I tried to give it to Peggy, but she was adamant that she was done with trinkets. My son Stephen and I had been delivering odds and ends to various charities, and the medal must have fallen out of one of the bags.
I continued out the door to my car. Ben Simpson was re-arranging his music and stands in his car. He didn't know, but I'd left him a music 'cheat book' for the Big Band era songs for the nursing homes with one of the priests, for him to receive as a surprise. I was curious if he'd gotten it yet, & surreptitiously looked for it in the very cluttered vehicle. This was pretty normal for me, as I flit about many places and have many interests. I joke that I'm "one of St. Anthony's kids", i.e. that I'm always finding things or remembering treasures discarded.
Ben wandered in much the same way, so we were related in many ways. For example, I always sought advice from men I respected when I was unsure of decisions involving my fatherless sons, and Ben often was kind enough to help me think things through. I always hit the pancake breakfasts for clubs and charities, including the one at the airport for the Civil Air Patrol. When I mentioned going there one year, of course it was one of Ben's passions. (On his advice, I even took the boys and their friend to see if anyone might be interested in joining their youth corps.) When I was a teenager, I'd been a member of a guitar mass group, so sometimes we talked about music or discussed which hymns might appeal to which congregations. I was always honored that he asked my opinion, since he was a professional and I just a tinkerer whose memory bridged the 'old' and the 'new' Church music years.
Ben and I were also family in a couple of ways. For several years, my son had a best friend who shared his entire name... Stephen Joseph Bartholomew was the son of my body and Stephen Joseph Nathaniel, now a Marine, was the son of my heart. I used to call them "Stephen Joseph squared." Well, the Marine's aunt and the Simpsons were best friends; in fact, one couple were godparents to the son of the other. So, sometimes we talked about them.
I have six younger brothers and sisters, and through the marriages we have a very wide range of nationalities and religions. I have two Jewish nieces in a progressive community in New Jersey, Irish, Mexican, Greek, two families of Polish, English Presbyterian...So when Ben's son was "breaking his mother's heart" by marrying outside of the Roman Catholic Church, I could share how the Lord worked his will in my own family life. There's nothing to soothe a troubled soul like a factual witness!
Earlier this Wednesday morning, I'd been teasing him about playing 'follow the leader', since we'd visited just yesterday after mass at St. Agnes and here we were together again at St. John's. Now, here we were as fellow travelers again moving from the church to the parish hall. In a way I was glad to speak with him again, since Bob & Peggy were as concerned as I about how sad he was this Advent season. That is a time when everyone needs to be particularly solicitous of the widowed. Advent is harder than Christmas for so many. Ben was always so faith-filled that the change in him this year was apparent. The joy was missing, and replaced with something else that he was not yet comfortable sharing. Just before mass, Peggy had noticed that something was not quite right, but she didn't know what it was either.
"Ben, I have this little angel for the car," I said. "You see so many more people than I do. Do you think you could find someone who needs it?"
Ben took the angel from me and looked at it thoughtfully.
"Benjamin," he said. "You remember who Benjamin is, don't you?"
I don't know why Ben wanted to talk about his name. By now, he should have learned not to play Bible trivia with me since I'm a history and Old Testament buff. I remember being impatient, since I was in a rush to finish many things before taking my sons to Chicago for Christmas, and all I wanted to do was to find a home for something beautiful.
"Of course I remember, Ben," I said. "He was the youngest and dearest child of Jacob, called Israel. His beloved wife, Rachel, died giving birth to him and Jacob was never happy ever after unless that boy was by his side. His full-blooded brother, Joseph, nearly killed Israel when he insisted his father allow Benjamin to be brought to him in Egypt during the famine."
Peggy now was making her way to the parish hall. I caught her satisfied smile as she watched us talking by Ben's car under the tree. She was probably relieved she escaped being saddled with another piece of paper or medal or something I'd picked up from the floor. I can be quite annoying, and no doubt she was very relieved that I was bothering someone else today!
"Benjamin", my friend Ben said as he loaded his car, "was much loved. Did I tell you that I'm going flying today?"
We talked some more, about nothing and everything as was our way together. He spoke several times about how very much he was looking forward to finishing the many things he must do--always quite a list!--before he finally would be free to fly.
Ben loved to fly. There, in his eyes each time he mentioned his plan to fly this evening, was the joy that I had missed in his manner. That was all that he really wanted to talk about. I teased him about having way too much to do and that he should have a kid chauffeur him around so that he could finish his notes and make his plans instead of having to keep his eyes on the road. Ben agreed that he was probably doing too much again, but it was obvious that being of service, being busy, and having just a few minutes in the Lord's beautiful sky was all that he wanted in life right now.
No longer worried about him for today, I left the pretty little trinket with him. Knowing Ben, it was in his pocket when whatever overtook him that night robbed us of his melodious voice.
Ben, our dear friend, please know how very much we all miss you.
This Benjamin was one man much loved, and I have no doubt that he knows now, as he rests in the arms of the Savior he so loved, just how very much.
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