is too great a loss.

Liz, Colin and Katy, you were and are truly wonderful parents and sister to Ben. His childhood was the best. A sister to share his games and imagination; parents who laughed with him and trusted his capacity to forge a way through the world. He was given what he needed and little that he didn’t, adored by friends, family, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.

The story of Ben’s big life has touched us all. It helps us to see how fully and creatively he lived it and to understand that the gift of his life is not extinguished by the sadness of death.

Memories of your beautiful smiling boy will always warm me. With big love, Sarah

(Here’s a picture of Ben, looking like a cherub, with those huge dark lashed eyes.)

I have a distinct memory of leaving the cinema once and Ben turning around to give us a cheeky grin. I don’t remember why but I’ll never forget that cheeky grin. It’s the image I hold in my memory of him and the times we would all go to the movies together .

Ben, Katy and Alexis (May 2002)

Loved Liz’s Ben stories – lego, dinosaurs, super heroes, his toy car she crushed….. 🤭! Ben was a constant in our DPCD life as was his school pic with that gorgeous smile 😊. Love you guys ❤️

When Ben was 3 and Katy 6, we headed up the east coast camping for a couple of months. One day we picnicked by a river, nowhere special. Ben told me very seriously “I am going to have a big life. A big, big life.” It became a phrase we used as a family, whenever we had to think about fear and risk and adventure and opportunities. Choosing to have a Big Life.

The Story.
With a stick in his hand Ben could unlock worlds. He would frequently spend time in the garden with a stick, any stick, parrying, dodging, thrusting, spinning, combining sword and staff movements, all accompanied by grunts, whoops, yells and certainly a fair amount of explosions. He seemed so unbound in those moments, like all doors were open to him.
Shortly after he died I had gone to bed weighed down by unrelenting grief and then…
The air in the room became heavier, almost steamy. There was a sense of thick greenery and increased humidity and the air smelling fresher and somehow different. Ahead through the mottled light there was a huge mass, a large creature that had not existed for millions of years, except in the imagination of children. I touched it and it was warm and moving as long breaths were drawn in and out. I could feel small bumps and the skin was surprisingly supple. Who had guided me here?
And then…
I was on the plain outside of Helm’s Deep, in the midst of an Orc army. I was in ill-fitting, rough-hewn armour, which jabbed my skin and smelled of sour rust. I had a large spear and I could feel its splintered crudeness. It was raining and I could feel a drip, drip, drip down my back, which dampened my underclothes and was freezing, despite the heat and the smell of the surrounding army. Who was laughing beside me?
And then…
I was staring out of the door of a blue box, spinning and tumbling around a sun that was going nova. Which Doctor was I with? All of them, but who was showing me?
And then…
I was high above the Earth and warm rain was pelting me, while lightning flashed. Time stopped mid flash and the entire world below was illuminated in whitest light, every detail visible; mountains, valleys, dunes, forests, rivers, seas. Who was roaring back to the sky as they rode the lightning?
And then…
I was standing at the edge of the 3600 sectors of the known universe. All that was known was behind me and all that was unknown was ahead of me. Beaches undreamed of to be walked on. The dark was cold and deep, but I was bathed in the green glow of willpower and heard the intake of breath that marked the overcoming of fear. Who was leading me?
All the time it was my Little Prince, who laughs amongst the stars. Unrestrained by our world. All time, all space, all imagination, all dreams and further.
And then…
I was back, but amongst the despair was the hope.
I was left, not alone, but with the promise of every great story: to be continued…

There are no words for such a loss.
And in the cavity left behind,
bitterness may bloom.

Or instead

We can choose to cultivate love
And remember how lucky we are
To have known him at all.

When you came to my black house in Rye and helped me build the labyrinth.

Ben drew this when he was about 4. It is a picture of Chloe (the Bratz doll) with a huge machine gun and a pet dragon or dinosaur called Tom. Kind of says it all, really.

For Ben’s 21st we went for a bush walk – the bush is a place where Ben always feels close, as if he is just running ahead as usual. It was a beautiful day, there were lots of little skinks and swallows soaring high at Sheoak Falls. As we neared the end, Katy had gone ahead and we saw her staring up, and then she turned back to us with her face alight. There was a kookaburra, close and very still and watching us intently.

Ben first met kookaburras began when he was 3 on the balcony at Magnetic Island, then he found a kookaburra soft toy in an op shop in Rockhampton a few days later, who became his favourite friend “Kooky”. He loved all birds, but kookaburras the best.

Perhaps….

Ben, you were fun.
You were my cool little cousin who I got to play make-believe with. You looked up to me, and you made me feel so special for it.

I wish everything wasn’t blurred. I have scattered images of you in my head – I can’t tell if they’re my own memories, stories others have told, or things I’ve made up. I remember that I loved you. I still do.

I remember that your hands smelled weird. I’ve never mentioned it to other people – it didn’t feel appropriate, given the circumstances. But that means that it’s my memory, not a story from someone else.

I also remember running through the forest at Aireys Inlet (was it a forest or were we just small?), reenacting Pirates of the Caribbean.

I wish I knew you now. I wish I got to see you grow up, and grow up with you. I wish I knew how you would have celebrated your 21st birthday. You might have gone out with friends, maybe Katy and I would have been invited to come along. Maybe you would have had a superhero-themed dress-I party, or gone away to New Zealand with friends, maybe they would have been high school friends or uni friends, people you never got to meet.
I wonder what high school would have been like for you. Socialising seemed to come so easy to you – would it have been the same when you were a teenager? Would you have been the perfect student? Rebelled against the rules?
You had so much ahead of you. It’s not fair that you didn’t get to do whatever you were going to do, become whoever you were going to be. It’s not fair that you’re stuck in our minds as a ten-year-old boy who never got to grow up.
But maybe that means you’re like Peter Pan, maybe you’re off in Neverland fighting pirates and crocodiles, leading a group of lost kids. I think that would suit you.

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s big.

When I think about Ben, I remember how lucky I was to have had a brother who was also my friend. We could make up stories together for hours, and he would always, always make me laugh.
Not that we didn’t fight. There was that one incident with the hammer…
He would stir me up sometimes and I remember mum saying ‘Katy just sit on him. You might not be for much longer but you’re still bigger than him.’
I imagine he would have ended up being taller than me. Not like his cousins, not with a 4’11 grandmother on Dad’s side, but maybe he would’ve inherited some Everist genes too.
It will always hurt to know that I can’t call Ben up and vent about life, or to just go and get a coffee together. That at family events he isn’t there to hideaway in the corner, or to tear up the dance floor with.
Sometimes, if I let my mind wander, I can almost see him on the periphery, giggling and dancing away. Other times I can envision him so clearly, I forget whether I’m thinking about something that happened before or after he died.
I wish more people in my life had had the chance to know Ben. He was truly unlike anyone else I have ever met, which makes his memory all the more precious.
I’m not much of a hugger, but I cannot wait to give him the biggest cuddle when I finally see him again. Until then, I’ll keep having adventures, trying new things and taking risks, and know he’ll always have my back, as he has all of yours.

Thinking if you today, and remembering with tears and a smile.
Those famous nail clippers you swallowed.
They were being kept for today. 💜

Dear Liz and Colin and Katy,

I have enjoyed reading everyone’s stories about Ben and seeing all the photos. I can’t seem to find the photos I had in mind, my filing system is appalling/non-existent, maybe they will turn up and I can send them to you another time. I’m sending you a photo of a younger Ben playing with trucks …. very happily and completely in his own world.

Here is a memory I have of an older Ben:

In 2012 we had a party at a lawn bowling club, and you guys all came along. It was getting pretty loud and chaotic inside, everyone talking at the top of their voices and dancing to the band. I went outside for some air and to have a quiet conversation with a friend.

I saw Ben standing on the edge of the bowling green, swinging on a handrail, I think he was waiting to go home. I caught his eye, and as he looked up he gave me a wry little smile. Probably he was a bit bored and impatient to get a move on, but in that moment something about that smile seemed so quintessentially ‘Ben’. That smile is very firmly in my memory, and it always will be.

Lots and lots of xox Sal

At Aireys, in the court yard (2003)

Mum and I took Ben to McDonald’s, he was 3. He got a happy meal and the toy was a footy mascot. He opened his and it was a Hawk. He said, “ Not F’ in Hawthorn!” and threw it across the restaurant!
We didn’t know he knew that word but we were proud he knew the team to hate, even if he supported the wrong one!

I still remember the first time I saw Ben at primary school. We must have been in grade one or two I think. I heard some people excitedly talking down the long hallway. With a new dinosaur toy in hand and followers on his heels, Ben walked outside to enjoy the recess sunshine.

Over our time in primary school, Ben and I grew to be best friends. Ben would often come around to my house and we would play Halo (he so badly wanted an Xbox). I would tease Ben when we played, jumping around so he couldn’t get me. The whole time he would hysterically laugh, as he often did.

In class, Ben, I and others would draw various, outlandish, pictures of battles or cars and submarines with numerous futuristic upgrades. It was quite common for me to copy some of Ben’s creative ideas as they were so cool.

I have so many more memories of the great times we shared. Ben’s smile, laughter, creativity and positivity continue to inspire me. Not a single day has passed where I haven’t thought about Ben. To have known him was a privilege and to call him my best friend is an honour.

Love, Darcy.

I’m not sure when Ben found out about the existence of the DS, but I do know that we always talked about buying our own. At night we would conspire from the bunk bed how we might get one. Our plans would never come to fruition, but I don’t think Ben really minded. Always a resourceful child, he would sit in bed twiddling his thumbs for hours, quite content with his imaginary console. Although this fact is disputed, I seem to remember it was made of cardboard, of all things.
On this fantastical device he could play any game that had ever existed, and even better, he could make his own, without limitation.

Ben and Alexis, on holidays in Port Fairy.

Bath time was always such a special play time! Alexis and Ben in the tiny Mercer Pde bath in 2002

Ben’s 3rd birthday celebration with the best dinosaur birthday cake ever!

Farm holiday. Ben horse riding without fear

I remember sitting in your sunny courtyard at Middle Park in summer, when Ben was still a tiny baby. Colin had made some delicious lemon granita that we were all enjoying and of course Ben wanted some too! Liz gave him a tiny spoonful – and the face he made was just hilarious, the very image of ‘wow that’s sour!’. Being the adventurous boy he was though (even as a tiny baby!) he immediately went back for more. I loved Ben very much and love you all very much too. I think about him often. Eleanor xxx

An avid lover of creativity and all creatures. Combining the two, we were fortunate to have the wonderous love Ben brought to the brown dogs, to us and so many around.
He was so loved x

The beginning…

Ben was born 6am on 6 November, 2001. It was an ‘en caul’ birth which means the amniotic sac is intact (apparently this is extremely rare, only 1 in 80,000 births). Once freed, he was very fat and round and extremely red. And calm, and cuddly, with big blue eyes.

Katy’s reaction was utter wonderment.

Remembering sharing guitar lessons with Ben…he’d whole heartedly pour himself into the session with a beautiful focus…such a gorgeous soul, so open and curious. 💙

I didn’t know Ben. I wish I had. But Liz was/is a fabulous friend. What I remember most about what Liz told me about Ben was his love of the Tardis. That resonated with me. My sons also loved Dr Who. I love that everyone is celebrating a wonderful life.

Crazy how time flies. Sadly with each passing year my memories of my time with Ben slowly fade. But one thing that I will never forget about Ben was his Joy and the happiness he always displayed.
As a young kid going to school with Ben I could never put my finger on it, but Ben always made things seem so much more fun when he was around. I remember at one of his birthday’s doing a treasure hunt and the great fun we had and achievement of finding the treasure. Or the time we went to the leisure link pool and goofed around pretending we were Ben 10 characters (obviously Ben had to be Ben 10 ). Every time I picture him now he is smiling with that contagious smile he had. I miss you Ben, and can’t help to think what life could have been like if you were still here, but I will never forget you, and try to keep your memory alive by brightening up others with a smile, just like you.

Ben was full of fun and curiosity. On the day we went to Manly. He was running along the path playing some game with a stick but he still managed to look out to see a dolphin swimming in the evening light.

I remember one Christmas Day, Ben was so excited to get a digger, kept saying it over and over. Then he was so excited to go for a swim, he couldn’t stop dancing to get his bathers on 💜

Bright, creative and adventurous. I loved the way Ben brought his focused attention to what he created with Lego or painting and drawing. I have fond memories of our trip to see Flight of the Conchords in Melbourne

When he was very small Ben had a friend called Dragon Boy and we heard all about him – he had armour made of cardboard, his dad was Freddie Mercury, he smoked a lot, and had accidents on his skate board that meant he had to stay in hospital for 47 weeks, multiple times… he was also responsible for all those frequent spillages and breakages around the house…

Such a great way to celebrate Ben’s Big Life x
Still remember when you decided it was time for surfing adventures. We were all talking surfing and Ben’s eyes were popping out of his head seeing how much Lego 4 Boys had accumulated

Such a tactile and intimate photo of Ben with Liz, so calm and close as they share bottle feeding time

I had the pleasure of caring for Ben at Queensberry Street and we bonded instantly. My favourite days were the ones that Ben was in my room. Ben, you had the most beautiful smile, your whole face lit up, I will never forget it. I feel so blessed for the time I spent with you, Katy, Liz and Colin.

We will never forget Ben his zest for life, his love of the outdoors. We remember happy days together walking, camping and playing on the beach with the dogs. Two very happy families together with our lives ahead of us. We miss Ben and all of you and will never forgot those sublime Australian days together when all was well with the world and time stood still.

When Ben was still a littley I came for dinner at Middle Park. We were all sitting around the table and I was next to Ben. I remember thinking how incredibly cute and cuddly he was and how marvelous it was he was tucking into the variety of delicious food that was on offer.
Every now and then I would join Liz, Colin, Ben and Katy at Aireys for holidays. Days were so fun and happy and filled with trips to the beach, walks in the bush, puzzles, books, movies, music, op shopping for treasures, laughter, conversation and delicious food. Liz would sit up in bed reading to Ben and Katy who had snuggled in either side, listening enraptured.
Ben was a deep thinker, had a big imagination (Dragon Boy was a dear friend) and was clearly happy to stride his own path. Though I wondered how it possibly could have happened, I got quite a giggle out of, and was impressed, that from an early age he broke ranks and chose to assign his footy allegiances with a club other than that of his parents! And he loved to move. I can see him wriggling and swiveling from side to side on one foot as he talked to Liz and Colin at the kitchen table, who were smiling as they listened.
Ben was such a sweet, funny, beautiful, joyous person and joy surrounded him.
Darling Ben, we think of you so often and miss you. You loved so well and are so loved.

Ben was a treasure. I could connect with Ben in the world of imagination where our fantasies aligned and creativity was celebrated. He encouraged me to indulge in my yearning to stomp around and roar like a dinosaur well into an age where such things were deemed abnormal.
I remember acting out this exact scenario in the courtyard at the Aireys Inlet beach house. He would pause between roars to flash his expressive grin as I challenged him with my loudest, deepest throat wrenching roar in an attempt to impress him further. We would replicate the plodding walk of a T Rex as best we could whilst circling each other with predatory intent. One of us would then initiate the attack in which I would inevitably lift him up, place him down and sneak in a couple of T Rex tickles to hear his infectious laughter.
These memories bring such a mixture of fondness and sadness but I thank Ben for the great impact he has had on me.
I love you and miss you so much Ben.

The Why
When you died you took a piece of me with you. It felt like I lost everything; meaning; purpose; function. Only memory remained and memory was pain. I didn’t know if I could go forward, but time did that for me. One step at a time in an unknown direction.
I couldn’t look away and could only walk through cold places I didn’t want to go. I had to confront the pointless. And yet your life could not mean nothing. If there was no meaning now then there could have been no meaning in your life and I could not hold that to be true. That was the first conscious step
Step by step, pull it apart, examine it, put it back together, try and see if it worked, if it made sense.
After a time when I could gaze into the wound that you left behind, I could almost see something there. Something sharp edged, cutting and heavy. When you died you left me with some of you. But I could not carry it. It was not you. It was too heavy for me. What had been so bright and vital in you was too great a responsibility for me. And yet you had given it to me.
Step by step, pull it apart, examine it, put it back together, try and see if it worked, if it made sense.
In the quiet of your leaving the part of you became a gift. I will never carry it the way you would have, but I will carry it. I hope I can show it to the world, even if only in pale reflection of you and the joy you would have brought.
As I carry it I realise it isn’t heavy, the sharp edges are smoothed. It is a gift. And I love you for it.

Ben was definitely a Treasure, light, bright and full of life…. So unable to believe it’s been 10 years since he’s been gone. It feels like the blink of an eye. Loving thoughts and memories of a gorgeous young man xx

Alexis, Katy, Angus, Ben and Tom, all holding hands in the backyard at Mercer Pde. They were such a tribe, all playing and mucking around together.

Dear Ben
We miss you and think of you often.
We used to visit you and Katy at your Middle Park home, eat some toasted cheese sandwiches and head over to the Fort Park to climb and play. You and Issy were only little but Katy, Tom & Brigi raced around with Arnold.

I remember asking you who you barracked for (such a thing) and you looked me straight in the eye and said Collingwood- well that set the whole family on our toes – how could you not barrack for Geelong!
It came to be known that you really preferred soccer anyway.

We loved having you all to visit at Addis or us to visit you all at Aireys. You loved riding Tom’s little bike in the driveway – you all just played happily – the differences in age were irrelevant.

Ben you are missed – how could you not be – a little force of determination and spirit.

You left the most indelible hole in all our hearts –

I know you would be proud of Katy, Colin and Liz – they have honoured you, continue to love you and we all enjoy the beautiful memories that are uniquely you.

Time doesn’t make it easier we just learn to make our hearts bigger to carry the memories of those we love that have left us – we carry you Ben xxx

There is so much to say about Ben. His cheeky grin, sparkling eyes, and his incredibly curious nature. But one of my fondest memories is when you tickled him or he found something amusing- his chuckle was so infectious, so individual, so Ben.
Ben has never left our heart.
He is and always will be a part of us. We miss him.

Dear Liz, Colin & Katy

I got to know Ben in a backwards fashion….
the boy who declared his presence to the ocean, his “staff” in hand and his hand on hip, radiating life and connecting with nature…..and informed the ocean that he would be back.

We met after he had died…..after you had had to let him pass into the nameless mystery that we call death.
Liz, you galvanised every ounce of strength to protect your family, you were the oak, refusing to fall in case you all fell into the abyss that swirls around you in savage loss.
Colin, you took your heart and soul and went into the deep to find your boy and touch the places where you could still protect and play and imagine.
Katy, you found the courage to name the need for Ben to go and light the way for your brother with your voice, you watched with eagle eye as your parents were ravaged with pain, you worked like a Trojan to find your own words and meanings and purpose within this immeasurable change of all you had expected life would be…

I feel as though I have been in the Tardis with you, travelling through any nook or cranny of time and space that sang or drew you to it in order to find connection, wisdom, peace, understanding, magic, life.

I know that love has no definable dimensions….. nor does the body confine what we might loosely call a soul. We exist on so many levels all at once. Forwards and backwards have no meaning. Absence and presence can exist all at once.

I saw magic in the sea as this big soul was released. I do not need to have met Ben in his skin to know that his was a “Big Life” lived with big people who loved and love him beyond measure.

I know that this ten years has demanded nothing short of everything you are to live on from the day that Ben departed his physical life. I am honoured that you have shared some of this with me and have the deepest respect for the love you give to each other that holds you steady, the commitment you have to living life fully and generously.

Thank you for sharing your boy with me. The boy with the stick and the ocean has been a calling to life for so many people as well as me.

Love xxx

I used to babysit Ben and Katy in Middle Park.
One day I was holding him with his bum on the bench while I got him a drink and a mouse ran right beside him! I was terrified but brave Ben was completely unfazed. We love Ben and think of him often.

The innocence and joy of children. I love this pic.

I remember when I found out I was technically related to Ben through mutual family marriage by running into Colin and Liz at a family birthday party and being shocked. Funnily enough It was after that run in that I became much closer friends with Ben.

The fondest funny memory I have is one time when we were playing on the monkey bars in grade 4 together and I would pretend to tickle Ben by doing the tickling motion with my hands close to his arm pits, but not actually touching him, and out of anticipation he would laugh and jump off the monkey bars just before he got to the end and tell me to stop whilst laughing really hard. This happened around 4 or 5 times before he jumped off and started to chase me, but not before I started running and ran straight into one of the poles holding up the monkey bars which caused him to drop to the ground and laugh to tears.

I also recall when I was at his house and I’d bring my sonic screwdriver over and we’d both pretend to be the doctor and when his parents weren’t home would also watch episodes of Doctor Who. So much so that because we were both so into it, sometimes we would theorise as to what could have happened, had things in episodes played out differently.

Ben was such a creative person and someone who truly influenced my life and I still think about every single day, whether it be through cherishing memories or as a form of motivation. Miss you everyday, mate, hope all is going well up there.

Connor ❤️

Ben, Katy and Alexis (May 2002)

Loved Liz’s Ben stories – lego, dinosaurs, super heroes, his toy car she crushed….. 🤭! Ben was a constant in our DPCD life as was his school pic with that gorgeous smile 😊. Love you guys ❤️

I have a distinct memory of leaving the cinema once and Ben turning around to give us a cheeky grin. I don’t remember why but I’ll never forget that cheeky grin. It’s the image I hold in my memory of him and the times we would all go to the movies together .

I remember Ben for many trips to museums, to parks, to the sea, for Lego strewn across the floor and Ben’s joy in putting it together into strange objects; Buzz Lightyear flashing and emitting electronic phrases as Ben recounted an incomprehensible story about the toy’s adventures. For birthday parties, weekends away and bathtubs full of giggling girls and one boy at Airey’s Inlet. For his elemental naming ceremony at the park when Ben was one, scrambling over the wooden adventure playground in the wind.

Ben had charm and an enthusiastic sense of fun. He wondered at the natural world and his capacity to make sense of life through creating stories was striking. His focus and self-sufficiency made him an unusual child. I always felt that he would do something that none of us could predict. And not knowing what that would have been, not being allowed to watch him step over from childhood into adolescence and adulthood, is too great a loss.

Liz, Colin and Katy, you were and are truly wonderful parents and sister to Ben. His childhood was the best. A sister to share his games and imagination; parents who laughed with him and trusted his capacity to forge a way through the world. He was given what he needed and little that he didn’t, adored by friends, family, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.

The story of Ben’s big life has touched us all. It helps us to see how fully and creatively he lived it and to understand that the gift of his life is not extinguished by the sadness of death.

Memories of your beautiful smiling boy will always warm me. With big love, Sarah

(Here’s a picture of Ben, looking like a cherub, with those huge dark lashed eyes.)

Ben drew this when he was about 4. It is a picture of Chloe (the Bratz doll) with a huge machine gun and a pet dragon or dinosaur called Tom. Kind of says it all, really.

There are no words for such a loss.
And in the cavity left behind,
bitterness may bloom.

Or instead

We can choose to cultivate love
And remember how lucky we are
To have known him at all.

When Ben was 3 and Katy 6, we headed up the east coast camping for a couple of months. One day we picnicked by a river, nowhere special. Ben told me very seriously “I am going to have a big life. A big, big life.” It became a phrase we used as a family, whenever we had to think about fear and risk and adventure and opportunities. Choosing to have a Big Life.

The Story.
With a stick in his hand Ben could unlock worlds. He would frequently spend time in the garden with a stick, any stick, parrying, dodging, thrusting, spinning, combining sword and staff movements, all accompanied by grunts, whoops, yells and certainly a fair amount of explosions. He seemed so unbound in those moments, like all doors were open to him.
Shortly after he died I had gone to bed weighed down by unrelenting grief and then…
The air in the room became heavier, almost steamy. There was a sense of thick greenery and increased humidity and the air smelling fresher and somehow different. Ahead through the mottled light there was a huge mass, a large creature that had not existed for millions of years, except in the imagination of children. I touched it and it was warm and moving as long breaths were drawn in and out. I could feel small bumps and the skin was surprisingly supple. Who had guided me here?
And then…
I was on the plain outside of Helm’s Deep, in the midst of an Orc army. I was in ill-fitting, rough-hewn armour, which jabbed my skin and smelled of sour rust. I had a large spear and I could feel its splintered crudeness. It was raining and I could feel a drip, drip, drip down my back, which dampened my underclothes and was freezing, despite the heat and the smell of the surrounding army. Who was laughing beside me?
And then…
I was staring out of the door of a blue box, spinning and tumbling around a sun that was going nova. Which Doctor was I with? All of them, but who was showing me?
And then…
I was high above the Earth and warm rain was pelting me, while lightning flashed. Time stopped mid flash and the entire world below was illuminated in whitest light, every detail visible; mountains, valleys, dunes, forests, rivers, seas. Who was roaring back to the sky as they rode the lightning?
And then…
I was standing at the edge of the 3600 sectors of the known universe. All that was known was behind me and all that was unknown was ahead of me. Beaches undreamed of to be walked on. The dark was cold and deep, but I was bathed in the green glow of willpower and heard the intake of breath that marked the overcoming of fear. Who was leading me?
All the time it was my Little Prince, who laughs amongst the stars. Unrestrained by our world. All time, all space, all imagination, all dreams and further.
And then…
I was back, but amongst the despair was the hope.
I was left, not alone, but with the promise of every great story: to be continued…

When you came to my black house in Rye and helped me build the labyrinth.